African Revolutionary: The Life and Times of Nigeria's Aminu Kano 9781685859503

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African Revolutionary

African Revolutionary The Life and Times of Nigeria's Aminu Kano Revised Edition

Alan Feinstein

Lynne Rienner Publishers Boulder • London

Photographs courtesy Fred Feinstein

Published in the United States of America in 1987 by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. 948 North Street, Boulder. Colorado 80302 ' 1 9 8 7 by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Feinstein, Alan. African revolutionary. Bibliography: p. Includes index. 1. Kano, A m i n u , 1 9 2 0 Nigeria—Biography. government.

2. Politicians—

3. Nigeria—Politics and

I. Title.

DT515.77.K36F44

1987

966.9UV0924

[B]

ISBN 1-55587-050-3 (lib. b d g . )

Printed and bound in the United States of America The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials Z 3 9 . 4 8 - 1 9 8 4 .

@

87-9535

Contents

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

List of Illustrations Acknowledgments Foreword John N. Paden Preface Glossary Why and How Then T h e Beginning The Student The M a n — T h e Teacher T h e O u t e r Circle Putting It Together T h e Rebel Crusader-Politician Statesman-Parliamentarian Nadir Crossroad G o w o n and Civil War T h e Military Winds D o w n T h e C i v i l i a n s ' S e c o n d Try Early Assessments A m i n u i s m , W h e r e To? Notes Index About the Author and the Book

vi vii ix xi xiv 1 14 31 46 71 98 105 117 131 186 212 220 237 267 310 334 351 367 378 387

v

List of Illustrations Photographs Aminu Kano Remnant of Past Glory Homeward Bound

xviii 39 47

Aminu Kano Aminu Kano Kano Marketplace A View From Kano M o s q u e S e w e r — a n d Children at Play Aminu Kano Aminu K a n o "Nigeria cannot be the same again because Aminu K a n o lived h e r e . "

73 81 133 135 136 311 333 366

Maps T h e Regions of Nigeria The Twelve States of Nigeria

21 253

vi

Acknowledgments So much of the writing of this book was dependent upon the cooperation of others that at best it is a difficult task to single out the individuals involved. I must say, first, that in the process of hunting d o w n pertinent information, I gained the u n e x p e c t e d bonus of a n u m b e r of warm and w o n d e r f u l friends w h o m I hope will remain so far into the future. A m o n g the scholars in this category are John Paden of Northwestern University, C . S. W h i t a k e r , currently of Rutgers University, and A h m a d u J a l i n g o o f Bayero University, Kano. All three went far out of their way to give unstinting access to their sources, time, and, not least, their friendship and guidance. T h e c o m m e n t s of O m a r Farouk of K a n o , now completing work on his doctoral thesis at Rutgers University, were most w e l c o m e . To the many, many people in Nigeria, E n g l a n d , and the United States w h o willingly submitted to the extensive interviews I put them through, and especially to Bello A h m e d Yakasai, originally my interpreter in northern Nigeria, thank you. Here, too, I feel that I now n u m b e r many of t h e m a m o n g my good friends. There was one person w h o s e advice and personal concern first guided me through the writing process: David Winsor, the senior editor of C a m b r i d g e University Press at the time. And most certainly, my editor Emanuel G e l t m a n was a key to the process. Fred Feinstein, my son, was responsible for the photographs. But on a more personal level, if I had to single out one person w h o made the w h o l e project possible, it would be my w i f e , Mary Kotick Feinstein. Not only did she fend off all distractions f r o m a very tight schedule, but in a traveling household such as ours (including my two children and severest critics, Fred and N a n c y ) , it meant a w h o l e new life style for Mary, and she participated wholeheartedly for the two-year period it took to complete the first edition, plus another year f o r the additional copy and changes needed for this, the final edition. vn

Foreword A m i n u K a n o will be r e m e m b e r e d for many contributions and qualities. H e was truly extraordinary in both his political and personal life (192083). He served as a bridge (or gateway) within Nigeria and beyond: between y o u n g and old, rich and poor, men and w o m e n , nation and region, western and n o n - w e s t e r n , African and n o n - A f r i c a n , Muslim and "People of the B o o k " ; indeed, a m o n g all peoples. He was fearless in "speaking truth to p o w e r " especially on matters of justice. He gave hope for a better life to countless y o u n g people and was a great proponent of education. He played an important role in criticizing the injustices of colonial rule, in "keeping Nigeria O n e " during the civil war period, and in the subsequent social reconstruction of Nigerian society. Although he died before the 1983 elections, he was c o m i n g to feel and articulate that Nigeria had lost its way as a c o n s e q u e n c e of the heady days of high oil prices and easy wealth. He led a m o d e s t life, with none of the trappings of high office. He w a s a respected M u s l i m scholar w h o played an important role in helping to redefine the role of the emirs. His basic a r g u m e n t was that "there are no kings in I s l a m . " Yet, because of his integrity and learning, many of the e m i r s have always held him in high respect, even w h e n they disagreed with him. He was a K a n o m a n , a man of the north, a man for all Nigeria, and a world-class leader, w h o was as m u c h at h o m e in the corridors of the United Nations as in the back streets of S u d a w a ward, where I first met h i m in 1964. He was a man of p e a c e , w h o valued h u m a n life as sacred, but he did not hesitate to challenge authority w h e n he felt such authority w a s wrong. I am constantly reminded that the lives of great men may be viewed f r o m many perspectives, and that even the same events may have multiple interpretations, much as in a J a p a n e s e film. Each of these perspectives may be like a mirror, w h i c h , held in a certain light, may bring certain features into a particular profile. W h e n I was in Kano in the sixties and seventies, there was hardly a y o u n g western-educated m a n , of whatever ix

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political persuasion, w h o did not aspire to write " T h e Life of M a l l a m . " Ironically, in the eighties, some of these same young men felt that the mallam was not moving fast enough to keep up with the times. Yet, in his final years, he continued doing what he had always d o n e , which was to c h a m p i o n the cause of the people. His influence was felt in the cities, towns, and countryside throughout Nigeria. He never lost touch with the grassroots. T h e perspective of Dr. Alan Feinstein in this biography of M a l l a m Aminu is particularly important, not least because it was so clearly authorized by A m i n u h i m s e l f . I can still r e m e m b e r the glow with which Mallam autographed my copy of the first edition. He clearly felt that he had been fairly and accurately portrayed by his friend. T h e author had access to Mallam and his close associates, and even after Mallam's death in 1983, many a m o n g his family and friends felt that the revised edition should g o ahead. T h e close friendship between Mallam and Alan is a tribute to h u m a n qualities of each man. This is not to suggest that this book will be the last work on the subject of Mallam A m i n u ' s life and times. Nor is it the only authentic perspective. But it is an extremely important contribution, based on longterm observations, detailed interviews, full access to the written sources (including the diaries), and a basic sympathy for the subject. The book contains a wealth of detail and perspective on northern and Nigerian political life. T h e lives of individuals, whether f a m o u s or obscure, may help each of us to better understand our c o m m o n humanity. I trust that this book will m a k e such a contribution. T h e life of A m i n u K a n o , spanning m u c h of the twentieth century, gives insight into many of the d i l e m m a s and paradoxes of m o d e r n A f r i c a — o f the quest f o r c h a n g e , even radical c h a n g e , yet the need for stability; of the fragility of relations a m o n g regions and generations within a nation; and of the urgent need for fair play and justice in all aspects of national and international life. A m i n u was "color blind" when it c a m e to h u m a n relations, and perhaps can serve as an e x a m p l e to the world at large in this respect. He was a deeply religious m a n , of high integrity and discipline; e d u c a t e d , yet with c o m m o n sense and with a vision of a future that included g o v e r n m e n t by the people regardless of background. May G o d give him peace. John N. Paden

Preface When this book was first considered back in 1969, it seemed a herculean task. But I felt strongly that Mallam Aminu's contribution to his country and those around him had to be recorded, and that I had to complete it before I could gel back to my usual pursuits. No thoughts of mortality, either Aminu's or my own, entered my head to confuse me at the time. But in April 1983, ten years after African Revolutionary was first published, Aminu's death suddenly changed that. The abrupt termination of his earthly stay somehow seemed grossly unfair compared with the apparently endless chain of the much less deserving, who continued to litter the political stage. Then in January 1985, the onset of a cardiac condition left me preoccupied with the state of my own health. My thoughts were thus complicated by the overwhelming realization that this lopsided unbalanced world goes on and on, whether or not the ones who make and influence history, or the recorders of their significance, leave the scene. It was only in the recognition of the obvious, that it is the sum total of the grains of sand that makes a beach, that I found some consolation. I did realize back in the early 1970's that a biography of a man in mid-career was a little unusual. Autobiographies or biographies of living beings are generally written in the dusk of their life, or at any rate, after the main body of their life work is already behind them. Taking this into consideration, I ended the first edition of African Revolutionary with an admonition that, whatever the nature of Aminu's continuing participation, "The disrupters . . . will continue to have Aminu Kano to reckon with." I did not reckon with Aminu's sudden death while deep in the throes of a presidential campaign, nor with the gradual and insidious development of debilitating illness and its imposed limitations. Aminu's Movement was left leaderless and rudderless, in chaotic disarray, but time did not wait for its reorganization. Three months after XI

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his demise the elections were held as scheduled, and five months after that the next military c o u p took place, almost as if on schedule. A m i n u never chose to write about himself, although it is reported that he was considering it at the time of his death. His writings were educational or political, not c o m m i t t i n g him to a fixed ideology or course of action. T h o u g h he considered himself a socialist, his definition of socialism was such that he never tied himself down to rigid d o g m a , but chose instead to keep his options open and to retain the freedom to make pragmatic choices. This was essential A m i n u . T h o u g h he devoted himself directly and unequivocally to the interests of the talakawa (the masses), the f o r m his actions took did vary over the years. W h e n I undertook to write the biography. Aminu was pleased and spoke freely at great length, divulging his random but innermost thoughts in a relaxed, casual f o r m . His diaries, letters, and interviews expressed his passing thoughts as they occurred to h i m , nationalistically oriented at one m o m e n t , concentrating on the problems of the north or Kano State or Emirate at another. Never were his views ethnically oriented, nor were they concerned with the betterment of his own status. His personal life was unimportant to h i m , almost always remaining on the back burner. Through all his shifts in e m p h a s i s , he remained unflagging in his devotion to his a v o w e d principles. W h a t remained was for s o m e o n e to try to organize his thoughts and responses to the events in his life and put them in sequential order, so that they would emerge in a recognizable, truthful, and m e a n i n g f u l fashion. In more ways than one Aminu let it be known that he was happy with the book in its first edition. But the one implied tribute that gave me most pleasure was w h e n , following the initial publication of African Revolutionary, his original ideas reappeared in his lectures and interviews in a more organized f o r m , recognizable as having been previously presented on the printed p a g e . For my h u m b l e role as catalyst, I was duly pleased. What was left then w a s to complete the task; to update the biography in this, the second, revised, and final edition, to include: 1. T h e events of his final d e c a d e f r o m the time of the original publication to his d e m i s e ( 1 9 7 3 - 1 9 8 3 ) , 2. A reexamination of M a l l a m A m i n u ' s relationships and behavior during these latter years to c o n f i r m or deny the validity of the assessments arrived at in the first version, and lastly, 3. An analysis of the extent of the influence he had upon those he touched and inspired during his lifetime, along with his e f f e c t on

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Nigeria, the nation with which he was always so inseparably entwined. Just as a person's true greatness frequently doesn't fully surface until he passes f r o m the scene, so can the printed word serve as bond between his ante-mortem work and its p o s t - m o r t e m significance. Serendipitously, it might also contribute in s o m e degree to the overall durability of his influence. In the concluding paragraphs of the original edition, I suggested that A m i n u i s m would remain a force well into Nigeria's future. W h e t h e r it has and will, the reader can j u d g e .

Glossary Action Group ( A G ) : Nigerian political party, organized in 1950 by Obafemi Awolowo and other Yoruba tribesmen. It tried to extend its influence beyond the Western Region, where it became the dominant party, but never went beyond the role of opposition in the federal parliament. Alhaji (Alhajia or Hajia; female): A title of respect used for a Moslem who has made the pilgrimage to Mecca, considered a sacred obligation. Alkali: A judge in a Moslem court of law. Attajirai: Hausa term for wealthy, large-scale traders. Bokwai: The group of seven "true" or original states of Hausaland |Biram, Kano, Rano, Katsina, Zaria (Zazzau), Gobir, Daura]. The banza bokwai are the seven "bastard" Hausa states which, according to legend, arose from the original seven. Ciroma: A traditional title for an appointee of and adviser to the emir; generally considered to be his heir apparent. Emir: Chief or king of a circumscribed area of northern Nigeria known as an emirate, the most populous of which is Kano, with about five million people. Fulani: West African tribe, early converts to Islam, who settled in the Western Sudan, including northern Nigeria. They were educated in religious and secular matters and served as advisers in Hausaland until the jihad of Usman D a n Fodio in the early nineteenth century, when they seized power from the indigenous rulers. Genawa: Small subdivision of Fulani descent, centered around Kano City, functioning as mallams, principally in the legal field. It includes Aminu Kano. Hausa: Language used by many millions in West Africa, as well as a cultural designation for residents of Northern Nigeria, applying to Habe (non-Fulani) and Fulani alike. xiv

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Hausaland: Used in text to refer to that area that includes the seven original Hausa banza states together with the banza bakwai or the seven bastard Hausa states. It comprises most of northern Nigeria. Imam: Islamic minister and leader of prayer. Islamiyya: Literally, followers of Islam, but also used to refer to a particular type of school founded by Aminu Kano and followers that combined religious with secular teaching. Jihad: Holy War of Moslems to crush the unbelievers. The conditions for such crusades were laid down by the Prophet Mohammed. Jinn: Moslem term for spirits, good and bad, who are subject to supernatural control. Khadiriyya: Followers of Sheik Khadir, one of the interpreters of the Islamic religion, and founder of the cult bearing his name; found largely in northern Nigeria. Kunya: Hausa term for a personal trait in a woman implying modesty, shame, tact, and an awareness of proper traditional behavior. Madaki: Traditional title for one of the emir's councilors, serving under, appointed by, and usually related to the emir. Mai: Term used for the king in Northeastern Nigeria ( B o r n u ) . Mallam (Mallama; female): Title of respect for a Moslem religious, or secular, teacher or scholar. Mufti: Member of a council of advisers to the alkali in a Moslem court of law. National Council of Nigeria and Cameroons (NCNC): Political party organized in early '50's to espouse the nationalist cause; changed to National Convention of Nigerian Citizens (NCNC) in 1961 after The Cameroons voted to secede from Nigeria. The core of its strength was in the Eastern Region among the Ibos; leader was Nnamdi Azikiwe who became the first President of the Federation of Nigeria. Native Authority ( N . A . ) : Local government for an emirate or administrative unit; name was changed to Local Administration ( L . A . ) after Independence.

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Northern Elements Progressive Union (NEPU): Opposition party in the Northern Region from 1950-1966, led by Aminu Kano. It was allied with the N C N C during most of its lifetime. Northern Peoples' Congress (NPC): Party of the northern traditional rulers, and dominant in the Northern Region, led by Sardauna Ahmadu Bello, Premier of the Northern Region, and Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, Prime Minister of the Federation of Nigeria until January, 1966 military coup, when both were killed. Pagan: Term used to denote followers of any religion in Africa other than Christian, Moslem, or Jewish, and including many indigenous religions. Purdah: Cultural practice which confines the wives of a polygamous marriage to remain in their quarters at all times, unseen by any man but their husband, except in very special circumstances. Region: Subdivision of Nigeria when the British occupied it. At first they were ruled as separate entities (three regions: North, East, and West), but they were merged into a Federation. This arrangement lasted (with the addition of a Midwest Region) until 1967, when Major-General Gowon's Military Government sub-divided the country into twelve states rather than four regions. Sabon Gari: Literally, Strangers' Quarters, referring to the living quarters of a city, where non-Moslem peoples were segregated. Sallah: Moslem religious festival, entailing much pageantry, once at end of Ramadan, and a second time at end of Id-El Fitr. Sao People: Literally "Snake People"; original occupants of Hausaland, before the numerous migrations and invasions which swept over the land. Sarauta: Hereditary traditional status in Hausaland, which granted a title and office, and was passed on from one generation to the next. Sardauna: High traditional office, granted by the emir or sultan, usually accompanied by role as councillor or district head.

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Sardauna of Sokoto was the title of A h m a d u Bello, Premier of the Northern Region where he was the dominant figure. Through the NPC he was able to dominate the federal government as well. Sarki: Hausa word for chief or king; addition of letter " n " at end (Sarkin) means "Chief of"; plural, "sarakuna." Sawaba: Word for "freedom"; was used as slogan for Aminu Kano's Northern Elements Progressive Union. Shari'a: Moslem code of law, defined by the Prophet Mohammed. Shehu: Leader or teacher; when used alone (The Shehu) it refers to Usman Dan Fodio. Sudan: That part of Africa stretching from the Congo on the south to the Sahara on the north. Boundaries of the Western Sudan have never been clearly defined, but now "The Sudan" is a country in eastern Africa. Tafsir: Traditional practice of oral translation of the Koran from Arabic into the vernacular, with an accompanying explanation and interpretation. Talakawa: Common people, the masses in Hausaland as counterposed to the sarakuna, or ruling class. In between are the mallams, imams, and alkalis, the learned, religious and ethical leadership. Tijjaniyya: Sect of followers of Sheik Tijjani, interpreter of the Islamic religion and founder of sect extending widely through West Africa, including a high concentration in northern Nigeria. United Middle Belt Congress (UMBC): Political party more or less restricted to Middle Belt area in the southeastern corner of Northern Region; includes area of the Tiv, one of the larger minority groups in Northern Nigeria. Waliyi: Guardian (parent or foster parent) of an unmarried child or adult in Hausaland who speaks for his or her charge in decisions of education, marriage, divorce, etc.

Arninu Kano

-1 Why and How I first met A m i n u K a n o in 1960 in N e w York City, when he w a s serving as a delegate to the United Nations f r o m the newly independent federal state of Nigeria. T h e most populous nation in A f r i c a , agriculturally fertile, energetically on its way toward industrialization and e c o n o m i c dev e l o p m e n t , Nigeria was vaunted by the Western world as its Black H o p e , its bulwark against the " i n s i d i o u s " influence of the Second World of Socialism. To w e l c o m e this infant state to the family of nations, s o m e American friends of ours had invited us to a private reception w e l c o m i n g the Nigerian delegation. There we were, my wife and I, together with our thirteen-year-old son Fred ( w h o had excitedly tagged along without invitation), at the tail end of the delegates' reception line, shaking hands with a Nigerian gentleman in native garb. He was short in stature and short in neck, almost turtle-like. Everything about him smiled. His sparkling eyes, his mouth, his entire visage exuded w a r m t h . This was Mallam A m i n u Kano. Fred, not one for formalities, cut through the polite e x c h a n g e of pleasantries and quickly struck up a conversation with h i m . We had arrived rather late and no one was pressing behind us, so we smiled approvingly and even tried to turn their dialogue into a discussion in the round. He continued to ply A m i n u with questions about his country, its climate, his family, and particularly about the life of Nigerian youngsters. Aminu answered with s o m e t h i n g more than patience, rather with active interest in an accurate response and in asking his own questions. His warmth was disarming e n o u g h f o r Fred to s u m m o n up enough courage to ask him if he would address an

assembly of students at his Elizabeth Irwin High School. Aminu 1

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readily agreed. A few days later we picked him up at his hotel, entertained him briefly, and after his speech returned him to his room. Thus began a long and fast friendship, covering many continents and circumstances. F o r several years our friendship was renewed each fall with each new U.N. session. The General Assembly and its numerous committees occupied Aminu's time daily and our household became his home away from home. When he wanted to escape the succession of formal meetings by day and the innumerable and interminable diplomatic receptions by night, he could always retreat to the informality of our home, family, and friends. He seemed to derive much pleasure from the naive questions about Africa and Nigeria which our supposedly sophisticated friends would throw at him. Rarely did his patience ebb. His curiosity and interest regarding American affairs would often stimulate vigorous heated discussions, but he would continue smiling good-humoredly and never seemed to lose his self-control. Aminu was relatively comfortable in the Western world, equally at home with the formal diplomatic set of the United Nations, the wellinformed literati, or the would-be intelligentsia and the eternally curious world of the teenager. I was continually startled—and apologetic—at the woeful lack of knowledge of well-informed Americans about Africana. If he too was distressed at this, he never showed it. He seemed more resigned to this state of affairs than disturbed. The more I learned of his background, the more enigmatic seemed this man of two worlds. I wondered what "back home" was like for him, and if it was much of a problem to return each year. In the fall of 1962 we were talking one evening with Mallam Aminu about our plans for a family trip abroad, when he broke in with, "Well, if you're doing so much traveling, why not include Africa in your globe circling?" This had the sound of a sound idea to us, and after serious discussions at several family conferences, we decided to give it a whirl. We notified Aminu that the projected Feinstein family orbit was revised to include Africa—with West Africa, and more specifically Nigeria, as the last leg of our trip. We reached West Africa after many adventures in the F a r

Why and How

3

East, the Near East, and East Africa, landing at the Lagos jet airport in August 1963. From that day on, we were treated like visiting royalty—more so, like his adopted family, that we felt we were back in New York City. Aminu served as our host, and a gracious one indeed, with the kind assistance of the then Prime Minister Abubakar Tafawa Balewa and, unwittingly, of Obafemi Awolowo, the Western Region leader. The Prime Minister, after being told by Aminu how important our New York household was to his U.N. work, agreed to put us up as guests of the government, in a temporarily unoccupied government domicile. This house, which we occupied for about ten days, we discovered, was vacant because its former occupant, Chief Awolowo, had been required to take up residence in the federal prison. Thus his somewhat involuntary contribution to our family conversion into Afrophiles—for that is precisely what happened. We did the usual tourist rounds; took a look at Lagos' modern buildings, the museum, Parliament, the harbor, etc., but the high point was a visit to Agege to hear Aminu address a group of his party followers. As our car rode into the town, we saw clenched fists raised in greeting and heard eerie shouts of greeting—"Ame-een!—Ameen!—Am-e-een!" As we slowed down, upon reaching the meeting place, crowds excitedly hemmed us in, everyone wanting to see and touch Aminu. The clenched fist, it turned out, is an old Hausa sign of greeting supposed to symbolize the spilling of the good earth, and brotherly welcome, and predates our contact with the West's Third International by well over a century. The meeting was held in a large yard behind a series of houses and backed by the railroad tracks. Aminu spoke in Hausa, and though we understood not a word, we seemed to. He spoke rapidly, pausing only for dramatic effect. He cajoled, he joked, he admonished, and he waved the closed umbrella he carried as though it were a pointing finger. The audience sat and listened quietly. They laughed at times, and occasionally muttered what sounded like agreement and assent, or " A m e n . " The women fidgeted a bit during the discussion period after the speech, and rearranged the several babies tied to their backs. I thought, "No baby-sitting problems for

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political females here!" The crowds were even denser as we made our way back to the car, but Aminu waved or raised a clenched fist and returned the people's cries of "Sawaba!" (meaning "Freedom," as we subsequently found out). My excitement and fascination with this new, up-and-coming world did not wane after our return to New York. In fact it became the focus of my avocational life. I was absorbed more and more in African politics, sociology, and the continent's emergence into the world of independent nations. And as my extracurricular activities in this sphere grew, my curricular activities shrank. After two years, by the summer of 1965,1 was ready for another turn at Africa, where again Nigeria and Aminu occupied a significant portion of my travel time. Reinforced by a little better preparation in African politics and a strong need to tell my fellow Americans about this new continent I had discovered, I wangled a series of interviews with many of Africa's national leaders, including Nigeria's, largely through Aminu's contacts, but not especially restricted to his political friends. At that time it struck me as odd that his political foes should be so cordial and have such a high regard for Aminu, but this simply shows that I didn't know him that well at the time. It was not until much later that I learned of his ability to continue amicable working relationships with his arch enemies. Later that year, in New York City, during long and intimate discussions with him, I delved more deeply into his attitudes, hopes, and desires. I found myself personalizing my avid interest in Africa, interpreting events as he would see them. My thoughts were troubled by his distress; his moments of despair depressed me; his frustrated desires and his concern for his countrymen confused me. On the other hand, his continued optimism and seeming selflesness through it all, encouraged me. My cynicism about politicians and their motivations began to weaken. Could there actually be an honest and dedicated politician in this world? In December 1965, Aminu left New York City, after depositing some of his luggage in our home, expecting to return in three weeks for an economic conference. He didn't return for three years. In January 1966, the first military coup took place in Nigeria. From

Why and How

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that time on, news sources, whatever on-the-scene commentaries I could lay my hands on, occasional Nigerians passing through New York, subscriptions to West Africa Magazine and the Nigerian Daily Times, and cautiously worded letters from Aminu were the sinuous threads through which I kept abreast of events. Without attempting to predict what role he would play in the future of his country, without even knowing whether he would be able to survive Nigeria's violent upheavals, I found myself examining his life retrospectively, gradually coming to the realization that he had already had a deep, long-lasting and revolutionary effect on his people. I had begun to regard him as a sort of alter ego, as my personal representative on the power front, asking myself how I would act, what decision I would make if I were he. I thought of his continuing need to make decisions which would affect millions of people, and I wrote an article, "The Dilemma of Power." as though I were faced with these problems myself. It struck me at that point that a biography of Aminu Kano could be a worthwhile project. If only I could manage to convey the belief that so many millions of Africans had in him, and the reasons for their faith, such a work could have profound meaning for a broad audience, whether in my native U.S.A., Great Britain, Africa, Nigeria, or elsewhere in this political and shrinking world, so in need of something, someone to believe in. The more I mulled it over, the more the idea appealed to me. By happy coincidence it was just at this point in my thinking (at the end of 1968) that Aminu returned to our scene; three weeks in New York City, again at his post in the U.N. Through all the crises, coups, and countercoups his stature seemed greater than ever. Nigeria was still ruled by a military government, and was engaged in a tragic civil war, but the civilians at the top levels were influential and Aminu was now Federal Commissioner of Communications. He remained respected by most segments of Nigeria's population. From his perigee in 1965 as leader of NEPU (Northern Elements Progressive Union), an opposition party in the North that was practically on the ropes, he had emerged as a unifying force for national unity, with extensive support from most sections of the country and most segments of the social spectrum. After happy exchanges of gifts and greetings, I tentatively

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b r o a c h e d the p r o j e c t on my m i n d — w r i t i n g the story of A m i n u K a n o . I held my breath during his initial modest reactions to my proposals, a n d was elated when he finally agreed to cooperate. W e spent the following couple of weeks in N e w Y o r k planning the p r o j e c t — t i m e schedules, a n d certainly yet another sojourn for m e in Nigeria, this time a m o r e extended one. A f t e r A m i n u ' s departure, I devoted some months to library research a n d interviews with A m e r i c a n academicians w h o h a d done related work in A f r i c a , in order that my projected stay in Nigeria could be most productive. M y personal impressions of A m i n u were buttressed by many w h o h a d k n o w n and written of him. I seemed to have chosen well, but I h a d vowed to examine his life carefully a n d as objectively as one could, even the gray areas. T h e deeper I probed, the m o r e convinced I became that exposing him to the light of international day would show that he was a m a n of significant impact, whose life could have some universal meaning. T h u s in mid-June, I f o u n d myself a b o a r d P a n - A m e r i c a n ' s direct flight to Lagos, preceding my otherwise ever-present wife by several weeks. T h e next three m o n t h s were spent digging into N o r t h e r n Nigeria's past, ranging f r o m p r e - D a n F o d i o through the colonial e r a a n d the pre-independence political times, right on u p to the military regime with its accompanying civil strife. F o r several m o n t h s I traveled throughout N o r t h e r n a n d Western Nigeria, including Lagos (the Eastern Region was inaccessible because of the civil war), but c o n c e n t r a t e d on A m i n u K a n o ' s land of origin, the North, where his life h a d t a k e n seed and been shaped. My ferreting pointed up some salient facts about Nigerians, particularly Northern Nigerians. Although there had been a long history of oral recordkeeping, the filing of printed materials was diffuse, limited, and, of course, in Hausa and Arabic. Gaskiya, the first Hausa-vernacular newspaper, as well as the Nigerian Citizen, the first English-language newspaper in the Northern Region, date back only to the 1940's. Files of these newspapers were sparse and incomplete, particularly for the early years, and I had yet to discover any indexing for those files that did exist. Written histories of local areas were few and hard to find; personal histories and genealogies (with certain royal exceptions) were extremely difficult to trace. Emirs' archives had been closed in the past in order to pro-

Why and How

7

tect their owners' revered status, and were being opened only then. In light of my own culture, so different from the Hausa, I had to lean heavily on oral testimony—a form of recording that has been notoriously devious, often contradictory, and constantly repetitious. Superstition and prejudice were frequently present, and a cultural heritage vastly different from mine always present, but the real confusion arose when I, an American, attempted to familiarize myself not only with the facts of Aminu's life but also the habits and customs of these residents of Northern Nigeria: his neighbors, relatives, friends, enemies, and associates. Having a library knowledge of Hausa customs helped make me more aware of the difficulties, but hardly lessened them. Most confusing were the so-called "avoidance patterns" and "joking" relationships and their subsequent explanations. For the benefit of those who know not of what I speak, Hausa people have, over the generations, developed familial relationships which fall into somewhat rigid patterns. A firstborn child, male or female, is generally, other children often, "avoided"—i.e., ignored—by the blood parents. They never refer to him by name, nor does he refer to these parents by name. The parent tries to ignore his existence, and frequently he is literally "given away." In Hausa-Fulani culture, this practice represented great sacrifice, that of the most loved one, a kind of stoicism that proved the family's moral strength or religious conviction. This is the "avoidance pattern." "Joking" relationships apply to the extended family, which goes beyond direct blood descent and includes, as brothers and sisters, the children of the father's co-wives and, as fathers, the uncles on the father's side. The joking relationship, in which teasing is an integral part, is an informal one with all restrictions of the avoidance patterns removed, and exists between grandparents and grandchildren, cousins, and even some in-laws. Needless to say, though these family relationships are traditionally accepted among Hausas, to an American they become perplexing. I spent one whole afternoon interviewing a sister of Aminu's, during which time she told me the most intimate details of her life, ohly to discover to my chagrin that she really was no more than a distant relative, according to our equally rigid categories. It took me many long hours to sift out family relationships as we know them,

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only to be given two or three different versions subsequently, from other sources. Information I thought would be available in simple statements of fact took hours to unravel. I would gather extensive data about a particular individual and then find that the interviewee was talking about another person with the same name. In some instances, questions addressed to one individual were referred to another, because of this need to "avoid"; to speak not or think not publicly of the person involved. My interpreter—gentle, gracious, and ever ready to help in anything asked of him—unfortunately in this respect, was of Hausa soil. He truly attempted to break out of the pattern and explain it, but more often than otherwise he became deeply interwoven in the web I was trying to penetrate and contributed his share to my confusion. A would-be researcher finds that as modernization makes inroads the traditional patterns are changing. Good? Ultimately, I guess, but at this time even more bewildering. Is the person to whom you are talking avoiding or not? Further complications arose when dealing with "given away" children. Custom has it that immediately after weaning, at about two years of age, the first born (and frequently other children as well) is given to substitute parents to bring up, usually drawn from those respected in the community, who may be childless or are in a better position to raise the child—perhaps a grandmother or a brother or sister of one of the parents. Also, the act of giving away the child frequently represents the strengthening of a traditional alliance or the payment of a social obligation. Then who is called mother or father? Who is regarded as parent? Where does the child visit when he is grown and returning from school or another town? Where is the first loyalty? From what I can make of it, there is much variation, depending on the parents, the clan, or the region. Just as foster parents in Western society will sometimes replace blood parents, so in Hausa society, except that in the latter case, it is commonplace, a practice so widespread that it represents a deep-seated cultural variation. This broad concept, radically different from Western family organization, represents another form of the extended family present in many societies, i.e., family love and loyalty reach beyond the line

Why and How

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of direct descent to several "mothers," "fathers," "brothers," and "sisters." Aside from this concept, so complex to me at first, there were Other familial habits to confuse me further. A proper wife has kunya, which implies a social modesty, shame, or tact. She is simply expected to answer only when spoken to, to observe the customs of the area, to respect co-wives, and to care for the children and the household. Thus when approached by a stranger, particularly a male and a foreigner, she is not likely to be too communicative, and when she does communicate she will not necessarily be the most reliable informant. One other custom should be mentioned if we are to understand the Hausa community attitudes. According to Moslem custom, a man may marry as many as four wives if he can afford to support them and grant them equal treatment. This custom, however, is tempered by free-and-easy divorce and marriage. Either the husband or the wife can state his or her desire for separation, explain it to the alkali, or judge, and after one or two attempts at reconciliation, if desired, the marriage can be abrogated. Most Hausas, male or female, are divorced three or four or more times in a lifetime. To complete the picture, the divorced (or widowed) wife is expected to remarry shortly after the lapse of a three-month (approximately) period of grace and celibacy (Idda). If she does not, her friends and neighbors will ordinarily look at her askance. The same Hausa word, karuwai, is used for divorcees or widows who leave their household and go beyond the three-month grace period, as for prostitutes, profligates, or women who remain single until late in life, indicating that Hausa culture links all single women with a common thread. She is thought of as deviant, strange and antisocial—eccentric, unless she returns to the household of her waliyi (parent or guardian) to wait arrangements for her next marriage. In the latter case, she is a bazaure and has achieved respectability. Many of these unsupervised women become Bori dancers, a phenomenon about which much can be written. Briefly, Bori dancers are thought to be possessed of spirits, either good or bad or both, that are invoked through an uninhibited and frenzied form of dance and trance, to rid any afflicted devotee of physiological or psychological ailments.

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I t m u s t b e m a d e clear at this p o i n t t h a t all t h e s e social customs, t a b o o s , a n d restrictions are c u r r e n t l y in a state of flux. M a n y are c h a n g e d , o t h e r s m o d i f i e d , a n d still o t h e r s t h r u s t aside completely. N o t only are s t a n d a r d s of individual b e h a v i o r b r e a k i n g d o w n , but the walls of social stratification h a v e similarly b e g u n to c r u m b l e . In 1 9 2 0 , at t h e t i m e of A m i n u ' s birth, there were r o u g h l y f o u r social levels: royalty, nobility, d e s c e n d a n t s of slaves, a n d talakawa (commoners ). A l t h o u g h the British h a d abolished slavery as a general p r a c tice by the first d e c a d e of the 1900's, L o r d L u g a r d , the t h e n High C o m m i s s i o n e r of Nigeria, w a n t i n g to upset the social system as little as possible, d e c r e e d that only r u n a w a y slaves a n d children of slaves w e r e free. T h u s slaves still existed, a n d d o to this d a y , as lineage g r o u p s . B u t since n o n e are b o u n d to a m a s t e r by law, by a n d large slavery h a s b e e n e l i m i n a t e d . Nevertheless, social origins still cling, as in m o s t c o u n t r i e s , a n d limit p e o p l e ' s social status to a considerable degree. E v e n within t h e traditional slave s t r u c t u r e , t h e rigid p a t t e r n s of H a u s a - F u l a n i a u t o c r a c y were evident. T h e slaves h a d c e r t a i n rights, a n d the o w n e r s h a d c e r t a i n duties t o w a r d t h e m . T h e slaves of the e m i r w e r e e m i n e n t l y f a v o r e d a n d w e r e used in positions of authority. T h e y w e r e t h e r u l e r ' s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s a n d tax collectors, a n d in s o m e instances h a d m u c h p o w e r . A n interesting sidelight within this patt e r n o c c u r r e d w h e n t h e British a t t e m p t e d to i n t r o d u c e W e s t e r n e d u c a t i o n into N i g e r i a a n d the e m i r s resisted. I n s t e a d of s e n d i n g their o w n c h i l d r e n t o s c h o o l a n d o n to E n g l a n d , t h u s c o n t a m i n a t i n g t h e m with W e s t e r n c u l t u r e , the e m i r s w o u l d s o m e t i m e s send the c h i l d r e n of their slaves. T h i s act of subtle d e f i a n c e a c c o u n t s to a large extent f o r t h o s e w e l l - e d u c a t e d l e a d e r s of N o r t h e r n N i g e r i a w h o w e r e of h u m b l e slave origin. T h e c a r e e r s of the f o r m e r P r i m e M i n i s t e r of Nigeria, Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, and Maitama Sule, former federal cabinet m e m b e r and Permanent Representative to the United Nations, started in this fashion. T h e N o r t h e r n P e o p l e ' s C o n g r e s s (NPC), d o m i n a n t p a r t y of t h e N o r t h a n d f e d e r a l g o v e r n m e n t until t h e first m i l i t a r y c o u p in J a n u ary 1 9 6 6 , b a s e d its p o w e r o n the existing rigid social stratification. F r o m A h m a d u B e l l o (a m e m b e r of t h e royal f a m i l y of S o k o t o a n d p r e m i e r of t h e N o r t h e r n R e g i o n until his d e m i s e ) , o n d o w n , t h e

Why and How

11

party gained its dominance through the derivative power of the Native Authority, or Local Authority, administrative arm of the Northern emirs. The only region-wide all-Northern opposition party, the NEPU, attempted to represent the socially disaffected classes of young urbanized civil servants, minority tribes, and principally the talakawa, or common man—although it was led by Aminu Kano, who was a "mallam," in a category approaching nobility. So when I attempted to examine a man's life, which started during an era of rigid social patterns and ranges through current deep-seated change, I obviously ran into difficulties. As I pursued my explorations, I became aware that Aminu Kano, the subject of my study, was also an important factor in creating and hastening this change. He was not only helping to break down rigid forms of individual behavior, what was expected of each person, but also contributing much toward the breakdown of the class structure inherited over the centuries. Modern concepts of civilization and politicization were creating revolutionary changes. Political power was in the process of being modified and ultimately wrested from the feudal domination of many generations. Since the society, feudal in nature, naturally showed some variation from area to area, wherever local conditions were discussed, I tried to concentrate my attentions on the Kano emirate rather than any other, for this was the childhood locale of Aminu and, politically speaking, his local constituency. From confusion through fascination to analysis would describe my own transition best; for I found it essential to examine and interpret very carefully each event and each relationship I came across in the light of mores so totally different from my own. Snap generalizations had to be eliminated; I had to immerse myself in the Hausa culture and picture myself a part of it. I hope that I can at least partially help cross this gap for those American or European readers who are no more familiar with Hausa culture than I was when I started my opus. The pleasures of the trip throughout the North and West and in Lagos were innumerable. Always I was greeted with warmth and curiosity: the good humor of the people I interviewed en route was boundless. With only one exception, everyone I approached managed to find time to discuss Aminu and their connections with him. Each had some fond recollection of common incidents in their past. Each

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had something of interest and worth to contribute. To meet the people in A m i n u ' s life, in their own milieu, with the mixed background of old and new, left m e with indelible m e m o r i e s and strong desire to know more about t h e m .

T h e n there were problems that did not specifically relate to custom. W h e n the life of a man such as A m i n u is subjected to close scrutiny, one realizes how closely, deeply, and inextricably it is interwoven into the history of the area f r o m which he derives. T h e r e f o r e , one must go further and further back to find what constitutes the reality of his existence. If a man is as single-purposed as A m i n u and if his manifest destiny is to help bring his country f r o m ' T h e n to W h e n , " obviously the social circumstances of the " T h e n " period must be e x a m i n e d . So where does one start? With the birth of the man or of the country ? W h e n analyzing the interrelationship between the two, I realized that there was one event in Nigeria's past which could be directly linked to the life and times of A m i n u : the advent of U s m a n Dan Fodio with its observable impact on his country's history. T h e Usman Dan Fodio story began and ended before A m i n u , or his father for that matter, c a m e on the scene, and requires a separate chapter. T h e other m a j o r event of c o n s e q u e n c e that predated and influenced A m i n u ' s life was the British occupation. Although it took place in 1900-1910, the British governmental presence continued on up to 1960. In 1920, when A m i n u was born, the grip of British d o m i n a n c e was unquestioned. It represented the reality of his childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood, and therefore can be w o v e n into the body of my text. Another general problem I faced at the time when this book was originally conceived was that of dealing with a political figure in midcareer. M y a v o w e d purpose was to avoid as much as possible saying anything that would influence the career of my protagonist, or for that matter any of his antagonists. N o w that A m i n u has passed f r o m the scene, this is less of a p r o b l e m , but I had no intention of espousing a political c a u s e nor of attacking individuals then, nor d o I now. Tactics and tact are always m a j o r considerations. W h e n one searches for m e a n i n g and truth, s o m e facts and events unearthed are f o u n d in political limbo. There are situations w h e n to be " s u r e , " an author would have to be "sterile" as well. I therefore resolved early that this work should be as apolitical as is possible when writing about a m a n w h o s e whole being was expressed

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through political c h a n n e l s — o b v i o u s l y a difficult task. I knew, too, that in spite of such an approach, toes might still be stepped upon. 1 tried to keep the pedal clashes to a m i n i m u m , so long as my p u r p o s e remained intact: to present to the world the essence of A m i n u K a n o , whose life c a m e as close as any I know to fulfilling the concept of the Karma Yogi (the Yogi of action)—part m a n , part granite, " f e e l i n g l e s s , yet m e r c i f u l , and contented; free of jealousy, fear, exultation, and sorrow; an activist unaffected by the action, w h o treat[ed] friend and foe alike, r e n o u n c e d ] all fruit, good or bad, [was] untouched by respect or disrespect [and not unduly] p u f f e d up by praise; w h o love[d] silence and solitude, . . . but rarely ha[d] it; . . . ha[d] a disciplined reason, single p u r p o s e , and rem a i n e d ] unattached in order to achieve his d h a r m a [destiny]." 1

Then

It is for the historians to separate out fact from fiction in the development of Nigeria as a nation—and a monumental task at that; but for our purpose it is not that essential. Myth and corroborated fact (whatever that is) are both integral parts of the history of a people. Together they influence a culture and determine what makes a people. When we talk of ethnic "qualities" and national characteristics, we talk in generalizations, not at all applicable to any one individual. Yet the presence of the culture is encompassing enough to affect the personality of the individual, his interaction with his fellows and his nation. Where this influence, this intimate coupling of the individual with his society, begins and where it ends is indeterminate, but for the telling of a story of one person, we must begin somewhere, and in this instance that somewhere starts beyond written history, in the never-never land between fact and fiction. So we go back to the origins of the region. Legend has it that one Bayajidda was responsible for the founding of the seven prominent Hausa Bokwai states. 1 Subsequently seven Banza Bakwai, or "bastard" states were formed, which all together have become what is known as Hausaland. Bayajidda, son of Abduilahi, King of Baghdad, quarreled with his father and left home to seek his fortune elsewhere. According to this tale, he and his band of followers set out westward on horseback (introducing horses to the Western Sudan for the first time), and arrived at the well-developed, well-organized, and well-established kingdom of Kanem-Bornu. Either Bayajidda possessed some magical powers or he had an overwhelming force of followers, for his presence was immediately deemed a threat to the mai's (king's) rule. 14

Then

15

The mai, cunning man that he was, first bought him off by giving him his daughter's hand in marriage. To further cut off this potential Samson's locks, he separated him from his followers by making each of them the ruler of a newly conquered but distant town, thus scattering them and rendering them impotent. But our hero saw through the mai's sinister motive, and fled even farther west, leaving his newly acquired wife behind in the city known as Biram. There she gave birth to their child, who eventually became founder of the state of Biram. Bayajidda continued his journey until he reached yet another city, Daura. Upon his arrival, he was informed that a snake inhabiting the town well permitted the people to draw water but once a week (undoubtedly reflecting pollution and/or drought conditions). He obligingly killed the snake, married the queen, became king, and lived happily ever after. His new queen bore a child named Bawo, who took over when his father died. Bawo in turn had six sons, each of whom became king of one of the surrounding cities and founded each as a state. These six—Daura, Kano, Zazzau, Gobir, Katsina, and Rano, together with the above-mentioned Biram— constituted the original seven Hausa states, the Bakwai. The seven Banza Bakwai states (Zamfara, Kebbi, Nupe, Gwari, Yauri, Yoruba, and Kororofa) grew from these. The consensus of opinion among historians is that this legend is a folk tale which telescopes events that took place over a long period of time into a convenient, popular version of how Hausaland achieved its common culture. Historically speaking, during the period 900-1500 A.D., Hausaland was beset by incessant wars and waves of immigrants sweeping from the East—where were Egypt and the powerful Bornu-Kanem; or from the north, where nomadic Berbers, Tuaregs, and Arabs swept down out of the Sahara; or from the great Western Sudan kingdoms of Ghana, Mali, and Songhai; or even to some extent from the Nupe and Jukun (Kororofa) kingdoms to the south. The indigenes at the time were known as Sao, or "snake people." A residual reflection of the Daura Bayajidda legend is seen in the various snake symbols on Hausa staffs, flags, and walking sticks even to this day. Ethnologically speaking, the direction taken by the immigrants of those years was probably east to west. It was out of this nebulous

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period, sometime before the start of the second millenium A.D., that Bayajidda and his predecessors came to Hausaland. The Kano Chronicle,2 a document written by an unknown author in 1883-1893 lists the genealogy of Kano's royal family, starting back at that time (1000 A.D.) with the first king, Bagoda, son of the aforementioned Bawo, and grandson of the snake-killing Bayajidda. The Kano Chronicle refers even further back to Dalla, the founder of Kano in the era preceding Bayajidda, and his sons. Dalla's origins were unknown, but it seems he was of Paul Bunyanesque proportions, able to slay an elephant with a stick and carry the carcass on his head for miles. He lived on a hill which can still be viewed today in Kano and which of course is referred to as Dalla Hill. He was the head of the blacksmiths who congregated in this area to be near the iron ore at the base of the hill. He had several wives, and seven children. The eldest son was Garageji, and his son was Barbushe, who when his turn came was chief lord and high priest, too. Each year, when the special days for the sacrificial rituals arrived and people brought black dogs, goats, and fowl to the idol atop of Dalla Hill, Barbushe would emerge from his hill house with his drummers to march with the people to the shamuz tree, sacred to their god, Tchumburburi. (This date tree would live out its 500600 year lifetime, it was said, and when it expired, so would Kano.) They danced around the tree, and the chief told them what would occur that year—the quality of the crops and degree of rainfall— and what history-making events would come to pass, good or bad. Only Barbushe could enter through the wall surrounding the tree, after the sacrifices had been made. H e then would return and report the oracle-like messages from within. And it came to pass that one day Barbushe emerged to tell of the imminent arrival of a stranger who would destroy their arborial shrine and dominate them all. It was then that Bagoda from Daura, grandson of Bayajidda, and of the stock of Ham and Noah, arrived to become the first Sarki of Kano. Until modern times, the Dalla Hill section of Kano was considered to be unlucky territory, inhabited by the spirits of the gods. As a result, the land there could be acquired fairly easily, making it possible for Aminu Kano to piece together a few small inexpensive

Then

17

parcels of land on which to build a house and a modified compound, in the year 1968. Iron foundries were known to have existed in both Kano and Daura prior to Bagoda's reign. In Kano the ore and iron foundries in the Dalla section are still being dug up and can be viewed by anyone choosing to take the trouble. The first palace of Kano's ruler was thus on Dalla Hill; the second now houses the Kano Museum; and the third one is occupied by the current Emir, Ado Bayero. For much of the period between 1000 and 1500 A.D., the small city states of Hausaland were able to retain their independence, probably because they were located far from the centers of power of the large states that surrounded them. At various times, their powerful neighbors would penetrate into the periphery of Hausaland, and would extract their tribute for as long a period as they could exert long-distance control. Each of these distant kingdoms had internal struggles of accession and succession and at various times had to fight off their own invaders. Such distractions served to protect the smaller independent Hausa city-states. Helping them survive, too, was an apparent division of labor among the city-states. Kano and Katsina were the center of an extensive trading net, a connection between North Africa, with its transSaharan trade routes, and South Africa, with its need for ivory, slaves, and other products. Gobir was the northernmost center of resistance to the invading Tuaregs; Daura retained its function as spiritual center of Hausaland; Zaria was used for slave raiding and trading from South to North Africa; and Rano was developed as an industrial center. These independent city-state functions tended to support one another in a general sense, but were tempered and altered by internecine struggles for power, in which one Bakwai state would dominate one or many other states and then in turn would be dominated themselves. It is thought that these struggles, particularly between Kano and Katsina and Katsina and Gobir, were essentially efforts to dominate the trans-Saharan trade caravan routes. Through these routes, and through invasions from Mali on the west and Bornu on the East, came the penetration of Islam into Hausaland. Apparently

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the indigenous populations were sufficiently developed to absorb the immigrants, invaders, and infiltrators along with their religion. Islam was vitiated upon arrival, whether accepted by the royalty or no. The newcomers made accommodation to the local customs and catered to the desires of the indigenes. What emerged was a composite of people, made up of both invaders and invaded. This rapid adjustment, the assimilation of the Moslem invaders by the native occupants of Hausaland, was attested to by a strange annotation in the Kano Chronicle. A man defiles the mosque built by Yaji and then is struck blind in retribution. In order not to alienate the local citizens, though, he is then made Sarki (Chief) of the Blind—a rather grim concept of justice! The religious seesaw this evoked in Kano, as well as surrounding states, seemed to represent a continued struggle for conquest and control of the trade routes across the Sahara rather than missionary zeal. It went on until the time of King Yakubu, 1452-1463, when the Fulani migration began to make its mark. Up to that point, Islamic influence had been spread principally through the Koran and books on law and tradition. The Fulani, coming from the western kingdom of Mali, brought with them books on divinity and etymology, in this way broadening the concept of learning, from the mere implementation of religious rites and traditions into the world of philosophy, ideas, and conceptual thinking. Yakubu permitted the Fulani to pass on through Hausaland to Bornu, as many did, or to remain and settle if they so chose. It is reported that Yakubu's reign was also free of wars, indicating a generally enlightened diplomacy on his part. Yakubu was succeeded by Mohammed Rumfa (1463-1499), the most famous of Kano's kings. It was in this latter part of the fifteenth century that Islam secured its roots in Hausaland. One story has it that Abdu Rahman set out from Medina, urged on by a vision of the Prophet, to proceed until he found a soil comparable with that of Medina. He and his retinue marched westward, testing the soil as they went. Like Prince Charming with Cinderella's slipper, when he reached Kano, he found the soil matched that of Medina, and stayed. Mohammed Rumfa welcomed him, built a mosque for Friday prayers, tore down the old pagan sacred tree, and built a minaret in its place. Whether it was through the influence of Abdu Rahman or the Fulani arriving from the west, books and

Then

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learned men multiplied and the Islamic faith was firmly established as a state-wide religion, with all of its manifestations. Rumfa extended Islam beyond its religious confines and tried to run his state according to Islamic principles and law, innovating extensive city walls, marketplaces, and much grandeur. His introduction of ceremonial slippers decorated with ostrich feathers and of riderless horses following him into battle, as spares, are customs that have survived in ritual until today. In the following centuries, Arabic influence spread throughout northern Nigeria through the teachings of Hausa and Arabic scholars, which, however, was restricted primarily to the aristocracy and mallam* class. The political structure of the Hausa states approximated that prescribed in the Koran, but was also modified to conform to local custom. The king had much power, though he had to deal with the aristocracy at all times, trying to play one group off against the other to maintain his position. Mohammed Rumfa and others after him tried to offset the influence of these aristocrats by granting titles to eunuchs and slaves and appointing a hierarchy of village heads as administrators and tax collectors, but the resident hereditary officials and clan heads remained powerful nevertheless. Before the superimposition of the invader dynasties at the time of the end of the first millenium A.D., the political and social structure that had been developed was apparently based on vocation. The division of labor necessitated by city living was well developed by that time, with probably over 75,000 residents within the walls of the city of Kano. Each trade was organized for its own defense and was passed down from father to son. Marriages were generally arranged within these clanlike groups—to the point where gradually, over the years, the trades and their specialized governmental functions and social status overlapped until they were indistinguishable. Each evidently chose its own leaders for life. There were the chiefs of the blacksmiths, the brewers, the doctors, the miners and smelters, the dancers, the archers, the salt workers, and so on. Eleven pagan clans of this nature were supposed to be the basis and original stock of Kano. Whether this was literally so or not, the social and political structure of today's emirates of northern Nigeria was carried down *The educated class of imams (priests), teachers, and judges: see page 20.

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through the ages, more or less, intact, until independence in 1960, with everyone remaining in their preordained professions and trades. The mallam class developed quite differently, as a group apart from the seat of power. They were the thinkers, scholars, judges, and priests; they had the final word as to what was correct and moral in the society, though without the authority to impose it. Much in the manner of the early Talmudic scholars of Judaic tradition, they spent their lives in contemplation, discussion, and teaching, devoid of any political influence, except in isolated instances when specific political rulers were influenced by their thinking. With no societal means of their own to implement their judgments, they were totally dependent upon the kings and courtiers. One of the first records of this relationship was the story of Umaru, son of Kanejeji, who ruled Kano from 1410 to 1421. In addition to being king he was a mallam in his own right and an earnestly religious person, thus creating a conflict in the traditional attitudes and power relationships. When his friend Mallam Abubakar returned from Bornu after a ten-year absence and found Umaru still Sarkin Kano, he likened him to the lover of a fickle woman who would live to regret his transgressions, but too late. Umaru, unable to resolve the conflict of sovereignty vs. ideology, resigned shortly thereafter to live the rest of his life in quiet solitude and guilty regret for his eleven years as sarki, in this way reflecting the mallams' contempt for worldly government and rule, and the respect Hausas have retained for learning and learned ones. One might think that Usman Dan Fodio's separation from political authority after his successful jihad in the early 1800's was another reflection of this same tradition. So too were the strong-willed, independent Aminu Kano, his father Yusufu, and their relatives in the Genawa Clan, all steeped in reverence for learning. The major difference was that Aminu consciously tried to join politics and education in his attempt to alleviate poverty and introduce modernity—and this without the guilty regret of Umaru. From 1500 to 1800, Kano and northern Nigeria again were afflicted with repeated incursions of warriors from east and west, as well as with constant internal struggles between the Hausa states themselves. As horses and armor and even guns were introduced, the

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The Regions of Nigeria

Reprinted by permission from Foreign Affairs. Copyright 1972 by Council on Foreign Relations, Inc.

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capacity to wage war over longer and longer distances increased, permitting conquest on a more grandiose scale. To the west, Mali was succeeded in power by Songhai, starting with the rule of Sonni Ali and Mohammed Askia I, in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. Incursions eastward were common. Hausaland became the battleground between Songhai and Kanem-Bornu to the east. These two nations fought each other and the local warriors, extracting booty when successful and fleeing when unsuccessful, but the battleground was almost always devastated and its inhabitants paying tribute and slaves to someone. There were times when Katsina and Kano rode high in the saddle and other times when they suffered destruction, slave raids, fire, and ruin. But through it all, they emerged with a cultural unity and some degree of organization and learning, drawing from the invaders within Hausaland or from foreign lands some of their physical characteristics through intermarriage, and some of their customs, language, and attitudes. At the end of the eighteenth century, two of these Hausa states, Gobir and Zamfara, grew in power and vied for dominance. The stage was set for the great changes of the nineteenth century, on which much of modern Nigeria is based. The latter half of the eighteenth century found the Hausa states locked in their perennial struggles. Gobir, perched astride the southern border of the Sahara, was under severe pressure from the nomadic desert tribes to the north. Though remaining aloof for a good part of its history, it had begun looking toward the fertile fields controlled by Zamfara to the south. The ensuing offensive penetration was an admixture of trade, treaty, royal intermarriage, and open warfare. Through constant military pressure southward, Gobir succeeded in defeating its rival Zamfara in battle but, as one might suspect, had ended up severely weakened from long years of war. It was in this milieu that the great jihad of Usman Dan Fodio was spawned. The man who was to revolutionize this sector of the Western Sudan was born in 1744 of Fulani stock, and raised in Gobir. As was the wont of the more affluent Fulanis who had migrated from the west some fourteen generations before, Usman was educated extensively in the traditional Islamic fashion. He studied grammar, law, theology, and prosody (the art of rhyme and

Then

23

verse), gaining his inspiration from his teachers and from the reformist ideas which prevailed among the learned of the day. It was all in the tradition of his forebears, the leading proselytizers of Islam in all of West Africa. Armed with the strength of the knowledge and religious fervor of his school years, Usman returned to the city of Degel, where he took up the habits and vocation of mallam: preaching, teaching, and study. He traveled from Degel up and down the land, spreading his ardent interpretations of social and religious reform, attracting larger and larger crowds as his fame grew. These itinerant mallams would set themselves up in market or public square, or merely in front of the compound of a friend. Word would get out that one of them was in town, and interested people would congregate in great or small numbers depending on his reputation. Although Nafata, then King of Gobir, thought well enough of Usman to have him tutor his son, Yunfa, he recognized that Usman's presence and teachings were a threat to his sovereignty. According to the mixture of Islam and Animism which prevailed at the time as a state religion, the king and his descendants were considered holy, divine incarnations of the supernatural. The strict interpretation of the Koran promulgated by Usman Dan Fodio would obviously raise questions about the king's derivative role on earth, undermine his executive status, and strike at the very core of the monarch's divine right to rule. Mohammedanism crossed national boundaries and gained adherents from many lands, both far and near, again threatening the heart of the monarch's position at the center of the universe. He wanted royal monocentrism, not a social or religious polycentrism. In spite of the king's apprehensions, Usman remained in favor at the court and among the nobility, for Islam and Islamic learning were still flourishing, even if in this bastard form. Not until Yunfa succeeded Nafata in 1802 as King of Gobir did the issues begin to sharpen, and the royal prerogative invoked to try to discourage and suppress Dan Fodio's influence. Yunfa started with more subtle means that gradually assumed overt forms. He forbade the wearing of the turban for men and the veil for women. He even tried to prevent proselytizing by decreeing that only those bom Moslem could practice Islam.

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The struggle between the two men, although usually couched in religious forms and terms, was really a struggle between the Ins and the Outs; the defender of the status quo vs. the radical crusader. It was essentially political, with Usman looking for converts to his cause in secular areas. He attacked the unjust illegal and oppressive taxes; he exposed the extensive open corruption and bribery and military conscription. The cattle-raising nomadic Fulanis, in addition to being religious Moslems, were particularly distressed by the cattle tax and consequently vulnerable to anti-establishment agitation. The Hausa talakawa, the peasants, who were attracted to Usman found common ground on these economic issues rather than on the religious heresies supposed to be the basis of his call to arms. Yunfa reached the point where he forced Usman to leave his court in disfavor. Usman returned to Degel, his home town, but continued his agitation against the current regime to the point where it is thought that Yunfa was preparing to have him killed. Just at that time, Abd Al-Salam, a disciple of Dan Fodio, refused to bless some traveling soldiers, who in turn arrested Abd Al-Salam's Moslem companions to sell them into slavery. Some of Usman's followers released them and open hostility broke out. Jihad, or holy war, could be waged if three conditions were met, according to Dan Fodio's understanding of the Koran: ( 1 ) when there is an enemy attack on Moslem territory; ( 2 ) when captured Moslems must be rcscued from the enemy infidel; and ( 3 ) when holy war is ordered by the Moslem ruler. Two of the conditions could be interpreted as having occurred already. All that remained was for Dan Fodio to declare himself leader of the Moslems and order the jihad—which he did. In 1804, Yunfa marched on Degel, forcing Usman to flee to Gudu, performing the hejira in the tradition of Moslem holy wars since Mohammed. It was in Gudu that Usman wrote to his former pupils and disciples scattered throughout Hausaland to proclaim that the jihad was on and the revolution set in motion. Islamic religion has always been tied closely to government. Mohammed's precepts had defined the moral basis on which the state should be run, so that any attempt to launch a jihad had to have a secular as well as a religious base. In any case, religious reform could not be achieved without a shift of power. T h e original

Then

25

Islamic model of the state had a rigid form of social and legal justice, enforced through devout rulers and the Shari'a law as set down by Mohammed and his followers. This return to the early state model, with a purification of the religion and its observances, was the theoretical basis of the jihad. The practical implementation was another matter. There were many who had personal opportunistic or tribal or class motives as well as religious. The Habe-Hausa* talakawa supported the revolt to rid themselves of the onerous tax burdens and immoral, oppressive administration. The Fulani cowherders had ethnic as well as economic ties. Many of the Fulani townspeople were wealthy and wanted to protect their threatened status. Many still had large herds of cattle in the countryside, and maintained contact and some degree of control over the "Cow-Fulani." The leadership of the jihad cleverly exploited all these grievances to gain adherents, even using the neighboring Zamfarawa as temporary allies. It was a profoundly popular movement, differing from the pattern of palace revolutions or foreign invasions which up to that point had been responsible for most governmental upheavals. Usman Dan Fodio quickly retired to the protected status of religious leader, assumed the title of Amir al-Mu'minin (Arabic), Sarkin Musulmi (Hausa), and Leader, or Commander, of the Faithful (English), and left the prosecution of the wars and administration of government to Abdullahi, his brother, and Bello, his son. From their first military victory over Yunfa in Gobir in 1804, the jihad warriors rapidly and triumphantly spread to the other Hausa states, one by one. By 1808, in a brief four years, they had conquered all the major states of Hausaland with the exception of Bornu. Through superior unity and organization, and clever utilization of the issues of the day, the Fulani had been able to establish effective hegemony over most of northern Nigeria. As the jihad progressed, it became more and more political and less and less religious. The purification of Islam and the elimination of corruption and decadence which were the orginal motives for the revolt had become *Habe is the name given to the habitants of northern Nigeria, before the Fulanis arrived. Hausa is the language employed, but has come to be used as a generic term for northern Nigerians including Fulanis and some other minority tribes, either in this simple form or hyphenated as Hausa-Fulani.

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a n a k e d struggle f o r power. Y e t even when a state already M o s l e m , reformist, a n d m o d e r n was attacked, purification of the religion was still the incongruous excuse t o eliminate the f o r m e r H a b e rulers in order to install the local F u l a n i as leaders. T h e s e local Fulanis in each state merely went to Gobir to secure the blessings of U s m a n , now the Sarkin M u s u l m i , in the f o r m of a flag to be carried into battle. T h e possession of this flag d e n o t e d central authority's firm support of a jihad in the n a m e of G o d and his earthly representative, Sarkin M u s u l m i . In a n u m b e r of instances, two or three flags were given to conduct the jihad in a particular area, thus leading to local conflict a n d confusion. In Katsina, where three flags were doled out, on-again, off-again fighting between the contesting rival groups continued, interestingly enough right on u p to the establishment of a Franco-British b o r d e r between Niger and N i g e r i a — o n e emirate above the line, a n o t h e r below. K a n o fell to Sulemanu in 1807, Zaria to M o h a m m e d M u s a . O n e day during this early period U s m a n D a n F o d i o was holding court. It was crowded and people jostled about. Everyone was pushing a h e a d to gain audience with the G r e a t Shehu ( l e a d e r ) , to ask a favor or a flag. F o r seven days, an elderly gentleman stood quietly in the corner, gently observing the proceedings. While in the process of settling a dispute over the issuance of such a flag, Shehu U s m a n noticed him and a p p r o a c h e d . " D a t t i j o (old m a n ) ! W h y d o you s t a n d there in the c o r n e r ? " " I ' m waiting f o r the others to finish their business," the old m a n replied. " B u t w h e r e are you f r o m ? W h a t do you w a n t ? " " I a m f r o m K a n o , a n d I ask nothing, sir. I merely wish to pay my respects a n d send you salutations f r o m o n e of my kin, A b d u l azziz, w h o schooled with you in Agades ( t o d a y in Niger R e p u b l i c ) . " "Of course, I r e m e m b e r him w e l l — a brilliant student of t h e law. A n d w h a t is your line?" "Fiik ( l a w ) , t o o . " "Will you not then u n d e r t a k e t o b e K a n o ' s chief alkali?" " T h i s , sir, w o u l d be a great h o n o r a n d a weighty responsibility, but t h e r e are others in m y family w h o are m o r e learned, p e r h a p s Abdulazziz?"

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This, it is reported by word of mouth, was the first occasion on which a member of the Genawa Clan, from which Aminu derives, was mentioned in association with the law. Since then, many alkalis have been chosen from among the members of this family. There are currently at least thirty Genawa employed as alkalis or muftis. Apparently Aminu's maternal lineage also had many learned men and women dating back to the days of Dan Fodio. One of them, a very learned mallam, was singled out by Sulemanu, the first of Kano's Fulani emirs, to live within the palace walls and serve as his personal adviser. Mallams never had private means and therefore had to augment their meager pickings as best they could. This particular mallam was a pigeon-fancier, of all things, and sold them when necessary to augment his income. He was therefore referred to as Mallam Mai Tattabari (the mallam chief who raises pigeons), a title that has been used since then for his successors as the emirs' personal imams and advisers on Islamic law. Each has resided in the same compound within the walls of the palace, pigeons or no. 3 Although the wars continued sporadically for many years afterward, the jihad was considered to have ended in 1808 with the death of Yunfa, the last Hausa King of Gobir. With victory came a modicum of unity. Each of the city-states functioned semi-autonomously, continuing to pay homage to the Shehu, using him to settle some disputes, and the force of arms to settle others. Dan Fodio remained the philosopher of the movement while the fighting, and subsequent administration continued to be the domain of his brother Abdullahi and his son Bello. The question of which of the latter two would be supreme ruler was resolved by dividing the new empire into three areas: East, West, and Adamawa. The East was ruled from Sokoto with Bello as sultan; the West from Gwandu by Abdullahi; and the smaller Adamawa in the far East by one Adama and his successors. When Shehu Usman died in 1816, the touchy matter of his successor was settled when his son Bello quickly assumed the title of Sarkin Musulmi. Bello's uncle, Abdullahi, who was in Gwandu at the time serving as emir, was reluctant to accept this unilateral decision; but he did so after Bello helped him quash a revolt within his home terrain. As the split control gradually weakened during

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the decades which followed, the Sultan of Sokoto emerged as sole Leader of the Faithful. The essential achievements of the Fulani jihad were to create a unified system of government throughout Hausaland; to enforce and establish something resembling peace, permitting something resembling the free flow of trade; and to foster a significant revival of learning. The fact that the Fulanis used the basic political structure of the original Habe governments did not lessen these contributions of political unification and judicial standardization. They were, however, affected by certain distortions which developed after the initial spurt of reformist impulses that had moved minds and armies. The Fulanis had kept the centralized power structure that preceded them, with the emir in each state ruling by means of an extensive fief-holding and clientage system. The administrative machinery was much the same as it had been, though some attempts were made to conform to Moslem concepts of justice through the Shari'a courts and allegiance to the sultan. But even these attempts to limit the emir's sovereignty were quickly nullified. The emirs ignored admonitions from Sokoto up above, and dictated their decisions to alkali judges and local administrators down below. On this already existing reactionary and oppressive state apparatus the British superimposed their "indirect rule" in the first decade of the twentieth century. By the time they arrived on the scene, Fulani rule was autocratic and stagnant. Slave raids, slaveselling, and corruption were rife. But it was this structure that the British pledged to perpetuate, not the original reformist government of Shehu Usman Dan Fodio. His ideas were based on a rigorous, consistent application of Islamic justice. All people should have some privileges, but many more moral responsibilities to their fellows. They were expected to behave in a consistent, considerate fashion toward one another. Women as well as men should have an education and a fair degree of freedom of movement. Purdah, the custom strictly restricting one's wives to the confines of their quarters, was condemned as a pagan practice. These tenets of Usman Dan Fodio are what Aminu Kano fought for. The subsequent distortions of these principles are what he fought against. If we scrutinize Aminu's thinking closely over the

Then

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years, it becomes evident that he conceived of the Koran in nonfundamentalist terms, attempting to give a modern frame to the moral thinking contained in the Good Book. Hence his emphasis on those portions of the Koran that dwelt upon democratic precepts, women's rights, equality, and freedom. Aminu also seemed to cast himself as a man of destiny brought upon the scene to liberate his people—not in the stereotyped manner, but in a general way nevertheless. He was educated, single purposed, and willing to dedicate himself and his entire life to that purpose. The strong moral, religious pattern that had been impressed upon him in his youth and childhood shaped his later thinking. He felt strongly that the emirate system—although its adherents professed to be orthodox, fundamentalist followers of Mohammed and the Koran—actually had sunk into the same heresies committed by the Habe dynasties of Gobir and the other Hausa states around the turn of the century, in 1800. They were using the Koran to justify and bolster their own hierarchical status quo, but nowhere in the Koran was there justification for maintaining such authoritarianism. Aminu felt, and stated so many times, that correction of these injustices was not possible through reform of the existing governmental framework. That framework had to be cast out. During his early adult years in Bauchi, Aminu chose to function in an atmosphere conducive to struggle. There he felt that he was not alone, and that around him there was a nucleus of thought and action which could launch the great liberation battles and create the upheaval necessary to bring his people out of the middle ages, into the modern world. Thus he could set in motion his own brand of jihad. Tradition and Hausa beliefs called for a great redeemer to arrive and free the people, rather than for an organized mass struggle. Aminu Kano believed that a strong man was essential for the job and at times even toyed with the ideas of Mussolini and Hitler, but he soon realized that these did not fit the mold in the North. Strength, yes, but it had to lie in moral fortitude, the ability to remain true to the goal, not in brute force. Another leader, Mahatma Gandhi, came closer to fitting this pattern, and Gandhi's

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teachings and writings and very existence profoundly influenced Aminu's early thinking. H e never forgot the socioreligious background that tied him to his people, no matter how far away the winds blew him. Though he waged what was essentially a political crusade, much of his early criticism and struggle constituted a religious challenge and were even couched in religious forms and terms, as we shall see. His early years found him functioning as perhaps a Dan Fodio might have done, his middle years strongly reflected the Gandhi influence and his political maturation seemed to carry him beyond the selfdenial and moral strength of Gandhi's nonviolence, into the more modern, yet deeply rooted African experience of "selective violence" and self-protection, void of offensive aggressive action.

-3-

The Beginning

There was a hubbub in the compound of Mallam Yusufu, for his wife Rakaiya was with child. It would not be her first blossom, but the two that had come before were both girls and everyone was hoping for a male issue. It was the eighth day of Rabini Awal, in the year 1338—according to the Islamic calendar, that is.* Rakaiya's grandmother was busy preparing for her midwifery chores. There was the water for washing the expectant mother being heated in the yard. Another fire had been built indoors with the wood that Yusufu and his relatives had collected during the previous two or three months, so that Rakaiya's room was warm, albeit rather smoky. All her female kinfolk—her mother, mother-in-law, aunts, and sisters-in-law—were gathered in the yard just outside her door, some whispering, some laughing nervously, and one or two praying quietly. Rakaiya herself was absorbed in her rhythmic contractions and the accompanying pain and fear. She was not thinking of the child's gender or any of the details with which the people about her were busying themselves. All she wanted at that point was to feel the soothing warmth of the hot water that was to be applied to her body immediately after the birth. This prospect, and the thoughts of the piping hot baths she would be taking twice daily, and the taste of the hot highly spiced broth and meat and peppers with which they would be plying her sustained her through her travail. * 1920 A . D . T h e Islamic calendar starts with M o h a m m e d ' s hegira (flight), 622 years after the birth of Christ. Its year is shorter than the Gregorian calendar used by most of the Christian world, making an additional Islamic year every 32Vi Gregorian years.

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She had been listening to the women in the background muttering and murmuring just outside the door, when suddenly she felt a sharp, shooting, intense pain that caused her to gasp and cry out to her grandmother. Gogo Umma approached and, with an understanding nod, started to help her out of bed and onto the floor on all fours in the traditional delivery stance. The moment had come. Afterward, Rakaiya relaxed into an exhausted, semi-conscious state, with her eyes and head covered, asking nothing. At this stage it was not for her to cast eyes on her new offspring. Now her grandmother would be washing the baby with warm water. She herself had already been washed thoroughly, and a cloth had been tied around her midriff. The added warmth of the fire built in the hole under her bed seeped through to her muscles and bones. She was about to open her eyes and steal a look at her most recent production, when her grandmother called out in a loud voice to the women outside the door, "Allah be praised! It's a boy!" A woman magudya uttered the shrill cry (guda) which trumpeted the arrival of a child. That was all Mallama Rakaiya needed. Allah had been good and at last permitted her to bring forth a male offspring. As she dozed, she could hear vaguely the faint scraping noise of the hole being dug behind her quarters to bury the afterbirth and umbilical cord. Wafting through her mind were dreams of the young lad sitting at her feet, dutifully reciting Koranic verses to her. This was to be the brightest, the finest, the most upstanding of Moslem scholars in the finest traditions of the Genawa clan and their Fulani ancestors. The smile on her face lingered as she fell off into a deep sleep. Three days later, Rakaiya was feeling rejuvenated. Her husband Yusufu, she had been told, was pleased in his own austere manner, and was busy preparing for the Naming Day ceremonies three days hence. There was no need for the barber-doctor, who would normally appear at this point to imbed the facial markings of tribe on her sen, for the Town-Fulani would have none of this. She had finished the spiced broth and special ganda meat dish served to women who had just given birth. The ganda had been prepared in the courtyard from cows' legs that had been cleaned and cooked all night, and samples had been sent to her kinfolk and neighbors. The milk pulsated in her breasts; she was feeling warm and pampered. H e r turn to bathe would come in due time. Yes, everything had been done properly

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according to tradition. People could feel cozy and secure inside when they knew just what was coming next. One week after the birth, the gray of dawn was beginning to appear on the horizon, and people were bustling about. Rakaiya was strong enough to move around the compound, but until her son had a name she was not expected to show her face beyond the family's quarters (though on rare occasions the mallam permitted her to emerge into public streets). Outside the entrance to the compound, all the relatives, friends and neighbors had begun to gather. One or two arrived on horseback; the rest came on foot and sat comfortably on the goatskins and mats spread in the narrow alley-like street. Some were jesting and laughing; others looked sleepy and only mildly interested in the event of the morning. There were two other Naming D a y ceremonies that morning in the Sudawa section of Kano, and these were busy people. Finally Y u s u f u ' s brother Mazadu emerged, carrying a large calabash filled with kola nuts, which he began distributing to the men gathered around the entrance to the compound. Three or four bedraggled-looking "praise singers" had mysteriously appeared at about the same time and began to sing praises to Mazadu and Y u s u f u , the court scribe. They were the learned ones, the blessed, the arbiters of justice, etc., etc. Inside the courtyard, a ram had been led in on a tether and meekly awaited his classical fate. Y u s u f u leaned over and whispered something to the mallam who was presiding over the ceremony. He in turn murmured prayers appropriate to the occasion. Suddenly his murmuring became a s h o u t — " A n d the child shall be known by the name Mohammed A m i n u . " "Mohammed Aminu!" " T h e boy's name is Mohammed A m i n u ! " " M a y he live long to follow the path of his parents!" The shouts rapidly passed through the unlit halls and rooms of the compound into the street. Sing-song chants and vocal blasts came from a praise singer inside. When he repeated them to the women within the compound, he received their pennies saved for the occasion: " M a y he follow the path of his father and spread the light of Islam!" " M a y he do work useful to the people for all his days!"

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After the slaughter of the ram, Yusufu came out of the doorway, accompanied by the mallam of the prayers, and all crowded around to congratulate him. He acknowledged their good wishes graciously and soberly, taking time out only to give kola nuts and a piece of meat to the praise singers and the invited guests. Though the traditional parsimony of the Genawa was passed down in an Arabic song about Abdul Salam, one of their ancestors, the praise singer of those years was not likely to complain about meager almsgiving. The proper prayers were offered to the Prophet and for the newborn child. The mallam passed his open palms over his face, and the others gathered in the street did likewise, signifying that the procedure was coming to a close. The new and latest entrant into the line of Fulani scholars would take his rightful place as a servant of Allah in Hausaland. As the streaks of orange and blue that had dominated the eastern horizon faded and the ball of bright sunlight peeked its leading edge over the nearby rooftops, the assembled men filtered away. They went off to work, passing between the high walls of mud houses, huts, sheds, and leantos, through the narrow, winding alleys and pathways, past the confusion of donkeys, goats, and sheep; past the stagnant borrow pools and clay-terraced dye vats that dotted the landscape of Sudawa Ward. The dye craftsmen were already stirring the indigo and even dipping a shirt or two in the dye pots. This day had begun. In dealing with a birth and then a life, the further back in history one goes, the more fully the mantle of legend and myth casts its protective shadow over the life. All sorts of magical qualities can be attributed to a noted man, the more so if much time has elapsed. If at the other extreme, the man still lives, the qualities in him have not had time to mellow and ripen into semi-history in people's minds. In addition, these can be checked and verified to some extent by exposure to the cold light of modern "now" memory. Though one comes across many noteworthy tales of Aminu Kano's childhood that are of the stuff from which myths are made, they haven't had time to fully mature. The faithful however, already regard him as a kind of soothsayer and the embroidery process has begun.

The

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The stories of Aminu Kano's independence, stubbornness, courage, and defiance go all the way back to his earliest years. It was in July 1969 that Abubakar Naillalla, smiling and toothless, lifelong friend of Aminu's father Yusufu, reminisced about Aminu's early childhood in the 1920's. He dismounted from his tall white steed, one of the few horses still used for personal transport in Kano, removed his tropical hat, wiped his brow with the wrinkled, dirty sleeve of his gown, squatted on the ground, and started. Gogo Urama, one of Aminu's "grandmothers," had told him how Aminu the toddler would wake up at night and cry for a drink of water, knowing that his mother would lead him into the courtyard to drink from the calabash used for water storage. He would then wailingly insist on staying out to watch the stars. His mother quietly permitted him to remain and tried to explain the heavenly bodies to him as she understood them. Night and day she would spend much time with him, patiently teaching, proudly listening to her mite as he recited the first verses of the Koran, symbol of learning for all the Islamic Hausa-Fulani faithful. The aboriginal traditions had relegated women to second-class citizenship for centuries. Usman Dan Fodio, in his day urged the upgrading of the Hausa woman. He condemned the practice of purdah, or of isolating wives, and urged the faithful to educate their women. Although Hausa traditions lingered persistently, the Kano Genawa clan, a judicial branch of the mallam class, was among those who staunchly supported these principles of Dan Fodio and his lieutenants, Abdullahi and Bello. In this tradition, Aminu, as infant and child, was taught by the learned women in his life: his mother and grandmother. But the story goes that when his step-grandmother Umma, learned though she was, tried to teach the five-year-old Aminu, he rebelled. For one reason or another, he didn't like her. When she beat him with her grass fan, the young rebel had not yet absorbed enough of the centuries-old culture to cower and run away as quickly as his little legs could carry him. Horror of horrors! Instead, he took the drinking-water calabash in his hand and threw it at her! The entire compound was in consternation. When Yusufu returned, he sternly beat away at the child with a cudgel. Aminu stoically stood fast, with silent tears rolling down his face.

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"Is this a way to show your respect for an elderly w o m a n ? " the father asked. "Is that the way she should treat m e ? " sobbed the uncomprehending, frustrated child. His mother had watched the entire proceeding. H e r culture told her that the child should suffer and accept his fate; her motherly instincts and pampering love told her to intervene on his behalf. But instead she listened and did nothing. Although Rakaiya was deeply religious and insisted on ladabi, or politeness in her child, she was permissive in many respects. Half a dozen people remembered how the boy A m i n u would mark u p the walls with chalk or charcoal. He drew figures with loads on their heads, and overseers with whips in their hands, interpreted by the myth builders as oppressing Native Authority policemen and talakawa (worker-peasants) who A m i n u was going to free some day. Aminu himself sets no store by these recollections, but he does refer to the drawings as evidence of his mother's permissiveness. She looked upon his scrawls and scribbling as a first precocious groping for writing skills, marvelling thusly, "What kind of boy is this? Everything he sees he draws, everything he hears, he memorizes!" She imposed relatively rigid discipline on him only when it came to his recital of the Koran by rote. Nevertheless, Aminu at age five seemed to be stubbornly in pursuit of knowledge, already pushing against unopened doors to examine where they led. When an old man teasingly pointed to the sky and asked, "What is up there?" A m i n u answered, "I don't know, but I'll go see." He was, in his childlike way, questioning the superstitious concept of Kismet, the unknowing acceptance of the unknown. H e seemed to seek to know, to explain the unknown, rather than accept its inevitability. Y a t a k k o ( H a j i a ) , an elderly aunt of Aminu's, tells how, on one bright starry night, the six-year-old A m i n u approached her with a sad face and asked solemnly for three white cloths. T h e following day, his mother gave birth to twins, and all three died in childbirth. In light of H a u s a custom which decrees that upon death the body is laid to rest covered with a white shroud. Y a t a k k o could only marvel at the boy's prophetic request.

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Since the lack of modern medicine had denied Hausas the most elemental privilege of knowing the cause of death of their loved ones, they attributed all deaths to the same etiology; God's Will. Aminu is the sole survivor of his parent's union, though there were six births. The five other children died before the age of fifteen, three in infancy. How else could Yatakko and her generation explain the frequent early childhood and childbirth deaths? Sorrow and remorse were strong, but society had forced them to accept these as an inescapable part of their day to day existence. Aminu's living admirers, old enough to remember back to this early stage, regarded the bright, hyperactive child with awe, as a sort of boy-to-become-man-of destiny. What sort of destiny they could not comprehend, for he seemed always to walk an unbeaten path. But to them he had been chosen in some yet unknown way, to lead his people out of the current wilderness, even as others had been chosen before him. Aminu's explanation of his seeming clairvoyance in prophesying his mother's death, is this: he knew, from the whispers and the long faces of the women in the compound, how seriously ill his mother was. Indeed it was quite apparent, even to a six-year-old, that she was dying. Although he was very close to her, he cannot recall experiencing any severe emotional trauma at the time. The protective shield of the extended family in Hausa society made it quite normal for a child to move into the home of a close relative, even when both parents were alive. Thus, when Aminu began to bed down in the compound of his maternal uncle and grandmother in Madati Ward, the move upset his life much less than would a similar move into a foster home in Europe or America. Aminu's father, Mallam Yusufu, was a wise and learned man, as were his brothers, his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather before him, for this was the foreordained path of the Genawa. He was proud and independent and looked up to by the community. He and his fellow clansmen had been alkalis (judges) and teachers of the Koran as far back as memory and mouth-to-mouth history could take them; perhaps as far back as the Fulani migration into Africa's Western Sudan. The Fulanis had come as nomads and herders of cows, morally supported by a single-minded code of ethics that unquestioningly

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accepted the teachings of the P r o p h e t M o h a m m e d . They arrived in search of the temporal world of sustenance, of fertile pastures for their cattle, but in their quest, they carried with them the learning and religion of the Arabs of Supra-Saharan Africa. A f t e r they h a d settled in the rural, pastoral areas in large tent colonies, they sent the more learned a m o n g them as u r b a n representatives to barter for their herds and protect their interests. As their history developed, a gap began to grow between the rural and the town Fulani, until today they have gone well beyond the countrycousin relationship and are now but ancestrally distant relatives. The king and his courtiers took many of these town Fulani into the court as teachers for their children and as advisers in affairs of state. Eventually the jihad of U s m a n D a n F o d i o in 1 8 0 0 - 1 8 1 0 placed them in a d o m i n a n t role at the h u b of power. While all this was happening, the need f o r teachers, imams (ministers of Islamic f a i t h ) , a n d alkalis continued. These were a class by themselves, the so-called mallams. They were learned and respected, and their right to perpetual study was unquestioned; yet they had no place in the power structure save in a judicial capacity. It was f r o m this select group, however, that legal, religious and political advisors were chosen. T h e G e n a w a clan in K a n o were among the most respected of the mallams, and Y u s u f u was a m o n g the most respected of the G e n a w a . His puritanic adherence to the rigid ethical code of the Koran, theoretically accepted by almost all his co-religionists but practically applied by few, gained him his reputation as learned mallam. H e was strict, compromised but rarely, and carried his code to consistent conclusions with his wife, children, and pupils— a n d just as naturally into the courtroom. H e insisted that his children be properly tucked away at night, but permitted them their usual daytime pursuits—swimming in the waterholes o r b o r r o w pits, catching rats, and acting out scenes f r o m plays. W h e n Y u s u f u ' s first wife passed away in 1926, h e was a court scribe (i.e., court clerk) in one of the outlying districts of K a n o emirate. T w o years later, his brother-in-law J a f a r u was appointed chief alkali, and invited him to become chief mufti in his court. T h e r e Y u s u f u ' s task was to consider all the cases before the court, discuss them with the other muftis, and then, as part of a sort of council,

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m a k e recommendations to the alkali, whose decisions were based on these recommendations. His profession he inherited; his education he acquired. It was his God-given duty to pass that education on to o t h e r s — i n the f o r m of dispensing justice according to the Shari's legal code of the Prophet M o h a m m e d and in the f o r m of teaching others. A m o n g his students were some children, but most of them were adults who wanted to learn the law. T h e literal translation of mufti is " o n e w h o opens doors," and Y u s u f u was a literal man. Normally, when a mallam was teaching, he would seat himself on a m a t in front of his c o m p o u n d , with the children ( a n d some adults) squatting in front of him in a semicircle. H e would intone the scriptures a n d write them d o w n for the students to copy on their wooden tablets. By the time a child h a d completed his education, he was able to recite in Arabic, by rote, some sixty verses f r o m the Koran. T h e equivalent of a graduation would be granted first in a ceremony called sauka, and then eventually in the f o r m of the right to call himself mallam. But Y u s u f u ' s job was in the court, and when he sat himself down in f r o n t of his door with his books spread out, it was to discuss the contents of the Maliki or other of his judicial books with his friends. A m i n u describes his father as a man who was orthodox but not conservative, seemingly a contradiction. Y u s u f u adhered rigidly to the fundamentalist interpretation of the religious ritual of the Koran, but equally consistently to its moral code. H e taught his son in every way he could that G o d ' s gifts were found in three places: ( 1 ) in the palm of the h a n d — t h e material things in life; ( 2 ) in the h e a d — t h e ability to think a n d to apply one's thoughts to life; and ( 3 ) suspended in h e a v e n — t h e spiritual in life. Unless one properly used the first two gifts, he would never achieve the third, and none of the gifts should be used to the exclusion of the other. O n e should hurt no one, but go out of his way to help three categories of people—children, women, and the aged, or, as he saw it, those least able to help themselves. Y u s u f u regarded simplicity and humility as the symbols of a good Moslem a n d tried as he was able, to pass on these basic beliefs as the family tradition. H e could stand up firmly for women's rights, against personal acquisition of wealth; for all his principles with

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stubbornness and courage, though he might suffer the loss of God's gift, Category I, i.e. from the palm, as later developments proved. He truly believed the old Fulani tradition that one must inherit only books, for in order to use them, one must become learned. Aminu's reverence and concern for private property is similarly restricted to his much cherished library, indicating that though the the apple rolled far from the tall tree trunk described, at all times he remained an apple. His total monetary inheritance was five pounds, but he lauds his father's Moral Will and Last Testament by relating the story of the sultan who told three young men brought before him that unless each could justify his existence, he would be jailed. The first said, "I am the son of a great king." The second said, "I am the son of a very rich man who has distributed much largesse." The third said, "I am the son of a very learned man who has taught many, from far and wide." The sultan responded, that none of these justified their existence, for self-justification must be earned, not inherited. He proved his own worth in the process, however, by concluding, "All of you are young and have this lesson and much else to learn, so I must spare you imprisonment. Now go out in the world to prove yourselves"— as did Aminu, the teller of the tale. Rakaiya, Aminu's mother, had begun before her death to teach her son about life and the Koran. It is reported that just before she died, she said to Yusufu, "I leave him in your care. We named him Aminu, meaning trust. I trust that you will supervise his upbringing. You trust in him, and all of us must trust in Allah." Whether she actually spoke these words or not, Yusufu did watch over the lad as though she had. The husband of Aminu's paternal aunt was appointed chief alkali in 1928; a maternal uncle was Mai Tatabari, or imam in the emir's palace; and many other relatives were alkalis—a very illustrious family. Though a child was customarily farmed out to the grandfather or grandmother in his early years, Aminu was never "given away." Instead, for the few months it would take for Yusufu to find a new wife, he was placed in the competent hands of Umma, Rakaiya's mother, in the domicile of her son Halilu. Thus the lad had several compounds in which to lay his head: his father's, where he visited at

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least weekly, on Friday before prayer time; his grandmother's and uncle's; and those of his many other relatives. It was his uncle, Halilu, who was subsequently responsible for most of Aminu's Koranic studies, building on what the boy had already learned at his mother's side. Since so much of the educational process in Kano was simply memorizing the Koran, Aminu amazed those around him with his seemingly keen memory. The real reason was that he had learned to read and write very early, thus eliminating the laborious, painstaking memorization and writing of each verse, ordinarily not completed until age 15-18. He did not reach sauka, or graduation, until after his mother's death, but she undoubtedly would have been proud of him when he did. He had proved his worth by his ability to read and write the entire Koran. People were sure that the mallams must have cooked up for him an unusually powerful medicine to impart learning. (Concoctions of this sort usually consisted of honey and water and the washings of chalk from a slate with verses from the Koran on it.) Because Aminu reached sauka without writing the verses on his slate, he fulfilled the requirement by confidently reading and translating a private copy of the last page of the Koran before the invited guests. They were all seated on mats spread out in the inner court of Mallam Yusufu's compound, some facing the rooms of the women's quarters opening directly and individually onto the inner court; others facing them looked at the cooking fireplace, right in the courtyard. Part of the eight-foot outer mud wall that enclosed the entire compound served as a third side of the courtyard. The last wall was broken by an archway leading into a dark interior maze that included bedrooms for the men, two yards for goats and chickens, sitting rooms and toilet, and eventually led to the narrow alley in front of the house. The typical house had floors made of dried mud reinforced by termite-resistant, bound short lengths of palms and walls that were made by setting tubali, or mud cones wetted and dried for several days, into the wall, points up and buttered over with mud mortar. The builder would sit on top of the wall, without scaffolding, and was handed or thrown the mud material. The stagnant pools or borrow pits that grow between the otherwise closely placed mud houses, functioned equally as supply for this mud construction material and as swimming hole for children and Anopheles mosquito eggs. The

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exterior parapets were usually topped with traditional phallic symbols of fertility, or geometric designs cut in relief. Admiringly, the guests examined the pages of the Koran and listened to Aminu's flawless rendition of its contents. He went from one mallam to the next, demonstrating his prowess. Finally he came forward, hair shaved and immaculately dressed in a fine new gown acquired for the occasion, ready for the formal aspect of the ceremony. He sat himself quietly in front of his teacher, his uncle Halilu. The guests listened as he read a portion of "Bakara," the longest chapter of the Koran. Then the teacher read a short prayer, followed in reprise by the guests, and each of the other mallams repeated the process. The youngsters who had not yet achieved sauka crowded around Aminu, passing their hands over the graduate's head and then over their own, in the traditional manner, hoping in this way, by osmosis and God's will, to absorb some of the student's wisdom so they too would one day reach sauka. Aminu spent a httle over a year with his Uncle Halilu and grandmother Umma. By that time Yusufu had remarried, and took his charge back into his own compound. But Aminu continued to study the Koran with his uncle, whose learned status was attested and given official recognition some years later by his appointment as Mai Tattabari, or personal imam to the emir. When that occurred, Halilu was required to move into the quarter reserved for the "mallam who keeps pigeons," within the palace walls. Throughout his childhood, Aminu loved to dramatize his thoughts and dreams in play. From his early years—when leadership qualities first began to manifest themselves in his childlike desires to be the "chief"—and on through his student years, he often acted out his complaints, criticisms, and aspirations in dramatic form. In his aggressive attempts to represent himself as the leading figure, he would compose the play, assign parts to his playmates, and of course reserve the role of Provincial Officer or even Governor for himself: This to such a degree that his grandmother and mother too, called him "amale," (the lead camel in the caravan). In this indirect form he acknowledged the British presence, the ultimate authority image being the bature, or white overlord. He would push his shirt into his trousers, Western style, a pan on his head, and declare himself "education officer," or an equivalent authority. Only when he came

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down out of the clouds to more realistic levels would he deign to accept the role of emir, or chief alkali. While he and two other youngsters were in the midst of such play one day, they were approached by Mallam Balarabe, son of Jafaru, the Chief Alkali of K a n o and Y u s u f u ' s sister, and asked if they would like to go to English school. Although the m a l l a m was educated enough in the traditional sense to eventually become the alkali of Garki, at that transitional period in Nigeria's history he was aware of the value of European-style education. He felt he was beyond the stage where he could acquire one himself, but he did not see why the more ambitious youngsters should be denied it. These three eager children, including a younger brother, a nephew of J a f a r u ' s , and A m i n u , could and should be given this advantage. They were to be sent to the Shehuci Primary School as children of J a f a r u . He was to recommend them himself and provide them with uniforms, thereby insuring their acceptance. A m i n u , aged ten, and thirsty for knowledge, was elated. He would learn the English language, customs, and, most important, m o d e r n ways. Nigeria was f o u n d e d as though it were a collection of individual but p y r a m i d e d building blocks with small families organizing at first into villages and clans. These in turn grouped into larger kingdoms, emirates, or principalities, though not all u n d e r centralized control. This consolidation continued through indigenous conquest followed by the advent of the British, who a d d e d their regional administrative units and subsequently joined t h e m into a greater whole, a nation, Nigeria. Since a nation defines itself through its historical d e v e l o p m e n t , only time will tell whether it holds together or breaks a p a r t into separate units, with the Nigeria-Biafra civil war as its severest test so far. But regional administration under the British was the statusquo in the 1920's when A m i n u K a n o began his life. T h e r e was a cultural cohesiveness to the area known as N o r t h e r n Nigeria, in spite of its m a n y minority tribes, large and small. W h a t held it together was the H a u s a language and the c o m m o n heritage of the F u l a n i Conquest of the region in early Nineteenth C e n t u r y extending through the British occupation with its indirect rule.

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Although the British superstructure totally dominated the administrative apparatus, this was not so evident to the bulk of the population of Hausaland. Their usual contacts with government and authority in general were with the administrative assistants to the emir and his courtiers. In the countryside there were the village, hamlet and district heads; in Kano City proper there were the Sarkin Dawaki (City Administrator), the Madaki (Prime Minister), and the Emir himself, while the alkalis, the imams, and the teachers that constituted the mallam class, sat in legal and moral judgment over the people. Throughout the emirate, the administrative faces of justice were the Native Authority Police, and the alkali courts, rather than the British police and court system set up for non-Moslems. It was only in very very special circumstances that the superior power of the British was invoked, and even rarer that the British countermanded any Native Authority action. When the British officially took over governmental reins in Kano in 1903, in their effort to make as few waves as possible, they simply reinforced the powers of the emir and the pre-existing administrative structure. In some areas the emir was made Sole Native Authority, even where he had never achieved this status previously. In other cases they actually created a sovereign emirate where none had existed. From the imperial viewpoint, the subtle system of checks and balances between clan heads, king makers, courtiers, and the emir, was too complex and inefficient to continue. They found it more judicious to deal with one authoritarian figure, reinforced by the implied and often real threat of their military might. Thus in many cases the appointment of alkalis, became the exclusive domain of the emir, where discussion, consultation, and recommendation had been integral parts of the process. The British most certainly retained ultimate veto power, but more often than otherwise were very reluctant to use it, lest they undermine the emir's newly acquired and augmented "total authority" status in the community. The persistently independent Genawa attitudes which had survived up to that point, either had to disappear into submission and conformity, or sullen acceptance, or to find other channels for protest. This then was the soil in which Aminu Kano, the rebel, took sturdy root and began to develop as a young sprout.

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The Student

Out of a background of deeply entrenched tradition, high on the ladder of a stratified class structure which sharply delineated the role of each of its component parts down to the last rung, came Aminu K a n o , the upstart, the leader, the groper for knowledge, the revolutionary. His early school years scarcely reflected what his future role would be, save in the broadest outline. He could never have been accused of being a follower even then, for he was always brash, eager, and aggressively concerned with everything in his environment—including the learning process and how to filter it down to those about him. On the way home from school he would gather the young children around him to show them his books, with their pictures and maps, and enthusiastically report anything he might have learned that day. Often his lunch break would be devoted to the writing of Koranic verses on his slate and then testing the youngsters, at the same time sharing his food with them. F r o m these first school days he was a constant proselytizer for more education, better sanitation, and scrupulous cleanliness for all. This triad later formed a base for his early energetic one-man campaigns for modernization and self-help. B y the time he entered Shehuci Primary School at age ten, he had already begun to sop up the A B C ' s and the written English language through such diverse methods as copying automobile license numbers and words from cigarette tins. Thus his progress was rapid right from the start. School began each day at seven A.M. and continued for only four hours, but Aminu was involved day and night with study and play related to educating himself. H e had the usual childlike reluctance to speak a new and foreign language, but after

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buttressing his knowledge of English with three years of study in primary school (ordinarily four or five years), he adapted easily and quickly to the spoken English in Kano Middle School, where it was compulsory. His avid interest in education showed up in other ways too. Under pressure from the youngster, his father reluctantly agreed that the home of Mallam Baba, eldest son of Chief Alkali Jafaru and Yusufu's sister, was a more convenient abode for Aminu in his new status as student. In addition to having the son and younger brothers of Mallam Baba as play- and schoolmates, Aminu would be only half a mile from the schoolhouse. Thus his concept of home was extended still further. Mallam Baba's mother (Aminu's aunt) was by that time divorced from her husband, Jafaru, and lived within the compound of her son, as did his children and younger brothers. Then on Fridays Aminu would return to his father's house to pay his respects, attend the Friday prayer, and continue to demonstrate progress in his study of the Koran. Boarding at Kano Middle School in 1933 created yet another domicile for the boy and a further loosening of his home ties. Rebelliousness was not yet an integral part of Aminu's make up. He still paid deference where it was due: to his elders, his father, and generally those above him in the pecking order. However, his brashness and initiative were becoming more and more evident. When Aminu and his two cousins, Inuwa and Abba, were late for school one morning and unhurriedly approached the school gate, the headmaster was standing there, tapping his foot impatiently. He saw that the youngsters were still wearing their shoes, although they were expected to remove them on entering. Aminu, the spokesman, explained their double delinquency—being tardy and being still shod — b y stating that they were all wearing tight shoes, which slowed them up. Oddly enough, the headmaster didn't accept this as a valid excuse, and proceeded to give each of them three whiplashes, and even more numerous and severe tongue lashings. Other testimony to this type of childhood leadership comes from Shehu Sattatima, a childhood playmate, who describes how Aminu would lead him into the remote alleyways and corners of Kano, into strange homes, where he would look around quickly, speak a few words, excuse himself and leave.

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Yusufu, Aminu's father, encourage, ,; md favored his child, for he knew that the boy was honest, impatient, and energetic. More than this, he knew that Aminu quickly picked up knowledge, and was ready to pass it on like a true mallam—all qualities revered by the strict, straight-laced scholar. He had hoped that his son would follow a judicial career, but the die was cast when Aminu went to primary school rather than the Moslem Judicial School. Even as an adolescent, the boy had his sights set well beyond Kano and a judicial role. He was to be an innovator, not an interpreter. To be sure, there was evidence of his future rebellious role, other than a general manifestation of dominance behavior. In 1935, long before our modern-day student unrest, he was a ringleader in a strike of Kano Middle School students against a shortage of soap, poor food, too many restrictions, and too severe a code of behavior. The guile and mastery of tactics which in later years made it so difficult for the British to categorize Aminu came through even then, for although a few others were punished, Aminu's role was never discovered. Aminu had a healthy youth's interest in athletics, but the kind of mental energy consumed in his quest for knowledge never had its counterpart in physical activity. A little later on, in college, he became absorbed in scouting, but more as a means of attracting youths toward self-betterment and a modern outlook, than for its out-of-doors appeal. He had demonstrated his early orientation toward organized activity, while still in middle school, by assembling students with similar interests, to discuss their lessons and help the weaker members of the class. Sanitation and personal hygiene had much more significance for Aminu and Kano during his school and early college days than did the repeated admonitions to keep clean that we Westerners heard in our childhood. In Africa, the high mortality rate was directly related to infections and diseases that were already well on the way to being controlled in Europe and the U.S. Smallpox, bilharzia, and malaria, all highly contagious, were the terrible killers of those years, and even today remain a serious threat. Aminu's contacts with the West, principally through books and schoolteachers, led him to devote much energy to imparting his advance knowledge of disease-control to his fellow citizens. To equate the phrase "dirty

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old mallam" with religiosity, a concept prevalent at that time, was anathema to Aminu, who wanted cleanliness to be considered synonymous with high morality and deep religious conviction. H e himself always wore immaculate white, and insisted on neatness and prompt medical care. Mallam Baba used to joke about Aminu, saying that he needed a full kerosene tin containing four gallons of water for his bath, while everyone else needed only one gallon. When, in desperation, a woman from the village came to his father for prayers for her foot, swollen with pus, Aminu assured her that the swelling was not due to jinns or evil spirits contained within it, but to rapidly proliferating microorganisms and the body's reaction to them. Doubt and disbelief was her initial reaction, but when he directed the woman to carefully debride the wound with his "medicine" (salt dissolved in water which had been used to wash a slate with prayers written on it) instituting antiseptic treatment in this way, she agreed and recovery resulted. After that, he became the all-knowing youngster, or even the good counter-jinn spirit. The role of modern medicine would be considered only incidental to the process. Had he brought her to the nurse or doctor, she probably would have rejected treatment. To this day young Hausa admirers of Aminu point to their spotlessly clean robes and give their leader credit for inspiring them to scrupulous personal hygiene. This has remained one of Aminu's continuing educational campaigns, extending now to urging more utilization of hospital facilities for childbirth, surgery, etc., and universal vaccination against the real scourge of West Africa, smallpox. Very few people went through the schooling process in Northern Nigeria in the 1930's. Such education was generally restricted to the children of royalty and occasionally extended to those of the aristocracy and the related mallam class. Katsina College, which opened in 1922 and was relocated and transformed into Kaduna College in 1936, was the only secondary school in all of Northern Nigeria. The original concept of this school, as described by the Sardauna of Sokoto in his autobiography, 1 was that of a training ground for princes, similar to those set up by the British in India. Graduates of this sole secondary school were considered to be teachers all. After three years, they could teach in lower schools; after five years, they could teach in any higher school. Many of them

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stayed with the profession for years; other quickly went over to the Native Authority, the local administrative apparatus for the emirate system. Thus, a list of Aminu's teachers in the lower and middle schools would read like a Who's Who in Kano. The Madaki, Shehu Ahmed, and the Sarkin Dawaki, Bello Dandago, both taught him geography and history; other teachers were Mallam Jibir Daura, former secretary of the Emir's Council, Mohammadu Gwarzo, the emir's councillor, and so on down the list. Since they ultimately represented the emir and the establishment, most of them later became Aminu's political adversaries. Yet they all testify that he was of leadership mettle and liked by most of his mates; that he was earnest, clever, and hard-working; and that, as the Madaki of Kano says, "He wasn't troublesome—that came later with politics." The elegant Sarkin Dawaki, speaking with a finely clipped British accent, remembers him well as a persistent questioner who tenaciously held to a point of view either until he prevailed or until what he considered sufficient evidence was presented to convince him otherwise. Although he respected teachers as authorities (up to a point), he resisted paying the deference normally given, and resented doing anything or taking orders without adequate explanation. He was considered responsible enough, however, to have been appointed prefect of Galadima House in middle school, and then again a senior prefect of Lugard House at Kaduna College. In middle school he was in charge of some one hundred fellow students; in college, about forty. The boarding-in arrangements organized the students into "houses," for competition and convenience, and set one boy above the others as prefect. He received a bit more pocket money, perhaps an extra uniform, and a private room for his pains. All the prefects in college together constituted a small governing body, principally for food and uniform distribution. Young Aminu's probing mind reached out in all directions, at times creating problems for his teachers—when he asked questions a boy his age shouldn't. He wanted the biblical inconsistencies concerning Gog and Magog explained. The heroes of West African history, Askia Abubakar and Askia Ali, whose tales were in the realm of myth and therefore vague and contradictory—all excited him. Through it all, his teachers report that Aminu was a top student,

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and that made him Kano's prime candidate for ongoing study at Kaduna College the year he passed out of middle school at Middle Four level. Examining his relationship to the representatives of the status quo, and his peer groups during his early school years in Kano, seems to yield few insights for though his leadership qualities were observable, what forms these would take were not. His rebellion hadn't started yet, as his family's social position still dominated his life. Nevertheless, the combination of this particular social origin and this dynamic personality would eventually be the key, for as quoted by Bello Dandago, Sarkin Dawaki, "Childhood shows the man as morning shows the day." 2 "To become a man," means different things to different people. Since the becoming is a process not a fait accompli, attempts to pinpoint the period when this takes place, would at once be shown to be impossible and relatively unimportant. The best one can do is to try to bracket the approximate period. Objective events, e.g. marriage, vocation, economic independence, and residential quarters, are a good part of it. Change in the thinking of the individual is certainly significant too. Normally, the child's world is self-centered and selfconcerned, his time occupied with satisfying the physiological or psychological needs of the moment. Only when the decisions in his life are his own can he be categorized as a grown up. In these terms, there is little doubt that Aminu became a man between the ages of seventeen and twenty-two, at Kaduna College. It was there that he began to think in social terms, there that he was able to put together a strong ego identity, and there that his life's pattern began to take shape. His career choice, though complex and changing, was made in 1940 at the completion of three years' training. Two marriages were consummated, but most decisive to the future developments in his life was the change in his thought processes and his personality. It was during this period that Aminu's steadfast refusal to accept traditional solutions to social and political problems became the frame within which he was to paint his life's canvas. He had yet to decide what was to be the medium of his creative efforts but so far as subject matter and form went, politics it was then and politics it remains today.

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Abdu Mani, a fellow student of Aminu's at Kaduna, says that Aminu never became a politician; he was born that way. 3 But his future was not really foreordained, for his career choice ran the gamut from policeman through lawyer to teacher. In 1940 he could not consider politics as a career choice for the only political opportunity that existed then was in the Native Authority—and that surely wasn't his cup of tea. The alternative for him at the time was social rebellion, followed by religious challenge. Not until the later 1940's was he finally able to put his life into political terms, and not until the 1950's, when he led the first political party in the North, could he totally adjust his career toward politics. As a rule, Aminu did not take up the gauntlet against tradition and authority solely for the sake of the challenge. He thought many of his people's customs silly, and couldn't see himself conforming, any more than could his traditional mother, who insisted on teaching her offspring herself, rather than sending him off to another mallam and another household, at a time when the latter course was the pattern. Most of these conventions represented an acknowledgment of, and deference to, social superiors—such as the traditional prostration of social inferiors or removing one's shoes in the presence of a parent, teacher, or ruler. In Hausa tradition, an inferior must always be in lower position physically. He must bow or kneel when the superior is present or, in some instances, actually lie on the ground when his superior is seated. Aminu's rejection of such stultifying mores extended through the field of religion and right on into politics, his area of greatest effectiveness. Aminu's noncompliance with convention was universally recognized, and by and large accepted (though sometimes reluctantly), by those who encountered it. Not always, however. One day E. L. Mort, the British principal at Kaduna—an elderly, mid-Victorian gentleman, quite inhospitable to any defiance of rigidly established social patterns—invited Aminu to meet a visiting dignitary. Aminu was standing under a covered veranda, waiting for one of those unbelievably heavy tropical downpours to let up a little, when the principal beckoned to him from an automobile. Aminu reluctantly left his sanctuary and approached the principal's car. But before introducing the student to his honored guest, Mr. Mort looked down at the muddied and puddled ground, with rivulets flowing rapidly

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over his student's feet, and said, "Aminu—what about your shoes?" The response of the impatient and incredulous youth was, "Yes sir, what about my shoes?" This didn't exactly endear him to the school head, who drove off angrily without further comment. Although Aminu's modernism prevented him from bowing to constituted authority, he was almost always able to retain a tone of civility, permitting him to continue working relationships with those accustomed to symbolic traditional humility. This same E. L. Mort ended up as a tutor at the University of London, in 1947, where he was responsible for the academic conduct of the seven Northern Nigerians, including Aminu, who were sent to study in England as a second small batch of students from the area. He tried, probably unwittingly, to continue holding the colonial reins he had first taken up while back at Kaduna College, but Aminu (and several of his friends) rejected such treatment, as he had done back at Kaduna, while still maintaining a cordial relationship. The four corners of the aforementioned life frame of rejection of traditional solutions, within which Aminu built his life, were; ( 1 ) A basic revulsion to injustice, whether he was protesting a bully's behavior toward his intended butt, or a child's thoughtlessly cruel treatment of a hapless animal; ( 2 ) The courage to combat this injustice when visible; ( 3 ) An innate need to communicate, convince and to lead, whether it was through the back alleyways of Kano City, in the dormitory of Galadima House in Kano Middle School, as a teacher or a politician; ( 4 ) and his peculiar social position between regal might on the one hand and its victims on the other. For a person with this combination of qualities, breaking out of the old Native Authority patterns was the only promise for meaningful change. But Aminu had not yet reached that stage in his thinking. When injustice was wreaked by what he called "Native Autocracy" he continued to accept the system, thinking that if this particular emir were changed things would be different. It was during his later years at Kaduna and thereafter, that his radicalization took place. At Kaduna College, while Aminu was still young and subject to the pressures of family and society, his drives to communicate, to convince, and to lead took several forms. H e organized a Science Society with about ten other interested students, giving the word "science" a broad enough interpretation to permit ventures into

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areas not usually associated with science. He became chairman of the Photographic Society, whose members augmented their pocket money by snapping and developing photos for sale, using the school's facilities. He made the varsity teams in hockey and football (soccer) but was far from an outstanding athlete. On the other hand, he achieved some eminence in physical training. While at Kano Middle School, he had become interested in physical fitness and, with characteristic energy, was soon leading the calisthenics. When he reached Kaduna College, the drillmaster in charge was one of only two Nigerian teachers, a Mr. Onimole. Being a Yoruba, he led the activities in the English style. At Kano, Aminu had drilled Hausa style, in Arabic, with a drum rhythm that was quite different. When Mr. Onimole saw him leading a group in this latter fashion, he suggested that Aminu try it with the entire school. Evidently it was a successful attempt, for Aminu was then made drillmaster and adapted the local-style rhythms to the English language. Here he was issuing commands and evoking direct responses, which must have given him some satisfaction, but drilling did not invoke his moral convictions or permit him to challenge the onerous social strata. Dramatics, however, did. Here he could compose a play, using his natural libertarian bent, in developing its themes; all his cunning to couch this in terms which wouldn't alienate him from his potential audience; his leadership qualities in directing it; and finally he could act in it, thus gaining popular recognition and staying in the public eye. This segment of his college life occupied much of his extracurricular time and must have been highly effective, for without exception, everyone who knew Aminu during this period spoke of his successful efforts at drama—often with an accompanying chuckle. Aminu knew how to make his plays humorous, in spite of the touchy nature of their subject matter. Shakespeare, who knew how to appeal to the masses of people, served as his model. With characteristic intensity and originality, he was able to combine the ideas of Rousseau, Voltaire, Jefferson, and Tom Paine with Shakespeare's popular approach, to synthesize dramatic works with which Hausa people could identify closely.

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The students built a little stage in a field at the school, and the actors would emerge from behind a straw-screened shelter when it was their turn to appear on the stage. T h e performances were usually associated with one of the religious festivals (Sallah), and would serve as a diversion from prayer or to fill an interlude when nothing else was scheduled. The audience would assemble in a natural but improvised amphitheater, sitting on scooped-out steps. A broad spectrum of the populace attended—from the emir and his district heads and administrators to the townspeople, teachers, students, and lowborn talakawa. The plays were usually performed in the Hausa vernacular but occasionally in English, depending on the intended audience. Aminu was generally the playwright as well as actor and director—sometimes drawing upon literature and converting prose into drama, at other times using strictly original material. The students permitted him to take almost total responsibility for he dared to do what no one else would. The others participated, not reluctantly, but a little fearfully, for they were well aware that when Aminu wrote he was usually treading on toes, sometimes lightly, sometimes not so lightly. A former classmate, Abdu Mani, put it: " H e is the engineer, seated in the locomotive, pulling the rest of the train, us conservatives with him. Whether we agreed with him fully or not, we appreciated what he did, said, or meant and inevitably got dragged along with him." One of the plays the boys performed was entitled, "Kar Ka Bata Hajin N a k a " (Alhaji, Don't Spoil Your " H a j " [trip to Mecca]), later changed to "Alhaji Ka Iya Kwanga," roughly translated as "The Alhaji Knows How to Dance the Conga." As the latter title hints, the theme warns Nigerians not to be taken in by the superficial lures of modern Western ways. Imitation was doomed to fail. Instead, through education, they should change their own customs. He ridiculed the old traditional way of life, of turbans and long, flowing robes whose pockets bulged with good luck charms. Through gross exaggeration he indicated that a simpler daily costume would be very much in order. Nor should the old rigid mallams be relied on as authorities. He attempted to make each play entertaining and amusing, and yet with a piercing point of view. Another drama broadly satirized

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the pomposity of the British district officer (D.O.) by presenting him onstage with pillows tucked into his belt and covering them with flowing robes. He was announced by the town crier, who ordered that all the dogs of the village be prevented from barking, the children from crying and shouting, and the donkeys from braying so that the visiting D.O. could have peace and quiet. As a sop to the British in the audience, he had this same D.O. join in the dance in the closing scene. One of the players relates that his expatriate employer berated him after one such performance, warning him away from Aminu and his plays. Yet another vignette, among the first that Aminu wrote (in conjunction with one Garba Kano), was entitled, "Who Are You That You Can't Be Deceived by the Market People?" It satirized the big-city chauvinism and cosmopolitanism of Kano people by portraying a Kano merchant as full of guile and cunning and warned the audience, particularly the peasants, not to be taken in by the city slicker. The plays continued to be put on at the college even after Aminu left for his teaching assignment in Bauchi. Maitama Sule reports that though he personally arrived as a student at Kaduna College after Aminu had been graduated, almost all the plays in which he acted were written by Aminu. He remembers that on one occasion the students swarmed to the railroad station to greet Aminu when they heard that he was enroute from Kano to Bauchi and would stop for a short time in Kaduna. The train was delayed for several hours, so they all trooped over to the field to perform a play of his on which they had been working. Aminu, when he arrived, joined the cast, greatly impressing the admiring students with his impulsiveness and vitality. These short plays—or "revues," as they were called—were among the first to be performed in Northern Nigeria. No one in that rigid and unbending society was too sacrosanct for Aminu's ridicule; yet he scrupulously avoiding attacking any individual. He carefully carried this principle into his political years, learning to attack what he considered evil ideas rather than the people who promulgated them. Down through the ages, Hausa-Fulani culture, lacking a written language, utilized the dramatic form to convey thoughts. Even after

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Arabic letters were eventually applied phonetically to the vernacular, only the most learned, miniscule fraction of the people were able to read. Mallams entered a village and lectured to all who would listen. The masses remembered and comprehended more readily if meter and rhyme were employed, much like songs and in many instances the presentations were actually chanted. Here too one should mention the so-called "praise-singers," who functioned in a manner not unlike the epic poets and wandering minstrels like Homer, in Greek tradition. Aminu, a total product of the Hausa soil, instinctively utilized all these accepted traditions to sway the people, becoming well known as a Hausa poet in the process. He never returned to Kano from college without organizing some dramatic presentation or delivering lectures on the subjects he felt were important. This he did to such an extent that at a reunion of his Kaduna College class in '49, Aminu was dubbed "The Praise Singer" by one Mallam Dan Mati. The students needed rather long holidays if they expected to return home, for travel was slow and arduous—and could be expensive. One holiday lasted forty-two days, another twenty-eight. Since secondary school students were rarities in Kano, whenever Aminu returned home and announced that he would hold a lecture in City Council Square, or the library, or a hall, always crowds flocked to hear him. He was fluent, had a good sense of humor, and usually had something absorbing to say, for he was one of them. He was learned in the Koran and interspersed his comments with religious allusions, which made him more persuasive to devout Moslems. H e was the first to combine his close ties to the people with a wisdom culled from beyond their society's usual sources in order to struggle against the established order. At one time, he applied for and received the customary permission from the emir to hold his open lecture and discussion, this time on health care. Invitations had been sent, giving time, location, and topic. The audience was large and assuredly all male, for the Kano women had kutxya and knew their proper place was at home. The discussion turned to the ever-present danger of venereal diseases. Aminu had indicated that these were transmitted by body contact with women, and consequently warned the men to avoid promiscuous relationships. When a questioner asked, "What hap-

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pens if the man is the source of the contagion?" he didn't answer but, calm and unperturbed, went on to other questions. People thought he didn't hear the question, but Nasiru Kabara, present at the time, interpreted his silence as an admission that he didn't know the answer and that when he learned it, he would perhaps bring the information back to the gentleman. To a Westerner, this evasion would seem to show an inability to admit ignorance, but Nasiru Kabara, respected head of Kano's Judicial School and an Islamic scholar of some note, interpreted it differently, in light of the old, conservative Hausa culture. He said that normally a learned mallam faced with a question he could not answer would not admit his lack of knowledge and would try to answer. To him, Aminu's silence and change of subject was an admission that he could not answer the question. Nasiru recalled an old tale about one Imam Malik, who could answer only nine of one hundred religious questions put to him and admitted it in a similar fashion. This imam is reputed to have said, "He knows best who knows what he knows not." Aminu, said Nasiru, must have known the legend, for he was aware that Aminu knew his teachings well. Whether Aminu lectured on sanitation, education, or politics, his goal was always to transmit information. He is remembered fondly by the people of Kano, from the emir on down (so long as he avoided controversial subjects), for these energetic efforts to bring light to his neighbors and friends. The people listened and agreed, though some, like Inuwa Wada, teacher in Kano Middle School after Aminu was graduated and Federal Minister of Works in the 1960's, thought him too impulsive and revolutionary, always impatient for faster change. Inuwa thought that when people are just awakening to problems, they should be given a chance to stretch their muscles over a period of time and eventually to begin to take steps, always very slowly—the view of a true gradualist. The first really momentous decision Aminu faced in life was in 1940, at age twenty, when he had to decide on his career. Decisions had been made before that, of course, but none quite so profound. Of the twenty-seven boys who graduated after three years from Class VI of the secondary school, those who planned to continue their schooling were automatically expected to become teachers; that was the way it always was. But not Aminu. He shocked Mr.

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Patterson, the Resident of Kano, when he announced that he wanted to study law. (There were no lawyers in Shari'a court, and all Moslems were expected to use this court rather than the parallel magistrate's courts.) "But, Aminu, you are a Moslem! What would be the point?" Aminu doggedly stuck to his choice, to no avail. When he had finished middle school, he had rejected the pressure of his father, his relatives, and fellow clansmen to study Shari'a law in the Islamic Law School in Kano, but at this point in his secondary schooling he seriously considered studying for a legal career through the British educational system. Interested primarily in getting justice through law, not in the law itself, he set his sights toward that which would place him above, or at least outside, the aegis of the emir and the local jurisdiction. Though of patrician parentage, on the fringe of aristocracy, his political inspiration and life style derived from the young educated few and from the lowborn talakawa at the other end of the spectrum. Unfortunately, in order to escape the talons of the tradition-drenched, strongly entrenched establishment, he needed the cooperation of the British. Lacking it, he had to turn in other directions. His next choice was medicine. Yaba Higher College, located in southern Nigeria, trained dispensers, or pharmacists, who could go on to England for a degree in medicine, if they so chose. However, the long-range prospect was discouraging. Aminu would have had to spend a year more at King's College in Lagos before being admitted to Yaba, and there were fewer than a handful of such potential students. What with much student unrest at that time (1940), the principal of King's was not eager to enroll someone of Aminu's ilk. After rejecting what he considered a flattering offer to serve as head of the Kano Emirate Library, Aminu surprisingly turned to the army. But here too, he was rejected and then subsequently by the police force for the same reason—his height. He was five feet four, an inch shorter than the minimum requirement. The principal of Kaduna College continued to strongly urge, push, and cajole him into the teaching profession, but Aminu, though convinced of the importance of imbibing and teaching knowledge, resisted. It was a Dr. R. E. Miller, the science teacher at Kaduna, who finally persuaded him to join the other thirteen students for advanced

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teacher training. Dr. Miller's argument went thus: "Look, I'd advise you to join the teaching class. With the war going on, and the Germans advancing on all fronts, it isn't inconceivable that Hitler may temporarily take over Nigeria. In such a case, you would need a professional hiding place, and what better place than teaching? Besides, I would take you as the sole teacher-in-training for science —one of your great loves, right?" By this time the inter-session was almost over, so Aminu hastily reported for the beginning of the September term. His special status in science was rather short-lived, however, for Dr. Miller was drafted into the British Army by December and, lacking a science teacher, Aminu had to join the others in social science, geography, and history. He backed into the profession of teaching in this way, squeezed into the mold that the British and Fulani aristocracy had formed for all young educated Northerners . . . or so they thought. The first year of advanced teacher training was much the same as the preceding three years, but the second year consisted of practice teaching in middle schools; five months in Bauchi, five months in Zaria, and two months visiting schools in the south. This final year served as a kind of decompression chamber, or transition to his politicization, but in the process one event had a major impact on his thinking. This concerned his father, Yusufu. In 1941, while Aminu was student teaching, back home in Kano the local political machinations had been continuing apace. Chief Alkali Aminu of Kano (uncle of Aminu Kano and brother-inlaw of Yusufu) had died, and his replacement had to be chosen by the emir, subject to the British administration's approval. Aminu's father, then chief mufti in the Chief Alkali's court, was the logical successor, with his learning and Genawa background. Evidently Emir Abdullahi Bayero had his reservations, though the British clearly approved such a choice. As mufti in the Chief Alkali Court, Yusufu had never attempted to curry favor from the emir's advisers, nor for that matter from the emir himself. He would not modify his advice to the Chief Alkali to suit these courtiers, nor had he joined the others to pay homage to them during the Sallah festivals, and as a result was unpopular in court. To gain time to consider an alternative, the emir appointed Yusufu as "Acting" Chief Alkali. As a Genawa, Yusufu preferred the relative independence of the alkali

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courts to a subordinate role in the emir's court, so Yusufu the traditionalist accepted his new responsibility unquestioningly. That was the way it had been done and so it remained. The British ambivalence showed itself clearly here; on one hand they encouraged modernity and judicial independence, on the other they wanted to function through their sole Native Authority, a direct contradiction —so they resolved it by conceding to authoritarianism, a path they had trod many times before. Mallam Yusufu's consistently inflexible concern for justice as he conceived it, placed him in direct conflict with the emir. He knew that his own permanent status lay in the emir's hands. Yet as Chief Alkali, acting or otherwise, when called upon to make daily decisions, he was incapable of adjusting these decisions to suit his patron, the emir. One of his cases dealt with a favored servant of the emir, whose compound was within the palace, a thirty-thrce-acre network of buildings encircled by a wall twenty to thirty feet high. He had invited a mallam friend of his to share his household. Over the years, this mallam had made many additions and repairs, improving and remodeling the entire house. But he fell out of favor, and was summarily ejected by the emir's servant. The mallam felt he had been dealt with unfairly and appealed for justice. The emir referred the case to Yusufu's court, as was done traditionally in cases involving the emir. At the same time he let it clearly be known that he wished it to be dropped. Yusufu decided that the plaintiff had clearly developed equity in the household and either had to be permitted to return or be paid compensation forthwith. The battle over this case was further blown up when Aminu, the ciroma (the emir's favored son), and the rival royal family contending for the throne were drawn in. After the defendant was jailed for nonpayment, the emir himself angrily gave the full sum to the aggrieved mallam. Thus the already tenuous relationship was severely strained by Yusufu's decision in this and yet another instance, not quite so directly counterposed to the emir, but which distressed him nonetheless. During World War II, imports from Niger on Kano's northern border were prohibited. When a trader was caught by the Native Authority bringing in ten tons of salt, the cargo was confiscated and the merchant jailed by the emir's Native Authority police. Accord-

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ing to Yusufu's concept of the Islamic code of justice, this constituted double jeopardy. Either the salt should have been seized and impounded or the man should have been arrested, not both. He stoutly maintained, despite strong pressure to the contrary, that if another interpretation was to be forthcoming, it would not come from his Shari'a court, but that the case could be taken to the parallel system of magistrate's courts, administered by the British authorities. These two decisions just about shattered all possibility of any continuing cordial relationship between Aminu's father and the Emir of Kano. When the opportunity came, Emir Abdullahi passed Yusufu by on the basis of advanced age (he was in his sixties) and appointed someone else to the supposedly lifetime job of Chief Alkali—Bashir, son of Yusufu's elder sister. Thus by appointing a Genawa, he conformed to the letter of the traditional system, if not the spirit. When he turned to Yusufu at the installation ceremony and condescendingly said, "I hope that you, as the eldest member of the court, will remain to give guidance to our new and inexperienced chief alkali," Yusufu, consistent with his pattern of accepting his fate as God's Will, replied, "I cannot do otherwise, for you dignify me by choosing for this honored position a son of mine, whose mother suckled at the same breast as I." These events represented the apogee of Yusufu's productive life. He was given the honorary title of wakili (chief assistant), and continued to read, study, and teach, but the spark had left him. By 1945, his eyesight had begun to fail, and he wanted to retire, but at Aminu's insistence he traveled seven hundred miles to Lagos for the eye operation he needed. It was successful, and he ultimately returned to the Kano court, continuing there a few years longer until his retirement in 1948. Whether he ceased working because his hands were tied or to clear the way for his rebellious, ever-vocal son was not important. In keeping with his rigidly defined role in Hausa society, he was effectively put out to pasture for his remaining years, until his death in 1967. For Aminu, with his deep-rooted hatred of injustice, the rejection of his father as chief alkali had a profound effect. He regarded these judicial decisions as the end of his father's turn in an unending

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relay toward justice and the beginning of his own. H e was ready to seize the baton, and carry it at an accelerated pace. Although he personally doesn't consider these events as a turning point in his life, some investigators have seen it in that light. C. S. Whitaker in a significant article, "Three Perspectives on Hierarchy," 4 comparing the political lives of the three leading figures of northern politics* at the time, traces the roots of "the deep enmity between Aminu and the K a n o Native Authority" back to the months when Y u s u f u "acted" as Chief Alkali. Aminu's first literary attempt, the angry pamphlet entitled Kano Under the Hammer of Native Autocracy was written at this time. In it he struck out vigorously at the injustice he saw around him and at those who he felt were the perpetrators of this injustice. "Native Autocracy" was his term for the type of conniving, scheming rule of personal opportunism that prevailed. H e later realized that this was a heritage of the traditional hierarchical emirate system that existed throughout Hausaland and even predated the Fulani royal lineage. But at the time, the emir, his family, and cronies were the more obvious targets of Aminu's politically immature attack. Counterposed in his mind's eye to the internecine machinations of the royal court were the sparse in number, up-and-coming educated young people of the north. These were the worthy ones who deserved recognition and status, who would bring relief to the talakawa. Yet it was inconceivable that a democratically elected representative leadership could take over the reins of government. Rather he perceived that justice would come through a change in accession, to the descendants of Aliyu, the emir deposed by the British when they took over in 1903, and now a rival royal clan. " T h e emir rules . . . with despotic p o w e r . . . . Under Native Autocracy . . . cruelty and disregard of h u m a n life became m a n i f e s t . . . [ t h e y ] . . . think people exist for the emir, not . . . [vice versa]. T h e throne is ripe for the Aliyawa." 5 Because the disposessed descendants and relatives of Aliyu were educating themselves while they were the "outs," they would be the "good guys," if given the chance. H o w much the dispute between the emir and his father colored and inten•Northern Premier, Sardauna Ahmadu Bello; Federal Prime Minister Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, and Aminu Kano (prior to the first military coup).

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sified his indignation, it is hard to say, but active resistance to the society existing beyond school and immediate environs, apparently began at this time. The only leaders of any prominence in Kano that were spared from his biting criticism were the Ma'aji (treasurer) and the Alkali (judge), both somewhat removed from the seat of authority, but also incidentally relatives of young Aminu. Kano Under the Hammer of Native Autocracy is pertinent for Aminu's sullen, frustrated disaffection with the emirate system and his relationship to that system, rather than for the childish declamations and immature attacks on individuals. Thus, the student seemed to be stepping from one stone to the next, inexorably in one direction. Perhaps a stepping stone may have been slightly off to the left, but this was the general direction anyway, and didn't really represent a change in compass point. In addition to reinforcing a preestablished direction these events added a few nails to two of the four corners of the frame for his life's canvas; notably, his revulsion to injustice and a reinforcement of his social stance between the royalty and the talakawa whose cause he chose to champion. In the Western world, one's family relationships are an obvious and eminently meaningful part of one's life. They may be good, bad, or indifferent, but they are ever-present, and usually worn on the sleeve. If this applies at all to Hausa culture, it is perhaps buried in the individual's internal emotional make-up, for most overt behavior seems to deny the impact of the family. Interrelationships in the immediate family appear to be less personal, determined to a much greater extent by more rigid societal norms, than in Europe or North America. There is less room for individualism, initiative, and intrafamilial byplay. The woman's role is rather strictly defined. Her specific family tasks include child rearing and maintenance of the home but exclude the husband's or child's social life or its intellectual family planning. The girl ordinarily leaves the household to marry shortly after reaching puberty. Hence, at age thirteen or fourteen, she removes herself from parental guidance, though the process may be delayed by frequent and early divorce, at which time the girl returns to her parents' household until her next marriage. The boy child's fate is decided by his father, who uses social tradition

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as his guide, whether applied to vocation, or avocation, or educational plans. Thus there is little room for any direct influence of parent on child or of wife on husband. If Aminu's (or any HausaFulani's) life varied from this pattern and escaped from the accepted social limits, it is only to the extent that he has recognized the validity of applicable Western ideas. Although Aminu and his mother, as we have seen, were unusually close, her early death was not too shocking an experience for him, because the cultural norms permitted and even expected an early severing of the umbilical cord. Though he similarly respected and observed proper decorum toward his father and elder relatives, they did not really exert continuing control or influence over his life. Until he reached adulthood, he conformed to what society expected of him, not necessarily what his family wanted. It was under the combined impact of his Fulani-Mallam family background and the influence of Western culture that eventually Aminu's particular personality, goals, and capacities emerged as an explosive mixture quite different from that expected of him by society and by his family as part of that society. Through it all, however, the Hausa-Fulani societal modes rather than family emotional ties retained the strongest influence on his approach to his own life and that of his nation. H e continued to conform in most respects, rejecting only those patterns which he felt were undemocratic or which retarded modern social and economic development, the vehemence of his opposition changing with his mood or circumstance. This conformity-with-modifications applied to his marital relations and his attitudes toward the seven wives in his life (still a normal number for Hausa men and women). H e was more radicalized later during his teaching years in Bauchi, but back then in Kaduna ( 1 9 3 9 ) when he took his first wife Umma, he remained within the accepted social limits. Even so, he was not the choicest of bridegrooms for his father was not wealthy and though deriving from a learned family, Aminu himself was known as an unpredictable non-conformist. To avoid the long, complex ritual required when a man married a maiden, Aminu chose a divorced woman. H a d Umma not been married previously, there would have been seven days of celebration. The bride would have been taken to the home of a friend and smeared with henna (a red dye) for

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five days. On the fifth day, the groom would similarly go to the home of his best friend, where he would be hunted out by an old woman representing the bride. When she found him she would smear him with milk and make guda, a shrill, weird cry of discovery. Friends of the groom would spend the next two nights playing games of chance forbidden at other times, and the women would occupy themselves with Bori dancing and drumming. On the sixth night, the groom would be dressed up, friends would stuff small gifts of money in his pocket, and the bride would be brought to him with further celebration. On the final night, the groom and his friends would ride around the city until they reached the thousand-year-old baobab tree in Dalla where the groom would circle the tree several times, corresponding to the number of children he desired. The bride and her friends would also go to Dalla and rap on a piece of metallic stone representing the dowry and wealth of Fatima (the daughter of M o h a m m e d ) , in order that she follow in Fatima's footsteps. The men would then return to "buy the tongue" of the bride by placing money in front of her and trying to make her talk or laugh. When successful, they would leave and the marriage was consummated. Though Aminu avoided all this ritual by marrying a divorced woman, he did perform the minimum required of him by giving the proper number of kola nuts, calabashes of rice and millet, locust bean cakes, etc., to the bride's parents. They were royalty of sorts, and were greatly distressed by Aminu's open anti-royalty stance. Though the marriage did take place in Kano, they succeeded in having it dissolved while he was away at Kaduna College. Umma, however, resenting her parents' decision, took the only path of resistance open to her and ran away. Oftentimes a young girl in that position, lacking an alternative, would flee to another city to become a prostitute. But U m m a had a better solution. She ran to Kaduna where she was remarried to Aminu. Unfortunately for her, this was just prior to Aminu's return to Kano on holiday. When the young marrieds arrived, Umma's parents had the local alkali dissolve the marriage a second time. That was enough to discourage the career and education oriented Aminu, but young U m m a ran away once again, this time to Ghana. The entire relationship lasted less than

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one year and seemed to mean little in Aminu's life. It was his second wife, Hasia, who came closest to fulfilling the role of ideal wife envisioned by male Westerners at that time in history—monogamous, deeply attached to her husband, always struggling to keep up with his pace, dreams, and aspirations as well as his conception of her proper function in life. Since Aminu was only halfhearted about his first marriage, thinking that marital ties might hamper his ambitious educational plans, he did not rush to find a successor to Umma. However, Hasia's grandmother had a high regard for Aminu and his family. She approached Yusufu, his father, on Hasia's behalf, and the two of them put their heads together to come up with a sadaka wedding. In such an arrangement the groom's parents do not pay a bride price; instead, the bride's family, out of respect for the groom's learning or status, award him the bride as a gift. So, Aminu, away at school, was merely notified that all arrangements had been made and that he had a wife awaiting him back home in his father's compound. When he returned to Kano a month or two later, he brought gifts of cloth and dresses for his bride, picked her up, returned briefly to Kaduna, and then moved on to Bauchi, where he was posted to his first teaching assignment. Hasia's grandmother, born of royal parentage, had lived in Bauchi as a baby. When her father, leader of a royal clan, was defeated in battle, the nurse in charge fled to Katsina with the child. The family later moved to Kano where Hasia was born. Thus when Hasia and her kaka (grandmother) accompanied Aminu to Bauchi they were, in a sense, returning home, and were greatly surprised to find many long-lost relatives— brothers, sisters, aunts, and uncles. When they acknowledged that royal blood flowed through Hasia's veins, Aminu teased her, saying that "her majesty" was married to the greatest anti-royalist of them all. Although Aminu's mother and grandmother were literate in both Hausa and Arabic, they were extremely unusual Fulani women. Since he was unlikely to find such a well-educated spouse, Aminu became a powerful advocate of husbands' marrying their very young wives to teach them to read and write so they could help educate others. H e did this with Hasia particularly, and again, though to a lesser extent, with subsequent wives. Together they went through

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the Koran, the English version of the three R's, and Arabic modern hygiene. He taught her sanitation, hygiene and to accept modern changes; to look guests as well as her husband straight in the eye, to discuss her problems, and to eat with men. When eventually Hasia insisted upon divorce (for reasons to be explained later), Aminu persuaded the Emir of Katsina to give her a job in a maternity hospital. Without such independence, he felt that she would have been at the beck and call of any man she married, thus wasting her hard to achieve education. This precaution proved wise indeed, for although Hasia is now with her sixth husband, she has never had to depend on the largesse of any of them. She is still working effectively in the hospital and training and teaching others to do the same. She retains a great reservoir of good will toward Aminu and follows his career closely. With a wistful tear in the corner of her eye, she obviously regrets her unhappy intransigence. Even at that early age, to the extent that Aminu thought about marriage and divorce and his personal life, he put them in the context of his single purposed direction: to modernize and improve the living standards of his fellow countrymen. Though he had read Gandhi extensively and was greatly influenced by him, it is questionable whether Aminu's simple life, approaching the puritanic at times, could ever be considered self-abnegation. It seems more that the temptation of a life of hedonism—that aggrandizement, lush living, and sensual satisfactions have had little or no meaning for him as an alternative. Hasia speaks of him as one who warmly loves people, be they young or old, high- or lowborn. According to her, he always had a sympathetic ear for the many who came to him for help or money. Though he never objected to a pretty woman in his presence, he consistently avoided close personal attachments which might interfere with his polarized orientation toward his long-range goals. The last year of Aminu's schooling ( 1 9 4 2 ) was characterized by a shift from a strong personalized criticism of crippling, useless class stratification to a broadened sociopolitical mode of thinking. He was going from random criticism to attempts to find solutions in this his practice teaching year. It was in Zaria, during the latter five months of the school year, that he met Sa'adu Zungur, the man who

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was slated to become first his mentor and then his closest associate and political compatriot. During this year, too, his father Yusufu was denied appointment as Chief Alkali of Kano, and Aminu wrote his scathing Kano Under the Hammer. At the same time he began to use his cutting pen to write for the few existing newspapers and magazines in Nigeria, to spread his ideas as widely as possible. That was the year when he began to think in terms of organization and the year when his politicization started to crystallize.

The Man—The Teacher

Of the fourteen students who were graduated from Kaduna Secondary School in 1942 with higher school certificates, three were from Kano; Shehu Kazaure, Aliyu Gwarzo, and Aminu Kano. Only Aminu did not choose to return to Kano for a teaching assignment, in this way creating the first significant cleavage between himself and the Native Authority and laying himself open to charges of ingratitude. One can only hazard a guess as to why. Several researchers have suggested that his father's conflict with Emir Abdullahi Bayero and rejection as Chief Alkali, together with his bitter attacks on the emir, the ciroma (heir apparent), and the rest of the royal Bayero family, contributed to this decision. Aminu himself merely says he preferred to teach elsewhere, where things were happening. Probably all these reasons have some validity, but the sum total seems to point to the simple fact that Aminu Kano had bigger plans than were realizable in his home town. Traditionally one returned home upon completion of higher education to discharge one's obligations, but by this time he had decided that the solution to the North's problems had to be found outside the established limits of an autocratic emirate. If Aminu had returned to the domain of the Emir of Kano, he would have had to submit himself to the machinations and internal political struggles of the emir's court, and if he was a "good little boy" he might become Chief Alkali of Kano, a niche that had been preserved for him and his Genawa forebears over the generations. If he was not such a placid lamb, the best he could hope for was a minor official's position as librarian, court scribe, or some such post. Obviously, none of these alternatives would satisfy Aminu's drives. 71

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During his final year at Kaduna College, he divided his practice teaching between Zaria and Bauchi, which had become cultural centers for the slowly burgeoning corps of young educated elite. Among the men he encountered was Sa'adu Zungur, who was to influence Aminu's thinking profoundly and the two together were destined to affect the thoughts and actions of millions of other Nigerians. In 1941 Sa'adu was head of the School of Pharmacy in Zaria, training sanitary inspectors, while Aminu was practice teaching in the same city. It quickly became apparent to both that they saw eye to eye on many matters, a.id they became tight friends; soulmates. Sa'adu's home became Aminu's refuge after school hours, and their discussions there, the sounding board and jumping off point for Aminu's ideological and political development. Sa'adu was some years Aminu's senior and had formulated his ideas earlier. He had also had contact with the "outside world" while a student at Yaba Higher College (Lagos) in Southern Nigeria, where nationalist turbulence had already begun bubbling. His age and greater sophistication established something of a master-disciple relationship at the start, though as the years went by this was altered to that of the philosopher-ideologist counterposed to the activist. Aminu had of course come in contact with the ideas of Western ideologues of the French and American revolutions as well as those of Ali Jinnah and Gandhi in India, where the national independence struggle was considerably further along. Though these ideas helped mold his own in relation to Nigeria, he had never been in personal contact with any leaders of political thought. Sa'adu and Aminu had originally met in 1935 back home, while Sa'adu was visiting in Kano. Though Aminu was still a schoolboy, the magnetic qualities of this Islamic scholar had impressed him sufficiently to establish a sporadic continuing correspondence over the years—until they remet in Zaria and then again in Bauchi. Sa'adu's staunch defense of modernization, including the unprecedented step of wearing European dress, helped to channel Aminu's volatile adolescence into his first outlet for rebellion: social nonconformity and ridicule of royal pomposity. The presence of Sa'adu Zungur and other intellectuals in this triangular cultural nidus of Bauchi, Zaria, and Kaduna strongly influenced Aminu's choice of locale for his activities in the 40's. His

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attacks on the Kano local administration had cut him off from home base. During his five months of teacher training in Bauchi, this community had struck him as a likely locus for his educational activities. Since he had never regarded teaching as an end in itself, his reasons for entering the profession at this point were twofold; to earn a living and to gain access to the minds of northern youths so as to expound his pan-Nigerian plans to them and educate for modernization. It was clear at this early stage that his sociopolitical orientation would dominate his activities; all else in his life would be relegated to a subordinate role. The time had not yet arrived when he could ignore the need to support himself, but its secondary status was evident even then. He had met the teaching staff at Bauchi Middle School when he had been assigned there for training. Among them were such men of stature as Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, ultimately Prime Minister of Nigeria, and Yahaya Gusau, future member of the Federal Cabinet (Commissioner of Economic Development). Sa'adu Zungur, stricken with a lung disorder, had returned to his native Bauchi to recuperate. These men, and others resident in the area, were to provide a nucleus for the formation and spread of the first northern organization of any kind, outside the native administrations. When Aminu moved to Bauchi to start working as junior teacher in Bauchi Middle School, he and his wife Hasia were assigned a mud hut with a thatched roof that had been set aside for him as a junior staff member. Parenthetically, this hut had been used prior to Aminu's arrival, by a Mallam Ilm, who had been appointed Chief Alkali of Bauchi. He had reported that the house was infested with jinns and as a result the one room without a thatched roof could not be occupied. Aminu and Hasia did live in all the rooms, and somehow never encountered any other occupants, supernatural or otherwise. Perhaps the three windows Aminu had built into this particular room may have helped the jinns to escape. H e had been imbued with all the vigorous ideas of a student fresh out of school regarding the world of education, politics, and social revolution. It was peculiar to the North, at this juncture in history, that the brunt of its nationalist fervor was to be directed not so much at the colonial overlords as at the feudal organization of their own .society. Only secondarily were objections raised to the British

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practice of propping up and perpetuating this archaic governmental structure through Lord Lugard's inviolate, not-to-be-questioned "indirect rule." In the southern half of Nigeria, the indigenous governments had lent themselves much more readily to the modernization process, so that nationalism was turned directly against the colonial power. This difference was partly due to Lugard's unfortunate pledge not to interfere with the northern emirate structure in any of its complex ramifications, including education and religion. Christian missionaries who penetrated the south had been prevented from doing so in the north, for there Islam was dominant and interwoven with the state apparatus. Keeping the European religious proselytizers out meant keeping modern forms of education out as well, for missionary schools brought with them the three R's, English, and training for the modern professions. This was the time of the birth of northern nationalist thought, and Aminu consciously set himself up on the outer limits of the nationalist circle, where he could gain maximum speed when rolling. Others who were to join him in the struggle were to distribute themselves closer to the center of the circle, so that, when set in motion, its centrifugal force would not spin them off into indeterminate space. In 1950, when Aminu withdrew from teaching in favor of total politics, he put it thus: "I have seen the light on the far horizon and I intend to march into its full circle, either alone or with anyone who cares to go with me." 1 The Islamic schools were set up principally to teach only those skills necessary to the proper knowledge and understanding of the Koran and its Islamic law. The emirs were reluctant to educate their constituents or even their own families for fear of establishing social criteria outside the traditional ones of birth and divine right. Aminu, in one of his early works ( 1 9 4 1 ) ,2 accused the Emir of Kano of creating all kinds of barriers for the existing elementary school in Kano. He objected strongly, for example, when the emir set up a school for the members of his royal family—not out of an interest in spreading education, but out of a desire to separate the royal offspring from all other children. In 1942, when Aminu and Hasia arrived in Bauchi, there was only one secondary school in all Northern Nigeria and a mere handful of middle schools (4 years elementary were followed by three years

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of middle school, thus essentially still elementary e d u c a t i o n ) . Standards were such that if a person could q u o t e a line of A r a b i c f r o m one of the Islamic commentaries, he was considerably more impressive a n d convincing than if he attempted to use reason and modern logic. T o change this educational pattern required a herculean effort, unlimited stamina, and c o u r a g e — A m i n u ' s strongest traits, as most of his opponents have testified. T h e problem for him was how to be most effective in achieving his goals, not whether he could "stand the gaff." In the Bauchi Middle School he rapidly m a d e a niche for himself, upsetting the balancc of some of its longer term inhabitants in the process, but it was in his after-school activities that he m a d e an immediate impact. A m i n u believed that one should be p r o u d to marry a young unschooled girl and, while so doing, raise her educational level. Hasia h a d begun her studies prior to their arrival in Bauchi, and he continued her education as private tutor. She learned to read and write English and H a u s a , and in turn, willingly taught the o t h e r women a r o u n d her all she knew. A m i n u was m o n o g a m o u s and pledged to remain that way in order to be able to give the time for continuing her education. It was his personal contribution to social modernization, for he felt that the polygamous habits of his fellows degraded the w o m e n involved, perpetuating their lack of social status a n d education. Classical Islamic law permits a m a n u p to f o u r wives, not because of sex or physical attraction, but because a community's h o n o r must be protected by assuring a h o m e to bereft women. F o r example, if a m a n has a close friend w h o passes away a n d leaves an u n m a r r i e d daughter or a young wife, that m a n might feel obliged to m a r r y her. In addition, each of the wives h a d to be treated with equal consideration. His ardent advocacy of m o n o g a m y in these early years reflected a balance between his radicalization on the one h a n d and the influence of his traditions on the other. B u t in his personal and political life he did rationalize t h e degree of militancy to fit his needs of the m o m e n t ; for example, though he ordinarily permitted his wife to wear her shoes in the house, on at least one occasion, after a domestic quarrel, he temporarily withdrew the privilege. Nevertheless, in spite of such m i n o r aberrations, he continued to push f o r greater social equality; in this he was consistent.

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When he first arrived in Bauchi, he greatly revered the formal education he had just completed, and the modern world it revealed. He wanted to spread it far and wide in all its aspects, teaching youngsters, politicalizing the adults and liberalizing human relationships. Part of this elevating and liberating process was a break with the old tradition of purdah, wherein the wife was hidden from public view except under the most extraordinary circumstances. His insistence on Hasia's exposure was the first obvious stir created by their presence in Bauchi. On festival evenings, Aminu would deliberately take her out to visit friends, to view the fireworks, or just to stroll through the wide dirt streets, thus shattering all precedent. It was the first time Bauchi had witnessed such flagrant disregard for tradition. The British government representative, the Resident, was shocked and consulted the emir about Aminu's behavior. The emir indicated that as far as he was concerned Aminu was a mallam and a son of mallams, with very learned antecedents, and surely knew what he was about. The Resident, thinking the matter too serious to rest there, sent a report to the administrative center in Kaduna. It was returned via Aminu's Senior Education Officer, who put him on the carpet and asked, "Isn't this against Moslem law and custom?" Aminu answered, "Most certainly not. Is it not true that in many Moslem countries the women move about freely in the streets? When the Koran speaks of male and female Moslems, is it not granting them equality? Did you know, sir, that from as far back as Emir Mohammed Rumfa in the fifteenth century, right on up to 1930, there was a woman minister in Kano whose office was in the public marketplace?" The issue was never resolved to the satisfaction of the Resident, and Aminu continued his shocking behavior, taking his cooperative wife out unmolested. He never told her about these difficulties, for he felt that might have frightened her. Abubakar Imam, currently head of the Federal Government Statutory Corporation and a man of some note in Nigeria's intellectual circles, reminisced with amusement about a visit he and his wife had with Aminu Kano in the early 1940's. He was doing some research for a few days in the Bauchi area, during which time he left his wife in the women's quarters with Hasia. When he returned, he was startled by the vivid and excited picture his wife painted of Bauchi's shops; the palace with its high mud wall and large vaulted rooms

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painted in bright white; the mosque and the market; the public buildings and private compounds, all in the classic red clay; the bicycles and horses on the wide unpaved streets. When asked how she knew all these things, she demurely responded that they had all visited the town. H a d the relatively conservative Abubakar Imam been consulted, he never would have permitted his wife this daring exploit. After the fact, however, what could he do? Aminu goodhumoredly shrugged his shoulders and said with a smile on his face, "How could I have done otherwise with such a gracious guest to entertain? Circumstances have willed it." Several years later, while studying at London University, Aminu set down his ideas on "The Problem of Girls' Education in Kano" in a term paper. He urged universal public education, for both sexes, including high- and lowborn. His was a practical approach, not exactly conforming to that of the current movement for women's liberation, but one that he felt could work in contemporary Hausa society; one that taught women how to function in their own environment. A simple, basic knowledge of domestic science, infant care, personal and social sanitation, even the why and how to use a latrine would help to combat the initial problems of ignorance, apathy, and fatalism. As he saw it, the populace, long tolerant of autocratic rule, could easily accept such quickly attainable goals as compulsory education, a required Islamic marriage register, and a legal prohibition of child marriages. Aminu called for a Department of Public Enlightenment which would put pressure on the educated clerk or administrator to teach his wife, sister, or female relative to read and write. He insisted that enlightenment must penetrate into the purdah circle. The lifeless, arbitrary, static, bookish type of information taught in the Koranic schools merely made mentally stultified children and passive adolescents and adults. He asks, "How many creative people has Kano produced in its schools?" The women produced by this lopsided system were ignorant and full of superstition; they accepted infant mortality fatalistically; in illness, they resorted to medicine men, witches, and prayer. He believed that the education of women should not be restricted to the classroom. It should be all-encompassing, ranging from the propaganda apparatus of radio, libraries, cinema, etc., to the forma-

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tion of clubs for continuing studies after graduation, for "mothers are the teachers of tomorrow." He insisted that reforms need not be gradual, that what was necessary was an internal revolution in philosophy and psychology to release the people from their political shackles. His approach was prophetic too, since he felt that social psychology was even more important than developing the economy. Giving people more money to spend during World War II, without educating them toward self-betterment, had merely endowed them with the ability to support more wives, buy more clothes, and have more elaborate ceremonies. (Are not today's sociologists in our consumer-oriented economy pleading for a social orientation and an upgrading of spiritual and moral values?) Aminu, the radical but practical politician, never permitted his ideas to separate him from the immediate needs of the people. Whether or not he kept his shoes on when he was expected to remove them, both feet inevitably remained firmly planted on Hausa soil. At Bauchi, Aminu took his role as teacher seriously, interpreting it as encompassing the total training of his charges, both during and after school hours. He rapidly established himself as a sort of ferryman on the River Styx, bridging the chasm between pupil and teacher—to the delight of the boys and to the consternation of the faculty, whose training inclined them to keep that gap wide and deep. Most of the boys came from royal and aristocratic families. In Hausa-Fulani society, those with royal blood ties were sarakuna, an inherited status which ranged from ruler or emir to honorary titles and high positions in administration, regardless of merit. Though titles and position were not inherited in Hausa-Fulani culture, status appointments were made from among those born with sarauta, making them eligible for certain traditional titles—this in contrast to shigege, an achieved status and the next step down the ladder. Then there were the commoners themselves, from whom those with shigege were chosen. These could be further subdivided into freemen and former slaves, and the latter into cucanawa, many of whom had extensive power delegated to them by the emirs, and bayi (slaves who could be bought and sold). Though slavery had been abolished by the British at the turn of the century, the social stratification had carried over and evolved into dependency and

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patronage relationships with their former masters. Vocations are to this day still determined to a great degree by social status, with most of the former bayi (no longer identified as such), as butchers or musicians, usually at the bottom of the social structure. But at this stage the majority of these Western educated boys regarded the modern world of the European-style schools as superseding their sarauta in importance. In some instances, this was translated into an odd influence on their fathers as well. The Emir of Katagum, noting the Katagum boys' admiration for Aminu, including the son of his Waziri (vizier or prime minister), offered him one of his many relatives as a wife, in order to establish a blood tie. The marriage actually lasted only a month or so, for Aminu reports that the girl turned out to be very disturbed and hence was shipped back to her point of origin—another unprecedented act. The students flocked to Aminu's house after hours, where they would discuss extracurricular matters well beyond the daily curriculum. They were joined by students from Bauchi Teachers' Training College and others on Friday and Sunday, their two days off, at sessions serving as a sort of lesson for the boys. They all came with questions or ideas to develop and talked into the wee hours of the morning, discussing the future development of education, how to bring about change, or how to improve existing practices. As they spoke, they projected dreams of what the future would bring. To this day, Aminu is still highly regarded as a teacher and as a moral and ethical guide for youth. When he was at home,be itKano or Lagos, the young, including many of his former students and political adversaries, congregated in a wide circle of easy chairs in his always-open living room to partake of the dialogue, ask advice or guidance, or just to sit and listen to the little man with the round head and short turtle-like neck, seated alone on the central sofa, with a foot tucked under him picking at his broad feet, nose or ears . . . They stayed far into the night and freely shared his bed and board when the occasion arose. One state commissioner, a former leader of NPC, has said, " H e is my father, teacher, and leader." 3 In those Bauchi days, Aminu pulled no punches. He spoke uninhibitedly about the behavior of other boys throughout the world. He used original materials from Western sources, or directed Abubakar Imam's plays and stories, to involve the students in dramas

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directed and slanted to ridicule old canards and traditions and illiterate top administrators. Scout troops were organized by him in his role as Bauchi commissioner of scouts; similarly, a debating society to teach public presentation of issues was formed, dealing with all kinds of controversial questions. His innovative approach to the teaching of English included the use of a long, original thousand-line poem or song entitled "Song of the Changing Times." By design, it encouraged progress, calling for institutional changes and the abandonment of archaic customs, such as elaborate modes of dress (with turbans which he likened to bandages for a broken head) and too many horses and wives. It advocated the elimination of superstition; the strengthening of the family unit by giving women greater freedom and better education, with an accompanying clamp down on free and easy divorce; and preservation of, and pride in, the art, history, poets, mallams, and heroes who represented the true democratic and moral traditions of their ancestors. The song was popular with the students who memorized it and sang it in the classroom and the streets, to the chagrin of the ruling traditionalists. Twenty-five years later, two members of the foreign service, former students of Aminu, were still able to recite the lines and chuckle in reminiscence, even though the poem was never formally published. Aminu would set up a stool in front of the class and ask each student in turn to mount it and orate, with gestures and meaningful content. A small stick in his hand, referred to as a "persuader," aided the process. Aminu was an indefatigible instigator of any activity that made for original thought, that taught people to speak up, to question, to act independently. He was able to apply relatively high standards and evoke a severe discipline from the boys, who followed him admiringly and would perform at these high levels out of love and respect. His youth brought him particularly close to the senior boys, his radicalism was a quality appreciated by students of all ages. Though all this made Aminu a heroic focus for the student body, the faculty and administrative staff were far from happy with him. They interpreted his ideas as disruptive. How could this display of independence be controlled? Traditional homage to men of stature no longer could be assumed or imposed; the students were learning to be skeptical and rebellious. Everything the teachers said or did

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had to be justified. They were imitating Aminu. At one point, the staff members complained to the education officer that Aminu was too friendly with the students and was usurping all the positions of leadership in the school—only to be told, "Why don't you take the initiative out of his hands? If you do the organizing, they'll follow you instead." They tried it with some degree of success, and despite their refusal to dress in shorts and perform calisthenics with the boys, they were gradually able to assume the leadership in physical training and games. Even the leadership of the literary society Aminu had organized was taken from him, leaving him only the scoutmaster job. The education officer had called the staff together upon Aminu's arrival to bid him welcome. Although he didn't remove his shoes, Aminu did conform to the extent of sitting on the floor with the other teachers. In introducing him to the others, the E. O. said, "Here we have a little lamb. Watch him carefully to see that his horns don't grow too long!" The staff certainly was doing that. However, in the very process of trying to reduce his influence they were being pushed in the direction he wanted them to go. The older men on the staff, who were trained at Katsina College before it moved and became Kaduna College, tended to be more conservative than those of Kaduna. Although the alumni of both colleges all professed to be advocates of modernization, they differed in their notions of how long it would take to attain their common goals. At that time this did not seem an insurmountable difference. In subsequent years, however, rifts widened between them, varying with the degree to which each was ready to challenge the native administration and the extent to which traditional methods could be incorporated in modern governmental structures. The headmaster, one M. Baraya from Gombe, was evidently a conformist, even to the extent of incorporating the evils and excesses of early British school administration. Under him as senior teacher was Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, a quiet-spoken advocate of mild and gradual reform whose sincere attempts to moderate the two extremes over the decades gained him great respect from all sides. Warring forces found it expeditious to make use of his competence, intelligence, and imperturbability in determining a middle way. These traits unfortunately also proved to be his undoing, but back in these school years, he was thoroughly respected by staff and stu-

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dents, albeit in an aloof way. Yahaya Gusau was the science teacher, followed by Aminu, the junior teacher. Coincidentally, these four of a total of nine teachers eventually placed in this same order on the political spectrum. The fascinating relationship between these two outstanding northerners, Abubakar and Aminu, began at Bauchi Middle School and spanned two and a half decades of political in-fighting. Abubaker came of a slave lineage in Bauchi Province, and owed his advanced educational status to a quirk in the relationship between the emirs and the British overlords. The emirs at times would send lowly representatives to the British school in order to placate the British and shield their own royal sons from its insidious influences at the same time. Several outstanding Northern Nigerians owe their education to this unusual development, including its most outstanding product, Abubakar. As a lucky, lowly, yet worthy representative of the status quo, he did not feel impelled to challenge its totality. Modern Western education taught him the need for change and updating, but in his mind's eye he saw an integration of the old and the new— a stance which permitted him to question and to try reform on the fringe but never go beyond the pale. This even when much later, in the Northern House of Assembly, the Sultan of Sokoto in response to Abubakar's famous defense of reforms, was to say, "This is what happens when you let loose your servants! This is our reward!" He was the first plebian non "sarauta" member of the Emir of Bauchi's Council, and wasn't likely to jeopardize his "shigege," or acquired status. Aminu on the other hand, deriving from a patrician yet powerless lineage, turned his Western education into a direct sharp challenge to the entire society: "power to the people" and strip the emirs of their aristocratic heritage. The personalities of both men fitted them for their chosen roles — o n e a moderate, the other a radical. Yet they found a great community of interest and developed a warm relationship of mutual respect and trust, though they were almost always on different sides of the fence. Their essential goals were the same, but they had radically different approaches to the manner and tempo by which these could best be achieved. When Aminu and his fellow student-teachers came to Bauchi in 1941, Abubakar welcomed them, invited them to

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his home, and conducted active discussions, an approach quite advanced for those years. Aminu, less inhibited than the others, struck up an active friendship with him. True, Abubakar was among those staff members who complained to the education officer about Aminu's activities and usually defended the British or N.A. position. Yet he always maintained a hearty respect for his ebullient junior. He was half-amused, half-tolerant of his doings, and continued to regard Aminu as a true friend of the North. In the relationship, there was perhaps a hint of a father's attitude toward a son who had learned his lesson too well and applied the morality of his parents a bit more militantly than they would have liked. When he would later goodhumoredly refer to Aminu as "Molotov," implicit in this humorous reference to his political stance were respect, admiration for Aminu's courage, and a warmth dating back to their friendship and struggles during their teaching years. The students found Aminu the teacher unique and eminently approachable. His home was always open for them to break bread, congregate, or just talk and argue—an unprecedented attitude. Up to that point, no teacher had ever been available after hours, and here was an authority figure who mingled with them as though he was one of them, stimulating them to ask questions and answering them straightforwardly, with respect for the questioner. He was constantly sparking their internal struggles for self-identity in this key period in their lives, whether in school, in his home, or on one of their scouting expeditions. His associations with them were so close that when an occasion arose to take social action, they did not have to consult him. They knew he would support what they considered a just struggle. When one day they complained bitterly to the headmaster that many of them had never been issued uniforms or blankets, that pocket money had been withheld, the food meager and hardly edible, they were sure of the support of at least one member of the teaching staff. At four A.M. the following morning, the entire student body went, on strike—five classes, with approximately thirty students in each. According to the best information available, only one student remained behind. He was the head boy, an appointed student leader (by coincidence Abubakar Tafawa Balewa's younger brother) who had been requested by the others to stay ai school as a spokesman. The

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senior boys (among them Sule Katagum, present head of the Federal Public Service Commission) led the pack on a march down the road toward Maiduguri, with several teachers and the Emir of Bauchi in hot pursuit. They caught up with the students about nine miles out of town, where Abubakar and the emir tried to dissuade them from their militant actions. The only response was a shout, "We want Aminu!" When Aminu arrived at last, accompanied by Yahaya Gusau, he reassured them that their complaints would get proper airing and that they had best return to their dormitories. When they followed his advice, he was understandably accused of having instigated the walkout in the first place. The furor aroused by the event became academic, however, when an investigation by the education officer revealed the validity of the students' claims and the headmaster was removed. Each staff member moved up a notch. Tafawa Balewa became headmaster and righted the pre-existing wrongs, though still remaining the mild reformer and reluctant defender of the status quo. Aminu continued his active proselytizing for rapid change, in the debating society, the drama society, the science society, and the boy scouts, all directed toward stirring the pot of national awakening a la Aminu Kano. While all this activity was going on at school, Aminu was not exactly permitting the rest of the world to pass him by. Sa'adu Zungur had become ill and returned from Zaria to convalesce at his family home in Bauchi. Sa'adu remained bedridden, weak and feverish with his lung disease (probably tuberculosis though no one seems to specifically identify it as such). The two men renewed their earlier friendship, with Aminu at Sa'adu's bedside daily, for long discussions about the fate of their country Nigeria, and their first love, the north. They talked far into the night though the area was infested with hyenas and Aminu had to walk home afterward. Sa'adu spent his remaining years in and out of bed, never really able to function fully for any extended period. His physical incapacity did not in any way slow his thinking processes, which had taken a radical turn in northern Nigerian terms, dating back to his year at Yaba Higher College in southern Nigeria, where the intellectual ground rules were for a different league. The Zaria Friendly Society, his first attempt to raise the north out of its centuries-old intellectual slumber, was initiated in 1941

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while he was still teaching at the School of Pharmacy in Zaria, then a center of the educated elite of the North. Other intellectuals in the area, including men like Abubakar Imam and Nuhi Bamali (Federal Foreign Minister in the 1960's), were willing enough to consider mild reform in a tangential way but reared back when Sa'adu attempted to use the organization as a forum for attacking the North's system of local administration and the "indirect rule" of the British which buttressed it. Aminu Kano, still a student at Kaduna College, was then practice teaching in Zaria Middle School. He spent much of his time with Sa'adu but because of his junior status the relationship was that of the teacher and his disciple. The Friendly Society became moribund when Sa'adu was politically isolated and frequenty hospitalized. Aminu divides his life into three stages. The first ended at the point when he met Sa'adu Zungur. He had not yet projected himself into the social and political spheres, beyond his studies, his students, and his immediate environment. In Sa'adu Zungur he found an inspiration for his ideas and their implementation. When Sa'adu was stricken ill and returned to Bauchi, they both flowered in each other's presence. Aminu began to express his ideas in letters and articles to newspapers and magazines, including the first Hausa-language newspaper, Gaskiya Ta Fi Kwabo (Truth Is Worth More Than a Penny) and the West African Pilot, published in southern Nigeria by N. Azikiwe, the first President of Nigeria. Men like Yerima Balla, former Secretary General of N E P U and now a commissioner in the North Eastern State, read his articles from as far away as India, where he was serving in the British army, and started a correspondence. Aminu began organizing and thinking on a region-wide basis, consulting and planning with Sa'adu. The interdependency between them shifted subtly and gradually to that of equals—the one the ailing strategist and eventually an elder statesman; the other, an activist-tactician. Under the sharp pens of this duo the educated youth of the North began to stir. Sa'adu seemed to develop an attitude of leaving ideas for Aminu to apply, perhaps suggesting a course of action or drawing Aminu's attention to a particular tactic. They played back and forth, often agreeing, often disagreeing. He had discovered in Aminu a kindred spirit, and learned to lean heavily on him. Sa'adu wrote equally

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fluently and frequently in English, Arabic, and Hausa, persistently attacking colonialism, indirect rule, and Lord Lugard (the British administrator credited with conceiving and applying this notorious system), exposing its fallacies wherever possible. Illness limited his activities but not literary efforts which continued apace. He is generally considered the first northerner to think of, and agitate for, panNigerian and pan-African unity. He abhorred those traditions and customs that stifled the people, warning continuosly that lack of modernization and education would permit the southern half of Nigeria to dominate the North and to eliminate all that it cherished. According to Aminu, the second stage in his life ended and the third began when lie left teaching in 1950 to enter the political arena full time to range through the whole of the North, with Kano once again his home base. In a sense, subdividing his life in this way testifies to the role Sa'adu played in helping to mold his thinking. He served as an alter ego, one to whom Aminu could continue to turn to for strength again and again when venturing into unchartered waters. Together they lit the fires of nationalism, democracy and anticolonialism. Aminu fueled the fires, trying to build them up to a conflagration, while Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, Abubakar Imam, and many others tamped them down to smoldering embers. One of the first logs thrown on the small blaze was the Bauchi General Improvement Union formed in 1943. Men like Abubakar Tafawa Balewa and Yahaya Gusau steered clear of its emphasis on rapid, thoroughgoing change and reform, but Aminu's vitality and boundless energy was an added ingredient that made for a degree of success. He and Sa'adu wrote letters and articles to any publications that would print their denunciations of the British "directed labor" policy, in their eyes merely another form of conscription. Great Britain, fighting for its life in World War II, needed people to grow large quantities of food crops, such as corn, and needed tin miners as well as soldiers. So pressure was put on the Native Authorities to "direct" prescribed quotas of food and men to each category, though Nigerians in general felt the effects of World War II only peripherally. The union members discussed modernization and attacked the "indirect rule" that stifled it. In the process, they attracted about twenty or so to each of their meetings, but their principal effect was to stir the British rulers to action. The senior political officer, a Mr.

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Knott, read an inflammatory unsigned article in the West African Pilot, attacking the British method of inducting Nigerians into their army. When he asked at the Bauchi General Improvement Union about its source, Aminu readily admitted his role as author. Thereupon Mr. Knott, thinking to contain these eruptions, suggested a new organization, officially sponsored, which could be used as a forum for debating any and all ideas. Since the Union had become so vocal, there would be an opportunity for the British to use it as an escape valve. The weekly forum which grew out of this suggestion became well known as the Bauchi Discussion Circle. It attracted a broad membership including department heads, administrators, merchants, and teachers. They held debates on economic development, democracy, medicine, war, and religion. Aminu was selected as secretary, with a Mr. Ibiam, a medical dispenser, as his assistant. The moderates joined this time, since the Circle had official government blessing, swelling the number of participants to well over one hundred per meeting. But with Aminu more or less in the driver's seat, sending out the invitations and choosing the topics for discussion, it didn't take long for the organization to run into controversial terrain. Since the meetings were organized either for formal debates, followed by voting, or merely for questions, answers, and discussion, it was not surprising to see debates on such resolutions as "Resolved: That indirect rule is the best form of government for Northern Nigeria" or "Resolved: That the newspaper Gaskiya Ta Fi Kwabo should be removed from government control, as its present form constitutes a brake on the wheels of progress." Nor was it surprising to see Aminu and Sa'adu taking the extreme positions, with Abubakar Tafawa Balewa or other moderates defending the British role. In the debate on the freedom of the press, when Aminu and Sa'adu showed that, on the one hand, the British suppressed and privately condemned the only voice independent of the emirs and that, on the other, they publicly urged independent initiative and thought, the contradictions of the British position became apparent. In the debate on indirect rule, Abubakar timidly defended the dual system, basing his defense on the need for order and a secure foundation from which to launch the desired reforms. Aminu attacked the system head-on. H e pointed out that the British had stepped in just as

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the people were beginning to throw off the tyrannical yoke of Fulani rule and asked, "[though] the so-called system of indirect rule was in the first place a purely military necessity, a plan to extend the influence of an ambitious power and to win the confidence of the oppressed population—may it not rightly be said to have outlived the purposes for which it was originally intended?" 4 H e also pointed out that the regimes existing in 1900, at the time of the British takeover, were autocratic in nature and essentially un-Islamic, despite their assertions to the contrary. Both Mohammed, the Holy Prophet, and Usman Dan Fodio, the founder of the Fulani empire, strongly indicated that succession of rulers should be chosen by the people on the basis of worth, not birth; and therefore the prevailing system at the turn of the century was not at all the traditional system the British made it out to be. The early caliphs were supposed to be chosen by and responsible to the governed. The day of this particular debate was one of the many when the ailing Sa'adu was restricted to bed. When he could not prevail upon his cohorts to carry him to the meeting in a bicycle basket, Aminu substituted for him. However, after Abubakar's stance was reported to him, he gave Aminu a scathing letter to be read at a subsequent meeting, bolstering Aminu's arguments with a few additional ones of his own. He politely but caustically begged Abubakar to reconsider his ill-conceived defense of indirect rule, directing his vitriolic charges against the "ignorance and evil motivation of the paramount leaders and their advisers" and the "indifference of the political and administrative officers" in charge, which "brings advantages to the rulers of the dual system and exhausts the ruled." His pen sharpened further with, "The selection of its [the Native Authority's] gutter elite is being made neither on the basis of intelligence nor capacity, but simply by denial of the decent citizen's outlook. Members of the ruling minority have the readiness of desperadoes to gamble, with nothing to lose but everything to gain." 5 Senior Political Officer Knott was not very enthusistic about the role these two muckrakers were playing, but not until he and his Emir of Bauchi were put on the spot, in one of the question-andanswer sessions, did he give up the ghost. With the emir presiding, the barbed question, "What determines an emir's salary?" was put

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to the chair by Aminu. Mr. Knott stumbled through the obvious answer—the extent of his duties and the weight of his responsibilities. When Aminu retorted, "Why, then, is the Emir of Bauchi's salary less than that of the Emir of Adamawa, whose constituency and subsequent responsibilities, as well as traditional status, are so much the lesser?" As chairman, the Emir of Bauchi was not at all displeased by this discussion, but the meeting ended at that point, somewhat abruptly. Soon afterward, Mr. Knott announced the dissolution of the first officially sponsored organization in the North, explaining that the meetings were just "getting off the rail." It had lasted less than a year. The abandonment of the Bauchi Discussion Circle did not stop the spate of "social organizations." "discussion circles," and "youth" or "friendly" societies that then began to spring up throughout the North. There was the Sokoto Youths' Social Circle, the Zaria Youths' Association (to replace the original Zaria Friendly Society), the Kano Youths' Association, the Northern Elements Progressive Association (NEPA) in Kano, and so on. Wherever education had crept in, the educated young were organizing some form of discussion group outside the Native Authority apparatus. In order to bring Northern Nigeria out of the past and into the present, a break in the previous forms had to occur. The emirs and their emissaries saw clearly what this could mean to their ancient structure and fought it all the way along the line. At first, any organization of any kind was banned. Then the British recognized the need for some kind of accommodation to the shrinking of the modern world and tried to siphon off the growing nationalist needs by channeling them into discussion societies. But there was no mistaking the growing political undercurrent in each of these. The more enlightened of the administrators considered their function as a rearguard or delaying action, in order to hold the reins as long as possible, to steer this upsurge into more amenable paths. In this way the internal struggle became one of extent and pace. Aminu and his ailing ideological partner led the pack in both, pushing for "far and fast." Undaunted by the dissolution of the Bauchi Discussion Circle, they tried another one, this time called the Bauchi Community Center. It was actually another form of the earlier Improvement Union, with a mild name and an innocuous goal: com-

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munity improvement. But of course it too was basically a political organization. For the first organizing meeting, with no other place to meet, about twenty charter members gathered in the Native Authority Library, directly across from the emir's palace. They just started their discussions when suddenly they saw Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, often unwilling but ever the emissary of authority (British or emir), approaching with an N.A. policeman at his side. When he arrived, he announced quietly and perhaps a little sheepishly, "As a member of the emir's council, I am hereby requested by the emir to inform you that you are to disband, as all unions (organizations) are forbidden." The assembled members looked at one another perplexed, not knowing what to do. Then Sa'adu spoke up, "Tell me, sir, are you a messenger carrying information, or are you the executor of the order as well?" When Abubakar answered that he was merely delivering the message, Sa'adu continued, "In that case, we ask you to deliver our reply to the emir, that we will not disband." After Abubakar and his escort retired, the assembled discussed their next step, deciding that Aminu, as secretary, was to send a letter to the senior political officer, the resident, telling him what had transpired, demanding that the oft-reiterated right of freedom of assembly and association be implemented, and stating that the Emir of Bauchi was trespassing on their rights. Three days later, while Aminu was teaching a class, his headmaster—by coincidence, Mallam Abubakar—entered his classroom to inform him that the emir wanted to see him as soon as school was out. As he turned his bicycle toward the palace gates, he noted that the other members of the Community Center were also converging. The emir greeted them formally from his mahogany thronelike chair upholstered in red velvet, the only piece of furniture in the spacious room. The carpeted floor merged with the severe while walls, which rose into a high, vaulted ceiling, setting the tone for the meeting. They seated themselves on the floor in a semicircle, facing the emir, the traditionally lower stance for social inferiors. "You apparently misunderstood my message," he began. "At no time did I say you couldn't hold meetings. Only the Native Authority Library typewriters and facilities, and of course the time from work is denied to you, nothing else. If you meet in your own time and place, you can function."

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At that point, Abubakar, in the presence of all, complained that the message he had delivered had accurately represented the emir's directions. Sa'adu was quite ready to push the contradiction and catch the emir in a lie, but cooler voices prevailed and the modified edict was accepted. So they filed out to a nearby place in the sun, to consider possible meeting places. The N.A. offices, the market place or stalls, were all official and therefore eliminated, but one elderly gentleman, Mallam Waziri, said he had a big enough hall, but it had no roof. "If you roof it yourselves, you can use it." They emptied their pockets, collecting enough to cover the cost of the roof, and eventually thatched it with grass of sorts, plastered the interior, put a lamp, table, and chairs inside, and a sign reading, "Bauchi Community Center" outside. Thus emerged the first private meeting hall in Northern Nigeria. These organizational endeavors represented Aminu's avenue for contact with the small but growing group of forward-looking persons emerging from the rigid, stagnant society which prevailed. The student community at the school absorbed another significant portion of his energies. But the third and by far the largest group with which he maintained close relations, was that of the uneducated talakawa, the local administrators, and members of the trading community, who by and large were continuing to stick close to the ways of their ancestors. The subtleties of formal debates or of scientific and academic investigation were not for them. The small gaps in their dayto-day routines of hard work and rest were filled with superstitious rites and the most threadbare of pleasures. On one occasion, when Aminu was passing through Jos, a mountainside resort and commercial center, he decided to relax by spending a night or two with friends there. H e and several acquaintances were wandering through the streets in the market area when they came upon and joined a group of several hundred people gathered around an itinerant mallam. He was inveighing against sinners generally, telling the assemblage to beware, for if he prayed against a soul, it was doomed; that it is written that anyone who takes a journey on a particular day would go to jail; and so on. Young Aminu, whose patience with this sort of thing was short, shouted loudly, "From what book do you quote? Where do you get that information?"

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The crowd and the mallam were stunned at this impudence. After a few moments of silence, the preacher recovered enough to go on. This time he started with, " O u r book tells of how the preaching of our prophets will be disturbed by a living devil, a Christian missionary who had become learned in the Koran . . ." "What chapter? What verse? Where is your book?" When the mallam mumbled a title and sent a child to get the book to check, Aminu responded, "Don't bother!" and proceeded to quote the passage word for word. T h e crowd picked up the dispute. "How can this youngster question that elderly imam? Since he is so young, he must be wrong." "No, he sounds as though he knows whereof he speaks . . ." The arguments waxed back and forth, becoming more and more boisterous, until a policeman asked Aminu to leave. He did so, heading for the home of Mohammed Dan Karfalla, his host in Jos, followed by about fifty of the most impressed listeners. Never one to waste an opportunity, Aminu harangued them in front of his host's house, discussing this and related events. The outcome was a Hausa Society, the counterpart of the Ibo and Yoruba fraternal unions and the first of its kind in Jos. The next day, the people came to stare at the house of Mohammed Dan Karfalla and the young man who was so right. And the old mallam himself returned to the marketplace to say that he had checked his source and the boy was correct and should therefore be blessed not cursed. T o such people in Bauchi, Aminu was like a man from outer space. He was more of a curiosity than the foreign British baturi, for he was one of them and yet not. He was compounded of pure Fulani and its antithesis, and used Hausa-Fulani means to accomplish non-Hausa-Fulani goals. Even a man like Sa'adu Zungur was more understandable than Aminu, for Sa'adu to them was a learned mallam, thoroughly schooled in the Koran and its commentaries; who perhaps because of his illness, did not mingle too freely with them. In spite of the radical nature of what he said, he seemed not unlike the itinerant mallam of yesteryear who preached about the wrath of demons, hellfire and brimstones, and the forthcoming Armageddon. Aminu in a sense maintained a similar relationship with the masses, but he did not stop there. He had the patience and took the

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time to educate the young and the ignorant toward their own legitimate goals. His attraction was not so much his age as that he spoke to them on their own level. H e was of patrician heritage, but approached everyone as an equal, ignoring the centuries-old status structure that so dominated their lives and thinking. He moved freely in and out of their homes and welcomed them to his. H e could meet and greet them in the market, in the public square, and everywhere he went they thought of him as being above opportunism and the desire for personal aggrandizement. Yet he had emerged from the heart of a system that accepted these as inherent. He gave freely of his time to the lowliest, and defied the tradition-ridden and respectdemanding social stratification. The fact that he still did not get struck down by it aroused a dormant sense of independence in the people—something they had never dared acknowledge before. As the years passed and his consistency and courage were sustained, his reputation grew. Dozens, even hundreds, flocked to his house— knowing they would be received respectfully—just to gaze at him or listen open-mouthed to his oracle-like words of wisdom. In the political years to follow, his political adversaries could attack his lieutenants and followers, but usually not him, for they always kept a healthy respect for him and his goals. Ordinarily, the worst they could conjure up was that he was too impatient or a dupe. In an area where Sufism had such a firm hold, many thought of him as one who could foresee the future: " H e can predict what is to come." "We listen to him, for he knows of what he speaks." His thorough knowledge of the Koran and the culture and traditions of his land bestowed upon him the aura of a teacher who interpreted reality as they saw it. Years after her divorce from Aminu, Hasia, his former wife, said almost reverently, " H e foresees, and tells, the truth. He told a friend that if he continued drinking he would suffer. The friend didn't stop and was faced with destitution on more than one occasion. He told me that if I divorced him I would suffer, and he was right, as he always is." Sarkin Mallamai (Chief of Mallams) of Bauchi put it this way: "He can tell what will happen and urges everyone to sacrifice time and effort to achieve it." Another man said, "Events smell, and Aminu can smell them!" This awe with which he has been regarded by so many is compounded of admiration, respect, and mysticism. Dozens of people

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who know him have voiced the same opinion; that however he did it, he has acquired the kind of wisdom which permits him to predict events. One foreign observer quipped, "His prognostications come not from any extrasensory perceptions but from reading The New York Times." Aminu himself has always deprecated these beliefs in his supernatural abilities, pointedly telling any who listened, that they too could gain similar powers with application, analysis, and above all, education. Nevertheless, Gogo Nana and Nasiru Kabara in Kano and Ali Agba in Agege will continue to think of him as a soothsayer. If we carry these references to Aminu's clairvoyance back to his growth years, we can readily see how early he repudiated the Fulani pattern of accepting one's fate with abject resignation, and how he actively sought answers to the unknown. At the age of four, he was determined to find out "What's up there in the sky"; at the age of six, he "predicted" the death of his mother; he pursued medical knowledge and scientific facts, predicting the cures based on such knowledge. Finally, he used his knowledge and experience on the political front to prophesy dire consequences for those who neglected the people's wishes. It is said that two years before the death of the Premier (Sardauna) Aminu predicted he would not last two more years if he continued his arrogant rule, and that a military regime would replace the Nigerian republic if official corruption continued. But the most whimsical of his predictions did literally come out of The New York Times. Sometime during his years in Bauchi he informed the ciroma (heir-apparent) that there would be an eclipse of the sun at a particular time and place (shades of The Connecticut Yankee!)The skeptical prince said that if this happened, he would till Aminu's soil for one full year. The eclipse of course occurred as announced. The prince was a man of his word, but since he was also a man of royalty, he had to perform his pledged task in the dark of night, hidden from view. Perhaps if he truly had these powers of foresight, Aminu should have been able to see that those early years of teaching in Bauchi would end, even though temporarily, with a long odyssey to a distant land where he would meet with strange people and adventures. However, he could hardly have anticipated such a development, for

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it was brought about by the very people he attacked so vociferously, the British. Abubakar, his headmaster, had gone to England as one of the first five northern Nigerian scholarship students, and that was understandable and predictable. But Aminu could not have realized that he would be next in line. Clearly, getting him out of the country, even for a year, must have had some advantages to the British. It might have served as a bribe, or a brake, but even if that were not so, getting him off their back would give them a breathing spell. (They were to try this tactic again a few years later when they promoted him to a remote school at Maru in Sokoto Province—but, as events unfolded, all to no avail.) In any event, when Aminu was offered one of seven scholarships for a year's study in England, in September 1946, he was elated, and accepted unhesitatingly. It was to be his first trip out of Nigeria, and he was to make the most of it, though his heart stayed behind in Hausaland.

- 6 The Outer Circle

The speaker at Free Speech Corner in Hyde Park was waxing eloquent on some religious subject or other. Aminu stood on the fringe of the crowd, listening with only half an ear. It was a chilly, damp London day, much like the many others he had experienced since his arrival, and so unlike the heat and rain of Kano, or even the cool balmy mountain air of Jos. As he pulled his collar a bit tighter around his neck, his attention wandered. He realized that what intrigued him here was not so much what the speaker—any speaker— might be saying, but just the very existence of such a spot. Here anyone with a grievance, crackpot or otherwise, could get up and spout ideas quite unacceptable to the establishment, and yet not get clapped in jail. This country, where people could think independently, disagree with the authorities, and, most important, do something about their fate, was so different from his home environment that he made a qualitative leap in his thinking. Up to that point, government for and of the people had been his dim, distant goal. H e suddenly realized that the revolution he had conceived for Nigeria had to switch onto a new track if it was ever to reach the desired destination. There had to be government by the people. But did not his fellow countrymen have to arrive at a state of mind similar to that of the "free" British before they could even begin to achieve significant change? Was it not imperative that they first stand up and fight for their rights, as individuals, to participate in government? Hundreds of years of Hausa-Fulani traditional relationships had never provided a means for the common man, or talakawa (derived from the Arabic word meaning "freed m a n " ) to participate in the decision-making process 98

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save as a client of one patron or another, or as a disgruntled dropout —and the British presence had not changed that one iota. These ideas were rolling excitedly through his head when his reverie was shattered by the voice of one of his fellow students. "Aminu Kano! Of course you are here! Mr. Mort has been looking for you at the hostel. He wanted you to pop up to his home in the country this weekend. We didn't tell him you would probably be here, for you know how angry he gets when he doesn't find you studying at home like the rest of us." Aminu made a wry face in response. He couldn't be less interested in such a weekend. He had seen enough of E. L. Mort, both as a tutor at London University's Institute of Education and as a principal back in Kaduna College. Here in England he wanted to use every spare minute to learn, to discover, to investigate. That meant going into every intellectual nook or geographical cranny of London, wherever he could find something new. He was eagerly devouring the words of Harold Laski, George Bernard Shaw, and Karl Mannheim, a sociologist-lecturer at London University and author of Man and Society, the source of many of Aminu's ideas on the ideal human society. Although he knew very little about it, socialism was a concept that attracted him, leading him to join all the socialist groups he could find: the Socialist Labor Party, the Student Socialist Society, and the Young Socialists. He befriended some of the left leaning MPs and quietly admired their Labour Party for its welfare state, knowing that Nigeria had a long way to go to reach these minimum requirements and even though at times he baited the party openly for its compromises and inactivity. The ideological spectrum was completed when, as a colonial student, he was courted by another kind of socialist group, the communists, and even met some of the top leaders. His head was spinning with all the ideological nuances and variations he was sopping up, and with his attempts to apply them to Nigeria and Africa. The other six Northern Nigerians studying with him were sticking close to their assignments and were not too helpful to him in his search, nor were the southern Nigerians, like Jaja Wachuku, who were busy running their own show. But he met other students from the Asian and African colonies at the Colonial

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Students' Office, in the Ministry of Colonial Administration, where all administrative arrangements were handled and student allowances picked up. Many of them have turned up as Africa's leaders— among them Kwame Nkrumah, Jomo Kenyatta, and Seretse Khama. It was the eve of independence for India and Pakistan—a struggle that united all the colonial students at the time. When Ali Jinnah, Indian Moslem leader, and Jawaharlal Nehru arrived in London in 1947 for pre-independence discussions, they were greeted wildly at the airport by these students, to whom freedom was still a visionary dream. "Forward to Freedom," a united group of students from the colonies, organized a tumultuous welcome at London's Holborn Hall, with Aminu in enthusiastic attendance. He was a young underling with only a few months of Western-world experience. The philosophy and political concepts of early French and American revolutionaries, of Shavian Fabian socialism, became entwined in his mind with his early learning from the Koran and the writings of Usman Dan Fodio. Although he was still influenced by Sa'adu Zungur's radical but parochial thinking, London was broadening his outlook and giving his own ideas a world-wide context. The struggle for freedom from the colonial yoke, with its accompanying Gandhian nonviolence {satyagraha), and political leadership through self-abnegation, was stirred into the pot of ideas, which could no longer be put in place quite so easily. "Think, study, and think some more" was the order of the day. The West African Student Union, a broad organization that included all West Africans, suffered from the plaints which usually accompany broadness—moderation. Since official sponsorship permitted W A S U to serve as an open forum on politics and social welfare, but not much else, a smaller, more militant group of students, purportedly more African in style, organized themselves into the West African Secretariat. Under the aegis of Kwame Nkrumah, George Padmore, and others resident in England much longer than Aminu, it pledged its members to go back to their homelands, and to provide the dynamism they felt was lacking in the broader group. By this time, Nkrumah had returned from the U.S., but had not yet gone back to his native Gold Coast. Subsequent struggles in British West Africa found Aminu and Nkrumah seeing eye to eye on many struggles, primarily because of their mutual militant anticolonialism.

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Although Aminu was very much taken with his newfound concepts of socialism, he and the leaders in the West African Secretariat were not thinking of mass movements in Marxian terms. Rather, their African experience told them that the masses were not yet ready to move on their own; they needed strong charismatic, Napoleonic leaders who could attract crowds and move mountains. In the process, perhaps they could train people for mass participation. As events developed, men like Nkrumah found this latter course too difficult and hence enjoyed and indefinitely extended the first phase of strong leadership. Men like Gandhi and Nehru actually influenced Aminu more deeply than did Nkrumah, but not until India had achieved her independence, largely through nonviolent techniques, did Aminu think to apply this dynamic, militant approach to the struggle in Nigeria. Since Aminu's concept of education was modern and progressive, he reached out for information into areas far beyond London University itself. But within its walls he read voraciously and attended lectures by any professor he felt could contribute something worthwhile, whether in the field of education or outside it. Most of all, he used his year abroad to ferret out information that was not available in Nigeria. As he assimilated it, he kept funneling it into, "How can this be applied in Nigeria?" Around him, all this complex and highly organized society and not a single region-wide organization of any type in all of Northern Nigeria. He gathered together his fellow Northern Nigerians and school teachers—Salihu Fulani, Z. Y. Dimka, Yahaya Gusau, Shettima Shehu Ajiram—and several others, to organize the Northern Teachers' Welfare Association, (which became the Northern Teachers' Association (NTA) when it was transplanted from London to Nigeria). Shettima Ajiram, the headmaster of Bornu Middle School, was chosen president pro tem; and Aminu, secretary pro tem. There were issues enough: teachers' rights and welfare, the need for an improved syllabus, salary differentials between North and South; and the eligibility of teachers in Christian Mission Schools for membership in NTA. Aminu was authorized to send letters to headmasters throughout the North, urging them to attend an organizing meeting in Nigeria the following year. Here in London, then, was hatched Northern Nigeria's first labor union, its first region-wide organiza-

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tion of any kind, and what is generally considered the precursor and "lineal antecedent of most nationalist organizations founded in the North."i How else to apply all this to his homeland? At this point Aminu chose to write the term paper discussed in Chap'er 3, "Girls' Education in Kano Emirate." Although it did not represent a tremendous amount of original research, it did reveal some analytical thought, an ability to cast out preconceived notions of the Hausa-Fulani establishment, and an attempt to build something new on old foundations, thus providing a clue as to why he was always the radical back home. Aminu's course at the Institute of Education included practice teaching in London's elementary schools, where he was able to sense at first hand the vast cultural differences between the two countries. In a booklet entitled Motsi Ya Fi Zama (It Is Better to Be on the Move than Idle), he subsequently described the uninhibited English children as "naughty" and "like young monkeys who don't like to stay in one place." However, he eventually learned to control their exuberance and befriend them and their teachers, to the point where the children looked forward to "Mr. Aminu's Day." Since it was "better to be on the move," at the conclusion of the school term Aminu arranged to extend his experience into rural areas as a guest of the Young Farmers' Club, a self-help community development organization. He spent several weeks in the Welsh countryside, billeted in private homes, observing and running the combine-harvester, milking cows, and so on, always thinking of possible applications back home. He had skimped on his allowance to save his pennies for traveling in the British countryside and for one big trip to the continent during his vacation, simultaneously serving as part-time Hausa language announcer and translator for the British Broadcasting Company, to augment these meager savings. In August, when he was almost ready to finance his trip, he had a pleasant surprise. Because of his boy scout activities at home, and his present proximity to France, he was chosen as delegate to the forthcoming World Boy Scout Jamboree in Rosny, near Paris. This meant that his fare to Europe would be paid and his living costs greatly reduced while

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there, since France extended many discounts and much hospitality as its contribution to the Jamboree. But Aminu was most impressed when, on July 26, 1947, the eve of his departure for the continent, the entire boy scout contingent was invited to Buckingham Palace for inspection and "tea in the Stables" with the king and queen. Of the thousand-odd scouts there, about three hundred represented the colonial contingent—from India, Burma, Hong Kong, East and West Africa, and actually the entire globe. Aminu was amazed and shaken by the free and easy way in which the king and queen mingled and chatted with the boys. Back home the British officialdom was so aloof that a Nigerian did not dare present himself to the resident—not to mention his superior, the governor, who in his turn would not dream of approaching the king and queen. There, the royal couple was untouchable; here, he, a little fellow, was touching them, shaking hands with the very symbol of all the power that the resident represented. His awe of colonial rulers was shattered. In Nigeria, they did not even acknowledge the dignity of man that was practiced here in their homeland, making it obvious that their system was crumbling. Colonial rule had to be thrown out and a government based on socialist ideals set up. There was no other way out. After this revelation, Aminu's trip to the continent was almost anticlimactic. The spirit of love and tolerance engendered at the Jamboree, where thousands of boys from all over the world were gathered in a gigantic tent city, left him with an exciting hope that this same spirit could be created in his own country. When Mr. Snowsell, the British scout leader of their contingent, complained of the barbaric French continental breakfast, with coffee rather than the tea to which he was accustomed, Aminu jestingly but caustically reacting to his recent experience at Buckingham Palace, asked if tea drinking were a qualification for nationhood. "If so," he continued, "shouldn't we Nigerians abstain from drinking tea until Nigeria has achieved its independence? And how about India's independence? Didn't the East Indians drink tea for centuries, long before the British?" His counterparts, the delegates from the Western and Eastern Regions— M. N. Sagoe and Christopher Mojekwu— laughed heartily. (Aminu saw Mojekwu years later, in 1968, on the opposite side of the peace negotiation table in Kampala.)

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From the Jamboree, Aminu was able to manage a trip to Switzerland, Rome, and Paris, seeing all the sights en route. As a gaping tourist, he wandered through city streets, picking up bits and pieces of information and storing them away in the remote recesses of his brain. He preferred London to all other European cities, for the usual reasons: he had made more friends there, spoke the language, and generally felt more at home. Reluctantly he faced his imminent departure for Lagos, for he had enjoyed his other world life as a student. H e did briefly consider staying on to study law, but he had made a commitment to return immediately after completing his course and feared the possibility of being denied readmittance by the British. More than this, he also had a strong urge to go back and put into operation some of the exhilarating new and revolutionary ideas he had picked up in his year in the outer circle—ideas that might effect the changes necessary to bring his own land into the wider orbit of the modern world.

Putting It Together

When Aminu returned to Bauchi after his brief sojourn in England, he knew that political upheaval and social changes were surely coming. Though he did not know where or how he would function, he did know that he was most certainly going to play a leading role. The teaching profession he saw as the anteroom of a labyrinth, leading where he knew not, but into which he was ready to plunge headlong. The British did not know how he would fit in either. Aminu's year in England had given them a respite, but now they had to put him somewhere. Instead of cooling off, Aminu had come back to the struggle reinforced. They wanted to train Nigerians to help guide the country, but when successful, independent souls like Aminu emerged problems of conflict arose. While they were casting about for a controllable post for him, Aminu was not content to wait silently. In his absence, political organizations had begun to bubble more actively in scarcely concealed forms. The Friendly Societies mentioned earlier had taken root in most towns of consequence. In 1946, a group of young nationalists in Kano had attempted to organize a frankly political region-wide organization called the Northern Elements Progressive Association (NEPA), but the Native Authority quickly squelched it through the simple expedient of transferring or sacking all its known members.* The groundwork for its replacement, the Northern Teachers Association (NTA), destined to be the first successful regional •Included among them were Abdu Rahman Bida, President; Raji Abdallah, Secretary; and Abubakar Zukogi, Field Secretary.

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organization in the history of the North, had already been laid in England by Aminu and his colleagues. Aminu's assumption was that if he moved carefully, the authorities would not be able to stop it. All parties concerned knew that the very existence of such an organization, whether ostensibly a professional society or not, would have explosive effects on the political scene. The question was how to avoid giving any excuse for suppression by either the British or the Native Authorities. Although Aminu had all kinds of controversial plans for his brainchild, he had been cautious enough to include conservatives like Abubakar Tafawa Balewa and Shettima Shehu Ajiram as founding members, and to approach all teachers regardless of their political positions. The organization's stated goals were to enhance education and to represent the interests of the teachers. In spite of this circumspection, official sanction was denied them. Undaunted, Aminu continued sending out letters to every school in the North, urging participation of all teachers from the headmasters on down and reminding them of the organizing meeting to be held in Zaria in March 1948. A reluctant education officer who admitted he could see nothing wrong with the project was persuaded to invite the Emir of Zaria to be patron, and incidentally grant them permission to use a convention hall. The emir graciously (though hesitantly) agreed to both, and appeared during the sessions to accept his honorary title. H e was not the only unlikely one to attend. The British were keeping a close watch on Aminu's organizing activities. A Captain C. D. Money, formerly senior district officer in Kano, had been assigned to Kaduna Central Headquarters for the North as a sort of roving political-intelligence officer to observe and control questionable activities. In Kano, the captain had something of a reputation as a progressive and a strong man, to be feared by emirs and chiefs, for he had insisted on their opening the doors to change. H e had come to know Aminu in Kano and, while in England during Aminu's stay there, had even asked him to spend a weekend at his home in Brighton. Upon his arrival in Zaria, Captain Money invited Aminu to lunch and greeted him with, "How is my friend Stalin, and how is the meeting of the Northern Nigerian Soviets progressing?"

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"But isn't Stalin on his way out? He's so old?" "You know I was joking. You're just in Stalin's category." Aminu banteringly ended with, "1 wish I were in his category." In spite of their sparring, these two were able to maintain cordiality, so that Aminu ended up inviting the captain to open the meeting. Captain Money and the British were taken by surprise at the success of the meeting. For seven days, the large number of teachers in attendance managed to hammer out a constitution and an organizational form. All the pro tem officers were elected to regular terms: Shettima Ajiram, president; Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, vice-president; and Aminu Kano, general secretary. Aminu's home in Bauchi was to be the headquarters. There all the rules and regulations were to be published and invitations to form individual branches were to be dispatched. Men like Dr. R. A. B. Dikko, D. A. Rafi, and Abubakar Imam, representative of the only learned group in the North other than teachers, were in attendance, and suggested: "You have succeeded in forming a region-wide organization with general acceptance, but what about people like us? We are not teachers, and we need organization even more. We hope we can count on your active cooperation to help place us all under one umbrella." Within a year the NTA had twenty-five branches and had been granted official representation on the Board of Education—one of Aminu's first demands upon assuming his role as organizing secretary. But at the very first Board meeting he attended as delegate, he continued rocking the boat. To everyone's surprise, the enigmatic Aminu supported the request of a group of Christian missionaries who asked permission to open a mission school in a Moslem area— even though all previous requests had been denied. In addition, as a committee member he helped work out a complete revision of the current syllabus and successfully negotiated improvements in teachers' salaries and working conditions. Though there had been a pre-existing Nigerian Union of Teachers in the south, at that stage in the history of the north Aminu felt it was important that the organization be not only region-wide but free of any taint of possible southern domination—nor for that matter had the southerners approached him. Not until a few years later,

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when politics had been launched full scale and Aminu left the NTA, did the northern group eventually affiliate with the national union. In the interim, back home in Bauchi, Sa'adu Zungur was still seriously ill but functioning actively—though his thinking was taking him off in a slightly different direction than Aminu's. Rather than continuing to search for an indigenous politics, independent of the south, he had come to regard Nnamdi Azikiwe's National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons (NCNC), based principally in the South-East, as a possible outlet for national unity and a matrix on which to build a body politic. The first attempt at regional organization, the NEPA, had directly associated itself with the NCNC, openly welcoming its support in 1946, when that group sent a pan-Nigerian delegation to tour the North. Although the stated aims of the NEPA were those of the majority of the young, educated elite of the north, most of the members were afraid equally of the wrath of the Native Authorities and of the possibility of being dominated by the better educated and far more aggressive southerners. Those with influence, whose cooperation might have made repression difficult, were not ready to have their own heads lopped off with a direct accusation of collusion with the southerners. Thus the guarded and prudent approach of Aminu and others in the organization of the NTA and the subsequent Northern People's Congress ( N P C ) . To the extent that the NCNC had any support in the north, it was largely due to a nucleus of southerners resident in the area or to minority groups living close to the southern border. The NCNC elected Sa'adu Zungur its federal secretary at a national assembly in Kaduna in April 1948, and after a send-off party in May, he left for Lagos to take up his duties there. Aminu, though close to the pan-Nigerian NCNC* in his radical approach to the north, shrewdly assessed the northern fear of the south as an overriding consideration. Thus, when the time arrived for his newly organized party to align itself with the NCNC, it did so, but only after it had already established a solid base, essentially northern in character. *NCNC: Although attempting to spread its influence throughout Nigeria, the core of the party's strength was in the Ibo heartland in the Eastern Region, and what eventually became known as the Mid-West.

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Aminu's characteristic instinctive brand of radicalism enabled him to retain working relationships with all his young adult friends and relatives, even through the bitterest and most acrimonious of times. His antagonists knew that when the chips were down, Aminu would chalk up as a northerner. This northern orientation of his showed through frequently during the next two decades, beginning with the constitutional conferences of the early 1950's. Though he was not averse to dealings with a southern party, at no time did Aminu's party relinquish its independence of action, despite its opponents' accusations to the contrary. Early in 1948, Aminu learned of the possibility that the NCNC would offer him a scholarship for further study, either in the U.S. or in Great Britain. H e welcomed the prospect and waited impatiently for it to materialize, but to no avail. When the offer finally came through, it was equivocal and Aminu did not accept it under those conditions. During these months, Aminu waited impatiently to hear from the British regarding his immediate future, while simultaneously hunting for his own solutions. His frustration at the slow pace of change was clearly in evidence. H e burned with desire to alter the status quo, but was stymied by the reluctance of the British and the emirs to accept any changes not introduced by their own officialdom. His personal life had taken a frustrating turn too. He had been married five years by this time, and was still childless. Hasia, his wife, had been ill with an elusive but somewhat serious and long-lasting spleen affliction, further reducing the possibility of childbearing. Then, in 1948, his hopes were aroused when she became pregnant, only to be dashed again when she miscarried. Obviously Aminu's political and vocational uneasiness was not relieved by these personal uncertainties. In his diary he listed the following as items still outstanding at the end of 1 9 4 8 : 1 1. Need for continued development of Teachers' Welfare Association (Nigerian Teachers' Association). 2. Shaping up of Bauchi Community Center. 3. Wanting child (I have great h o p e ) . 4. Help father. His diary also reveals an impatience with his fellow leaders, noting that they were wasting their time attacking one another, and

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that many were selling out for comfortable positions with the old order. "The mill of God grinds slowly but perfectly well," he complained. "We are determined to fight all imperialists." The Bauchi people were disunited, the talakawa beaten down and immobilized. "Nigeria is doomed if [the] pernicious system of bloodthirsty, barbarous, obsolescent Fulani rulers is pursued." Perhaps a strong leader was the answer. "May God Almighty raise someone who will erase the influence of the chiefs and emirs. Maybe He'll give us a Mustafa Kemal, or a Mussolini . . ."- While expressing this disoriented impatience at not finding his niche, he continued to agitate for democratic reform, indicating an overriding, instinctive trust in the power of the people. In Bauchi, however, Aminu was proceeding full blast. On his return from England, he had gone back to his former post in the Bauchi Middle School, but a few months after his arrival, he was asked to move to the Bauchi Teachers' Training College. The move gave some minimal recognition to the higher status accorded him by his study in England. Yet it did not alter his out-of-school activities in any way. He changed schools smoothly in April 1948, without shifting out of high gear. At this time, the newly appointed Governor, Sir John MacPherson, was in the process of making a tour throughout the North to survey his realm. His itinerary included all the major cities of the North, but for some unexplained reason he was skipping Bauchi. The group of militants led by Aminu and Sa'adu felt the omission was deliberate. They believed the Governor's northern advisers and representatives knew that Bauchi was the only place where he would have been confronted with a list of demands, grievances, and suggestions for change. Planning their tactics well, Aminu, Sa'adu, and one other person went to the Emir of Bauchi and told him of the Governor's projected slight of his emirate, tying it up with Bauchi's poor school system, roads, and economy. The people of Bauchi, said this committee of three, wanted the Governor to see these conditions for himself. The emir readily agreed to the proposal that they address the townspeople, protesting the Governor's omission. H a d this trio approached the Native Authority police for the necessary written permission to speak to the public, it would undoubtedly have been delayed and then denied. But by going over

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the heads of the bureaucrats they were able to organize the first mass rally ever held in Northern Nigeria. About a thousand people assembled in the marketplace. They were addressed by Sa'adu and Aminu; resolutions were passed urging the Governor to come to Bauchi to see for himself and a letter to that effect was sent to the Resident of Bauchi to be forwarded to the Governor. There were reverberations throughout the North. The British were shocked that such an unprecedented event could take place without warning. The British head of the Bauchi police asked the committee for their permit two days after the rally, and roundly admonished them and the emir to whom he was referred by the supposedly innocent and naive committee which did not understand such intricate administrative procedures. The years 1948 and 1949 were notable, too, for the beginnings of political parties in Northern Nigeria. The Social and Friendly Circles that had sprung up were harbingers of change, but not until two such groups—one in Zaria the other in Kaduna—decided to merge did the nucleus for an all-inclusive, region-wide organization develop. Dr. Dikko (first medical officer of northern origin) and Abubakar Imam, editor of Gaskiya, the Hausa language newspaper of the North, and other charter members of the Zaria group, had approached Aminu at the convention of the Northern Teachers' Association to help extend such a "cultural" organization throughout the North. Since Aminu's sights were set beyond the teaching profession, he willingly agreed to cooperate. Wherever he went to organize chapters of the NTA, he encouraged the parallel organization of branches of what was to be the Northern Peoples' Congress (NPC), and persuaded the many existing social and cultural organizations to affiliate. From its inception in October 1948—when the Zaria and Kaduna groups merged, followed shortly by the Bauchi group—the NPC spread like wildfire. In June 1949, an inaugural organizing meeting was launched in Kaduna, at Green's Hotel. In attendance were Sa'adu Zungur (though he was general secretary of NCNC at the time), Aminu and Isa Wali, a cousin of Aminu's. Although the spectral political spread and the resultant differences between the organizers prepared the way for future splits, the issues at this initial congress centered around two proposals. The first was advanced by Isa Wali, on behalf of the Kaduna branch: to

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abolish the Northern House of Chiefs as a legislative chamber and substitute in its stead a council of elders that would include the emirs but give them only advisory powers. The second proposal was to admit women to membership. In this matter, Sa'adu Zungur, as the organization's adviser on Moslem law, ruled that women were eligible, using a long-standing precedent—that Shehu Dan Fodio had admitted women to his classes. The Sultan of Sokoto's blessings were read before the assembly at its opening session but later withdrawn when the sultan objected to the vigorous debate on the elimination of the house of chiefs. Pro tem officers were elected, including Sa'adu Zungur as adviser on Moslem law, Aminu Kano as joint auditor, and Isa Wali as assistant secretary. Over the years, Isa Wali rapidly became a very meaningful part of Aminu's life, starting back in Kaduna when Isa roomed with Sule Katagum, Aminu's friend and former pupil. There were several limitations to the relationship between these two. Isa was younger, and a member of the civil service throughout his short life. This career of Isa's proved to be something of a barrier to their joint action, for civil servants were forbidden to take open political positions. The cousins (or brothers, as they called each other) were frequently stationed or occupied in different towns; but whenever they could, they put their heads together to project their individual ideas regarding the future of their country. Isa, though barred from active participation in political life, jumped eagerly into the social arena, and became a champion of women's rights. Aminu, the rebel out to change the essential power structure, could not stray too far from accepted social limitations for fear of cutting off his mass support. If his wife appeared with a woman's group or at a political function (as on one occasion in 1952 when Aminu returned from L o n d o n ) , that was acceptable, but the following day she would return to her usual role. Isa, to whom popular personal support was of little concern, insisted that his wife be liberated. She ignored purdah (isolation of wives), went to school, and even drove a car. When Isa received an invitation from the emir to a social gathering, he returned it with a note saying that he could not accept unless his wife was included—a hitherto unheard-of action. In every way he could, he consistently pointed out those Hausa-Fulani and Islamic traditions that encouraged the free inter-

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mingling of the sexes. During his several years of foreign service in the United States and other countries, his egalitarian view of the relationship b e t w e e n the sexes was strongly reinforced. T h e contradictions existing in the North at that time were clearly illustrated by this Wali family. S u l e i m a n , Isa's father, was an influential, religious m e m b e r of the G e n a w a clan, related to Aminu both as a distant cousin and as h u s b a n d of his maternal aunt (parenthetically, another of Suleiman's wives was a daughter of the emir). As a learned i m a m , he acc o m p a n i e d the e m i r on a pilgrimage to M e c c a , thereafter b e c o m i n g his close intimate. W h e n the waziri (prime minister) passed away, Suleiman w a s ma'aji (treasurer), but since his family lineage was not the one f r o m which the waziri was usually c h o s e n , Emir Abdullahi bestowed the title of Wali upon his friend and adviser, left the post of waziri o p e n , and asked Suleiman to function as though it were his portfolio. In a way, Wali Suleiman reflected the inconsistencies and uncertainty of his times. He c a m e out of the same background as A m i n u and his father Yusufu, but w h e n he was shown favor by the emir, there were s o m e staunch d e f e n d e r s of the traditional independence of the mallam class w h o considered this shift to the side of p o w e r with s o m e disfavor. T h e trust the emir placed in him and his advice reflected Suleiman's allegiance to the traditional p o w e r base. Yet, this same d e f e n d e r of entrenched hierarchy was responsible for starting the School of Arabic Studies in Kano and insisted on many m o d e r n educational r e f o r m s , including the study of English for all his own children, as well as for the emir and his counselors and wives. After having served from 1 9 3 5 - 1 9 3 9 , Suleiman left his post as wali during a t u m u l t u o u s inner court upheaval. He and several of his fellow councilors and m e m b e r s of the inner court all died at almost the same time under circumstances never fully explained, but Suleiman himself apparently died of natural causes. As Isa Wali and his brothers grew up and were e d u c a t e d , they disagreed with their father's d e f e n s e of the establishment. All achieved high status in the civil service as part of the educated elite and were classed as progressives and modernists. In a general way, at least, they were all in A m i n u ' s c a m p , and although as civil servants they were prohibited f r o m political activity, there was never m u c h doubt as to w h e r e their loyalties lay. A f t e r achieving ambassadorial rank, representing Nigeria in G h a n a and serving as U . N . delegate, I s a himself m e t a n e a r l y a n d t r a g i c e n d s u d d e n l y in 1 9 6 7 . T o a

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Western observer, his contributions might not seem revolutionary, but the full extent of his challenge comes into perspective when we see that Zainab, his widow (who had achieved some status as the only woman member of Kano's Consultative Assembly), 3 chose to remarry a prominent northerner, to submerge herself in purdah, speaking to men through a curtain, emerging to view only after rare and specific permission of her husband. This in 1969! The pull of the traditional system is still that strong.

The new ideas regarding change to modernity which Aminu had brought with him from England were frowned upon by the authorities as too radical for the North, but they still didn't know what to do about him. Now his motto was, "What is good enough for the British in Britain is good enough for us." On this basis, Aminu was doing nothing illegal and could not be molested by the British in Nigeria. As a matter of fact, he was doing what the British were publicly urging—preparing his people for entering the modern world—but privately they wanted to preserve the status quo. Their resolution of this conflict was such that governmental policy became not much more than an attempt to brake the growth of political activity, in order to retain the framework of British domination. Aminu was moving too fast and too far for them. They had to find some means of slowing him down. Although Aminu was not exactly sitting and waiting for their decision, he knew full well that the British were in a dilemma and were trying to find a spot for him. Hence he was not surprised when the education officer approached him one day in his classroom in the Teachers' Training College, to tell him to make tracks to Kaduna to meet the Chief Secretary to the Government, Mr. Knott (the same Mr. Knott who had organized the Bauchi Discussion Circle a few years back and who had since been promoted). H e traveled to Kaduna by train (the principal means of transport available to him in those years), and was somewhat jolted to find the Chief Secretary himself waiting for him at the station. H e was jolted even more when Mr. Knott invited him to put up at his residence. Until he left for England he had been totally ignored. Now he, Aminu, a very junior teacher was being met by one of the highest

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officials in the land and asked to be his guest! In response to the invitation, he could only stammer, "Isa Wali, a brother of mine, is working here in Kaduna and expecting me. Thank you very much in any case." Whereupon Mr. Knott drove Aminu to the flat which Isa shared with Sule Katagum. These two roommates were later taken to task for associating with their friend Aminu, the flaming revolutionary. On at least one occasion the reproof came from the Senior Assistant Secretary in charge of security—further evidence of the contradictions in British policy at that time. The following morning, the awe-stricken Aminu was picked up by Mr. Knott and driven to an interview with the Queen's representative, the Governor himself. His remarks, though cordial, did not exactly put Aminu at ease, for they had to do with Aminu's sharp criticisms of him and the government he represented. "You have indicated that you think we intentionally keep the North backward, and the North and South divided—that you want us to go so that your country may have independence. You're a man from an important Kano family, young and full of spirit, but you must realize that we don't intentionally prevent changes and keep the country from progressing." Aminu listened open-mouthed to the highest voice in the land and said nothing. He was dismissed with, "I thought I should meet and exchange a few words of welcome with you, but it's really Mr. Knott who will give you the particular reasons for your visit." Mr. Knott started in a similar vein, but quickly reached in for details. "You may be critical of us, but we really like men like you, who are ahead of your countrymen. You have attacked our misuse of taxes, claiming we are milking Nigeria for Britain's advantages; yet we are ready not only to show you how our funds are spent but to have you participate. We want you to come to work for the financial section of the government, to see for yourself. "If you prefer, we can make you the next editor of our Hausalanguage newspaper here in Zaria, where you can keep in touch with your people all over the country. You see, we are ready to use your capacities; we have nothing to hide." Aminu answered, "I will certainly consider your offer, but you of course realize that I am not alone in my endeavors. I would want to discuss it with my friends and will be happy to transmit my deci-

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sion to you through the Bauchi Resident." As he concluded, the Chief Secretary remarked that if neither of the two posts pleased Aminu, they would consider something else; for they wanted to place him in a position where he would be happy and could do the most good. When Aminu discussed it with Sa'adu and the others back in Bauchi, they all concluded that this proposal was merely a ruse, an attempt to disperse the small group of Bauchi activists and render them impotent. So he told the resident of Bauchi that he appreciated the government's offers, but he was really an educator and preferred to stay with the school system. A few months later he realized that the British were more canny and had more resources and tricks up their collective sleeve than he. In January 1949, he was told by the director of education from Kaduna headquarters, while on an inspection visit, that a new teachers' training college was being built at Maru in Sokoto Province, made to order for Aminu. He would be headmaster and could do what he wished, and wouldn't he like that? This time Aminu had boxed himself in, and could not refuse, for the suggested assignment was in education and he had been waiting over a year. Three months later he left with his family for this remote school, far from his hub of activity in the past but still deep in Hausaland.

- 8 The Rebel

When Joseph Tarka, native of the Middle Belt area of Nigeria and currently Federal Commissioner of Communications, first met Aminu Kano, he said that he was quite startled. He was sure that someone of Aminu's reputation throughout the North must be tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing. Instead, a rather short gentleman, slight of build, with curly, close-cropped hair and beautiful straight white teeth, presented himself. In the early days of Maru Teachers' College, too, Aminu's reputation had preceded him, so that Abubakar Gumi, a newly arrived junior teacher, must have been equally surprised to have an unassuming, dark brown-skinned man with somewhat stooped shoulders appear and identify himself as his headmaster. The British had evidently seen to it that another aspect of Aminu's reputation preceded him too. To the extent that he advocated reform of the old institutions they favored him. To the extent that he pushed for their own elimination from the scene, in order to achieve this, they opposed him. But they felt that they had to separate him from Sa'adu Zungur and from his other companions, get him out of Bauchi and at the same time slow him down. Further complicating the attitude of British administrators was their awareness that he had made extensive connections at the Colonial Office and with persons of influence in England, including left-wing MPs. If Aminu had not already had ample evidence to demonstrate their ongoing ambivalent concern toward him, he found it a few months later when as acting Education Officer he was inadvertently given free access to certain confidential files. There he found his own dossier, which included a warning to local Sokoto authorities about what to expect upon his arrival. On the basis of this admonition, the 117

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Sokoto officials at Maru could have visualized a bearded ogre, capable of starting a jihad, rather than a short, good-humored and unimpressive-looking young man. Aminu, on the other hand, had his own conflict. He was disturbed at the British role in maintaining the onerous emirate system, yet dependent on them to change it. And in the midst of all of these hesitations and confusion, he was sent into the lion's den, to Maru, this small village in Sokoto Province. Sokoto was considered the most conservative section of a very conservative North. It had been the seat of the jihad of Usman Dan Fodio, and had remained the center of traditional and religious authority to the extent that decentralized control of the northern emirates hadn't eaten it away. Here Aminu would be isolated, but even so the British were apprehensive, fearful of putting his talents to the test in an area that was still considered religiously sensitive and inflammable. They showed the Native Authorities their confidential reports and asked them to keep a watchful eye on this potential troublemaker. The Native Authorities wondered why, if he was so dire and disquieting a figure, such an upstart was being sent to their area; but then they had not been consulted. Back in Bauchi, in 1948, Aminu had seriously considered leaving the government service, as indicated by a notation in his diary at the end of that year: "Government people are incompetent and stupid—[I] will resign within two years to join politicians." Instead he evidently decided not to cut back his relatively open political activity and to pass the buck to the government, for up to this point he had somewhat successfully played the N.A. against the British administration and vice versa, utilizing their built-in conflicts and inconsistencies to get things done. When he arrived in Maru, the new school was still under construction, making it necessary for students and staff to double up in improvised billets for two or three months. On the staff there were the education officer, A. J. Spicer, Aminu as headmaster, one other Englishman, and two or three Nigerians, including the abovementioned Abubakar Gumi. T h e latter had recently completed his studies in the School for Arabic Studies in Kano and was hired to teach Arabic, mathematics, and religion, while Aminu taught English

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and the social sciences. Mr. Spicer taught some classes too, but went on leave for some months, shortly after the school opened, leaving Aminu in full charge as acting education officer. While serving in this capacity, he understandably thought that he was entitled to the wages of an education officer, and precipitated a running feud with the authorities, who tried to keep him in check by refusing the increment. 1 Access to the above-mentioned files revealed that the British had him pegged as an excellent teacher, but one who was "running too fast." According to this report, he was frustrated by a lack of educated people around him, and therefore should have a job where he would be among his intellectual equals. Left alone, he would be dangerous. A job as lecturer in Hausa at Oxford University was offered him, which he quickly turned down. The many unresolved conflicts in Aminu's life continued to spur him on. Uncompromising in his criticism of whatever injustices he could ferret out, he rashly and unhesitatingly challeged any authority that he thought was perpetuating them. As he says, "I hated government that sat on people." At Maru he became embroiled in local activity and controversy almost immediately. Sokoto was the citadel of traditional power, and the Sultan of Sokoto its symbol. All cowered and bowed to him—except Aminu, that is. In each government department in his area, the Sultan had men assigned to serve as private eyes. Professor C. S. Whitaker puts it this way: "An emir's control over his territory rested to a considerable extent on his superior command of sources of information. . . . Effective rule presupposed the ability to assess accurately the strength of various parties. . . . To this end, the emir employed a variety of persons (Yan Labari, or Sons of Information), whose primary duty it was to inform him of all happenings of potential or present significance." 2 Aminu was apparently unaware of this practice. When greeted by an elderly man hanging about the school site, Aminu extended alms to him, assuming he had some working function there. Not until several weeks later did he learn that this was the Sultan's Yan Labari. Then, when he asked the old man to leave the grounds and threatened to have him arrested if he showed up the following day, the private eye was quite dismayed. H e immedi-

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ately took a lorry to Sokoto to report his difficulties to the Saltan, setting off the first of several eruptions between the Sultan and Aminu. The repercussions sifted back downward in the form of a letter from the British district officer calling Aminu to task and asking what harm the old man was doing. Aminu's smoldering response pointed out that he was not working for the Sultan but for the British government, and that even if this were not true, he could not tolerate someone sitting in front of him all day to spy on him—custom notwithstanding. Nor did Aminu, the thorough political animal, permit himself to be isolated. Almost immediately upon his arrival in Maru, he paid his respects to the local authorities, wandered about the streets and the marketplace to talk to the people. He thought of setting up a discussion circle, but there were too few educated people in the area. Gusau, the closest town of any size, was thirty-five miles away, over terrible, barely passable roads. In fact, so bad were the corrugations and ruts that a British district officer passing through Gusau on the way to Sokoto almost got killed while passing over a gorge, one of the worst spots. The following day, a mass of laborers were out repairing it. The day after that, a stinging letter was sent to the newspaper Gaskiya by the new headmaster at Maru Teachers' Training College, pointing out that dozens of Nigerians might have been killed on that road in the past, but nothing was done about it until one precious Englishman's life was endangered—and Aminu was on the carpet once again. And then there was the conflict over the land. Astute Aminu tried not to address the talakawa in regard to the total inadequacy of the system, though he himself believed that to be so. Rather, he spoke of the most flagrant abuses of their rights. About six months after his arrival, Aminu discovered through his many new friends among the local residents, that the land on which the school was built had been taken from about thirty farmers, who up to that point had either been paid only partially or not at all. H e took u p the cudgels for them in the form of a letter to the authorities urging prompt payment. It evoked an indignant response from the British. By this time they were truly beginning to be fed up with this upstart.

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always so ready to take on anyone and everyone, big or small. "Before you spout off, please verify your facts. Incontrovertible evidence shows that the Native Authority was paid at the proper time for the land." Aminu was certainly gleeful at such a response, for though the N.A. had received payment, it had never reached the farmers. Where, then, was the money? After much heat, the farmers thanked Aminu profusely, for at long last they got their money, though not without dire threats of recrimination. This little incident did not, of course, further endear Aminu to the Sultan. Although he and almost anyone of consequence who passed the school would normally stop by to pay their respects, the Sultan thereafter gave it a wide berth. All this local "acclimatization" did not in the least affect Aminu's activities on a region-wide basis. Every holiday he would return to Kano—but not to relax. There were the chapters of the Northern Teachers' Association in Katsina (sometimes enroute) and in Kano itself. And when he arrived home, one of the first things he would do was schedule lectures in the School for Arabic Studies or the local library. There he would attempt to awaken the people to the need for study and learning, or talk of the inadequacies of their institutions and what to do about them. In Kano at that time, people were still encouraged to give lectures, for they were not yet clearly regarded as a threat. When the young students from the School for Arabic Studies, or elsewhere in Kano, heard that Aminu was coming— whether through an official announcement by the headmaster or other sources—they would flock to his lectures. The political pot was beginning to come to a boil. The inaugural meeting of the Northern People's Congress held in Kaduna in June 1949, with some five hundred in attendance, set the stage for its first general meeting in Kano in December of the same year. In the brief interval of six months, the organization already had ninety delegates, representing thousands. The British approached this convention with much trepidation, but with official sanction. At one of the opening sessions, a district officer, a Mr. Stevens, was sent by the resident to convey his official greetings. He did so in somber terms, warning the assembled delegates that they could accomplish the desired reforms only if they moved slowly and with caution; that one must learn to

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walk before one can run. This was the first time he had spoken to and mingled with an audience that included merchants and talakawa. His simple admonitions evoked a response whose echo to this day still reverberates throughout the public and private halls in Nigeria, and which almost any "Northerner [of prominence] today will recall with pride and amusement." 3 Aminu rose to ask that the delegates give the speaker a vote of thanks for his words of advice, but that he should report back to his superiors that: "If we go on foot, we will not walk, we will run. A n d if we fall, we will pick ourselves up and run again. But mark you, we will not go on foot. You might tell us to go by camel, or horse, but we will even skip the motor car and go by plane. . . . A n d the British had best not deny us the choice of our means of transportation, no matter how fast." 4 A b u b a k a r Imam, a leader of the more cautious element present at the meeting, reports in retrospect that "it didn't take Aminu too long to realize that we were going to walk too slowly for him and he would have to find another vehicle for himself"; 5 for to A b u b a k a r that was the principal difference between them—just speed. But Aminu and his associates thought there was more to it than that. The K a n o contingent voted to affiliate with the NPC—thus complicating matters, for they were the more militant group. The "go slow" advocates were essentially saying, " T h e British will disappear as antagonists if we organize ourselves to maintain the emirate structure," but the radicals within the organization felt that a two-pronged attack was necessary. The British were not the enemy except insofar as they maintained the emirs. "All we have to do is get rid of the autocratic structure, and the British will leave for lack of control or purpose." When the Kano delegates who had sought the politicization of the NPC were turned down by the December Congress, a regrouping took place. Still pushing for the same goals, seven members, led by Bello Ijuma, a Yoruba resident in Kano, decided to opt for a frankly political organization. Maitama Sule, a Hausa schoolteacher close to the foundation members, and the man who allegedly proposed the name of the party, reports that A m i n u wasn't involved as a charter m e m b e r of the Northern Elements Progressive Union (NEPU), but h e indicates clearly that A m i n u K a n o was an active consultant. "It was his brain that made it work and his courage that kept it going." M a i t a m a

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Sule himself was summoned to the governor's office with each NEPU pronouncement of a political nature, and was threatened with expulsion as a teacher. He finally gave up when he was accosted in the street, roughed up, and threatenend with further physical violence if he continued. "I couldn't stand the victimization," 6 he said much later ( 1 9 6 9 ) . He went over to the NPC when it eventually became political, and later rose to cabinet rank (Minister of Mines and Power). Aminu's role in the organization of NEPU was slightly hazy. As a government employee, what he did had to be done surreptitiously, in light of General Order 40 ( B ) which explicitly forbade government servants to take part in political action. Not until he left Maru several months later could he openly participate in NEPU activities and take over the dominant role in the party. Nevertheless, it is an open secret that he was deeply involved prior to that. His diary notes various meetings with NEPU people, and in his files a copy of an NEPU manifesto over his signature, dated 1949, was unearthed. The manifesto advanced eight basic principles, which not only were used for NEPU but were also advanced as basic principles urged upon the historic Northern People's Congress meeting at Jos in December 1950. Aminu, in his initial attempts to form an organization, even thought of forming a "Socialist Party of Nigeria" and wrote to the Independent Labour Party in England for help. Apart from these organizational endeavors, the impact of Aminu's ideas was felt throughout the region. He kept up a constant barrage of letters to individuals and to any newspapers that would print them. Among these were Dr. Azikiwe's Southern-based newspaper, the Comet, which had begun issuing an edition in Kano, printed in Hausa and English; Gaskiya, the government Hausa-language paper; and the English-language Citizen. Since they were the literate Northerner's only source of current information, Aminu sent his vigorous letters to all of them. His rash attacks covered a broad field, stopping at nothing. A letter 7 written from Maru in 1949, captioned, "Is the Government Awake or Asleep?", complained of administrative inactivity in the face of a drought that was gripping the region. "Is the government going to say, 'Let us wait until another year'? Why not dig huge [irrigation] wells if the Niger or Benue [rivers] cannot be utilized? The money? You could borrow it from

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England or [the] U.S. . . . Anyway, let the country see that something is [being done]." T h e only chance Aminu really had to travel through the region, attending meetings and organizing, was during the school holidays. After these trips he would return to M a r u and take up the struggle on a local level once again. But he never stopped burrowing. Once he returned to the school, his letter writing would start up again. At one point, every emir in the North, every important religious mallam, and many of Aminu's friends received copies of a communication questioning whether the Islamic religion permitted the emirs to accept specifically Christian awards f r o m Christian countries. More pointedly, he inquired whether the C.B.E. ( C o m m a n d e r of British E m p i r e ) award of the Cross of St. George, which had been bestowed on some of the leading emirs, should be worn. Since the emirs all fancied themselves religious leaders, one can imagine what a stir that created. The only responses came from friends w h o agreed that such actions were unacceptable in Islamic tradition, but the rumblings in the remote back rooms of palaces and government offices assumed the proportions of an e a r t h q u a k e — a n d Aminu had another demerit to his name. In Sokoto Province itself, Aminu came into his first significant contact with A h m a d u Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto, who was to become the chief proponent of cautiously and slowly maneuvering the established traditional rulers into positions of control in a modern society—and f r o m that vantage point, Aminu's arch antagonist. In 1943, the Sultan's court had convicted Bello of misappropriations of jangali, or cattle tax. Yet as a direct descendant of M o h a m m e d Bello, son of Dan Fodio, and as grandson of the eighth Fulani sultan in Sokoto, s the Sardauna was a potential choice for Sultan when the occasion arose. A n ambitious, young, educated, competent climber, he was a formidable antagonist in one of those traditional power struggles at the top of the ladder. T h e jangali trial was part of that struggle, and in spite of his total immersion in the traditional administrative apparatus, the Sardauna won his case by an unprecedented action. H e went above the head of the Sultan and appealed to the British superstructure. His resulting acquittal strengthened his hand. During this prepolitical period, A m i n u had been teaching at Bauchi and had been jumping into every controversy in which he felt

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a principle was involved. H e knew that the conflict between the Sultan and the Sardauna was moving along traditional lines, but he had two reasons for coming to the Sardauna's defense. First, the young man was being singled out for victimization, and, second, he was pursuing the goal of modernization that Aminu sought uninterruptedly throughout his life. The first meeting between the two to-be lifetime adversaries, was through the College Old Boys Association, the alumni association for Katsina and Kaduna College and the source of the bulk of Northern Nigeria's leadership. Aminu thought enough of the Sardauna's struggle at the time to contribute an inordinate proportion of his meager income toward a defense fund for him, a fact which greatly impressed the Sardauna. In the continuing rivalry between himself and the Sultan, the Sardauna recognized the rash young headmaster of Maru Teachers' Training College as a potential ally. Frequently, when passing the school en route to nearby Gusau, or to Sokoto, he would stop to visit and have tea with him. When, in turn, Aminu came to Sokoto as a representative chosen by his district to participate in a provincial constitutional conference (a procedure outlined by the then Governor MacPherson), he stayed at the home of Sardauna Ahmadu. It was on that occasion that the Sultan made one of several conciliatory overtures to Aminu. He sent one of his close councilors to invite him to a private audience; but since he didn't want this to be known to the Sardauna or anyone else, he asked Aminu to come at two A.M. On the night preceding this appointment, while Aminu was being taken to the Sokoto Middle School to deliver a lecture, he told the Sardauna about the impending meeting. When the Sultan heard this he was furious, and canceled the audience. This type of traditional rivalry at the top, exemplified by the Sultan-Sardauna conflict, had a religious aspect, too. Over the centuries, there have been interpreters of Islam who have gathered large numbers of followers around them and their interpretations, into sects that in many instances have crossed national boundaries and been carried on from one generation to the next. In Northern Nigeria there are two such major religious fraternities. The great Shehu, Usmand Dan Fodio was a member of a group called Khadiriyya, as are his descendants in the royal line of Sultans of Sokoto, their relatives and clients, and most Sokoto Province residents. The

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current leader of the other sect, called Tijjaniyya, is based in Senegal, but in Northern Nigeria its high priest has been the Emir of Kano; and consequently the area of Kano is a bedrock of this sect. Since the lines between religious and secular leadership in Hausaland overlap considerably, it is not surprising that a rivalry has grown up between the two groups. Many of the people of eastern Sokoto were Tijjaniyya followers, so that when Aminu arrived, the British, the Sultan, and his courtiers were concerned. They associated him with Tijjaniyya because of his Kano origins and worried lest his abrasive presence might arouse smoldering rivalries. This geographic, religious and sociological juxtaposition did give Aminu fertile soil for his attempts to politicize the backward north, but he was not interested in stirring up religious differences in the old style traditional areas of conflict. Nevertheless, a few years later, his party N E P U found great strength in areas like eastern Sokoto, that already had a history of simmering challenge to authority. In 1949 and 1950, however, politics per se had not yet begun, so that Aminu had to make his presence felt in other ways. He moved cautiously, planning step by step. He knew Sokoto history well, and guarded his moves. Though he joked informally with the laborers and local residents, he was a strict disciplinarian vith the students, regardless of their parentage—sarakuna or talakawa, high- or lowborn (a welcome change from past practices). He took them to salute and pay their respects to the village head, the district head, and the local alkali and then on Fridays, he and his teacher of religion, Abubakar Gumi, accompanied them to the mosque to pray. Usually the two men waited outside the building, but on one occasion during the rainy season they were forced to go inside. There they noticed that the imam who led the services was omitting the ablutions normally performed each of the five times prayers are said during the day. According to the ritual prescribed in the Koran, the exposed parts of the human anatomy—the hands, feet, and face—must be washed prior to each prayer session. When absolutely no water is available, one may place the palms of the hands on the ground, then shake and wring off the dust. Should no water be available on Fridays, one must stay at home to say the required prayers. But Aminu

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and Abubakar saw that the imam was merely placing his hands on the ground—this in the mosque and within easy access to water. When they confronted him with his ritualistic errors, he refused to alter his behavior, saying that was the way his father had done it. So Aminu, after careful consultation with his authority, Abubakar Gurni [some years later to become the Grand Kadi of the North (equivalent to an Islamic Chief Justice) ] withheld his students from attendance at the Friday service. The ensuing flurry of excitement resulted in a promise from the district head that the imam would either change or be removed. But when the boys returned to the mosque the following week, he was still repeating the same errors. The Chief Alkali of Sokoto, the Education Officer, and the Sultan himself were all consulted several times, but the only decision the Sultan could reach was that the imam could not (or would not) be moved because he was ill. Although this was no affair of the British government, since only the Sultan could appoint or remove imams, the British feared that a Khadiriyya-Tijjaniyya religious feud was in the making. They associated it with Aminu's Kano origins and though Abubakar Gumu was Khadiriyya and from Sokoto Province, wasn't he trained at the Kano School of Arabic Studies? Could Aminu be trying to displace the Great Shehu Usman Dan Fodio? The tempest raged, involving Kaduna central headquarters and the highest government authorities. It did not die down until Aminu and Abubakar Gumi devised an acceptable compromise: They would send the boys to the mosque, and do their own prayers privately, back at the school. Aminu felt satisfied that the Sultan's infallibility had been effectively challenged and that an individual's right to determine right from wrong had been established. This doctrine of free choice has represented Aminu's approach to religion over the years. He was religious because he was moral on a gut level, rather than because of an overwhelming belief in the power of the supernatural and the fear of retribution. As James Coleman puts it, he felt that, "Although Islam like Catholicism isn't necessarily conservative, the political elite used certain interpretations of Islam to impose—hierarchy—political deference and subordination." 9 And his profoundly religious background gave him the capacity to protest against these interpretations in an Old Testament style.

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Aminu related his religion to the welfare of man. His stated belief in God implies a gratitude for the good things in life, including an essential feature called isalah, or doing good for others (the group). To share is the highest goal. The ultimate in self-gratification, he feels, is self-denial for the common welfare. Although God knows what is right, it is incumbent upon man to be able to choose right from wrong, act accordingly, and find freedom and release in the correct choice. Armed with this enlightened approach to religion, he was able to apply it in situations where a religion rigidly imposed from above was used as a weapon of oppression. For every moral challenge, he could find quotations hidden away in the Koran and its commentaries to fortify his case. This knowledge, coupled with an indifference to self-aggrandizement frequently bordering on asceticism, usually made his case strong and unassailable. The primary weapon left to his opponents was repression and victimization, or perhaps derision. It wasn't until some months later that Aminu left Maru, but this seemingly trivial religious conflict and the Sultan's uncompromising reaction to it was influential in determining Aminu's ultimate path. Of course, the Sultan had once again stopped coming to the school, but he did make several tangential attempts at reconciliation, including gifts of native cloth for the education officer who was leaving, a cow for the students, and a turban for Aminu. These were all received politely, without any rancor, but the die had been cast. There was yet another explosive incident before Aminu left Sokoto. The Sokoto boys according to Mr. Spicer, 1 0 the Englishman who served for a time as education officer, were not as motivated as the Bauchi students. They were indolent and difficult, particularly those from the city itself, whose residents were stifled by a heavy cloud of religious and traditional conservatism. Since Aminu's clashes with the Sultan became easily evident to the boys in school, several of them felt they had to take action in defense of their traditional ruler. The action they chose was to complain to the Sultan that he was being abused in the classroom. They also refused the food served them by Abubakar Gumi at one point. In the ensuing conflict, Aminu proved that he had not spoken ill of the Sultan in class (at least not obviously). A strict disciplinarian, he insisted on

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dismissing the five students who participated. Two of them returned later, but Aminu had won his point. Why did Aminu leave Maru? Usman Bida, who had been a classmate of his at Kaduna, said it was his impression that Aminu was forced to resign. Similarly, Sule Katagum, a close friend of Aminu's who had once been his pupil at Bauchi, agrees. He feels that Aminu's ideas were incompatible with those of traditional Sokoto, and the education authorities simply put on the pressure. But whether he was forced to resign his last tie to the establishment or whether he arrived at this decision through his own free will and staunch decision, would that have altered the meaning of this decisive act? There is little doubt that he himself considered the choice his own. Notations in his diary in April and May 1950 reveal that his inner need to resign grew stronger and his course of action clearer and more determined. When the Deputy Director of Education for the North told Aminu that he could not be reappointed if he continued his political activity, Aminu noted in his diary, "All right, that's his problem. Mine is to resign by next year." Then on Oct. 12, 1950—"One can't realize difficulty arriving at a momentous decision until one comes to do so. Date still undecided. The 15th or 29th." Friday, Oct. 13—"Stand firm in submitting resignation on 16 Oct.! May God be with us all!" Fasted to dusk. (penny stamp was affixed in diary on 16th to mark it a red letter day) Sun Oct. 15—"Fasted all day to get greater moral courage . . . eighty-three letters to all parts of the world!" Oct. 16—"Resignation letter to education officer early morning —one month notice!" Nov. 1—"Farewell address to students. They collected 3 9 / 9 for me to buy souvenir—Hmmmm!" And finally, he wrote happily on Nov. 4, "Left Maru for the last time." Gaskiya published a short notice of his resignation with an accompanying warning to the country to watch this dangerous man carefully. On November 11, 1950, an explanation entitled "The Cause of My Resignation" was printed in Kano by the Daily Comet: "I resigned because I refuse to believe that this country is by neces-

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sity a prisoner of the Anglo-Fulani aristocracy—I resigned because I fanatically share the view that the Native Authorities . . . are woefully hopeless in solving our urgent educational, social, economic, political or even religious problems— "My stay in E n g l a n d . . . has hardened my soul in elevating truth, freedom and above all human rights for which the world fought off fascism— "I had twice been threatened with the merciless fangs [of General Order # 4 0 ( B ) ] . . . while all around are piled corruption, misrule, political bluff, slavery under another garb, naked nepotism, tyranny, poverty . . . unnecessary retention of hereditary parasites, naked and shameless economic exploitation. . . . "I cannot tolerate these things because of their awful smell. . . . "I am prepared to be called by any name. Call me a dreamer or call me a revolutionary; call me a crusader or anything this imperialist government wills. I have seen a light on the far horizon and I intend to march into its full circle either alone or with anyone who cares to go with me. . . . " T o these same suppressors of our people, I say this: 'Look Out! Africa is a sleeping giant no more! She is just about to shake off the stupor. . . .' "

-9-

Crusader-Politician

In January 1966, when Major General Aguiyi-Ironsi took over the reins of government from what was left of the leadership of the first Federal Republic of Nigeria, all political parties were abolished and remain so today. A discussion, therefore, of the birth, growth and demise of these parties would be superfluous, if it were not for the fact that the leaders and people who participated in the building of these parties during the pre-independence decade are still very much alive. When the time came for democratic rule to return, they again emerged into the political arena in one form or another. The movement for Nigerian independence which launched the political parties is no longer a factor—at least not in its original form. However, the leadership of tomorrow (those who will have survived) and the shape of political things to come will all bear a direct relationship to the dynamics and the political configuration of the 1950's, when these parties blossomed forth. When Aminu gave up teaching in November 1950, politics in Northern Nigeria was still in its birth throes. The first political party, the NEPU (Northern Elements Progressive Union) had been formed just two months previously. Aminu had not the faintest idea where his next meals would come from, but he was ready to start organizing a revolution from a point where there was hardly such a thing as organization and independent political action was verboten. In essence, he was undertaking not to lead a revolution, but to create one. T h e people had been totally subjugated to the autocratic emirate system for centuries, wherein a gathering of any kind, whether for acquisition of knowledge or for a wedding, needed the express approval of the emir. No protest movement had emerged since the 131

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great jihad of 1803 save a palace war here or there, in which a ruler or two may have changed, but not the ruled. There was fertile ground for change in 1950, however, both at the top and bottom. At the top there were some educated people, competent to assume leadership and aware of the need for it, but who somehow lacked sufficient courage, consistency, or sincerity of purpose. On the bottom there were undoubtedly people with these qualities, but they lacked organizational know-how and orientation. Aminu Kano seemed the only leader on the scene at the time willing to try to combine the two. T o the extent that this dual capacity was within him it was enhanced by his awareness of the gap between the old ways and the new, and by his continuing urge to speak to the people in their own terms. Emir Jafaru of Zaria summed it u p by remarking, "The damage done by Aminu Kano was to let the talakawa know they could say NO"—after generations of acquiescence. By giving up his teaching position, he was saying figuratively to anyone who would listen, that one could thumb his nose at the established order of things, do something about his fate, and yet emerge intact. He became a symbol of successful defiance for the young modernists in the cities as well as for a significant group of tradespeople and the talakawa, urban and rural. Instead of sullenly grumbling over their problems without the least effect, they now could hitch their star to Aminu and N E P U and dream and hope for some solutions. Aminu, on the other hand, consistently reaffirmed his confidence in the integrity of the common man. There were times when he saw only listlessness around him, but he continued to recognize the need for a leader figure who could behave in the spirit of their legendary ancestors—one whom they could emulate—and he saw himself as that leader. H e started with this deeply imbedded concept of the importance of charisma, modifying it somewhat as he was forged in the fires of organizing politics. Aminu left Maru, which was little more than a tiny hamlet, to return to the largest metropolis in Northern Nigeria—Kano. Historically, this thousand-year-old community had served as a trading center and distribution point for trans-Saharan caravans and traders f r o m all four directions. As far back as 1824, it was referred to by Captain Hugh Clapperton (supposedly the first E u r o -

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pean to enter K a n o ) as "the mercantile center of the whole country . . . and at least as important as Timbuktu." 1 Heinrich Barth in 1851 called Kano "this African London, Birmingham, or Manchester," and described "its clay houses, huts, sheds, green, open . . . pasture for oxen, horses, camels, donkeys and goats . . . deep hollows containing ponds overgrown with the water p l a n t . . . or pits freshly dug up to form material for some new buildings. . . . The people in all varieties of costume, from the naked slave up to the most gaudily dressed Arab." 2 If one entered the heart of Kano today, this might very well be what he saw. There have been changes, of course. The officially estimated population in 1933 was about 100,000 within the city walls, 320,000 within fifteen miles of the city, and over a million within thirty miles of the city. The year 1958 saw the addition of a modern airport; industries have flourished; hospitals and schools have slowly appeared. But back in 1950, as one approached the city walls one still saw the carefully tilled lands, farmed with guinea corn, millet, ground nuts, and occasionally cassava, onions, or rice. The thirteen gates that pierced the eleven miles of the broken down wall encircling the inner city were still standing, though some had already been widened to permit cars to pass through. Residence in the old town, within these city walls, was still segregated and restricted to local Hausa-Fulanis. The few Europeans and Asians ( 3 6 0 ) , and Africans from outside Hausaland (6,600) living outside the walls in 1933, had multiplied slightly in number by 1950. Railroad yards and tracks (built in 1911), police barracks, together with some sturdy stores and offices, were tied together by reasonably good roads. The heart of the city had (and still has) closely packed houses of mud, separated only by narrow alleys serving as footpaths, open sewers, and drainage ditches—wide enough to permit a horse, donkey or camel to pass, but not a car. Hundreds of stagnant borrow pits, large and small, dotted the landscape then as now. In addition, the emir and his subordinate pyramid of district, village, and hamlet heads, all chosen by him from hereditary aristocracy, have been unchanged over the century and a half of Fulani rule, notwithstanding the arrival of the British at the turn of the twentieth century. As has been pointed out in a previous chapter, the resort of the British to a "sole Native Authority" tended to

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centralize the legislative, executive, and religious powers of the emir and his deputies to an even greater extent than had existed previously. If anyone came in conflict with the law or the administrators, he was tried before the alkalis appointed by the emir. When the British arrived, though they eventually lost out, there were among them some who felt that their authority should not be shared with the emir through Indirect Rule. H. R. Palmer one of the strongest proponents of this thinking said "After all, the only friends we really have are the talakawa (common people) . . . The Fulani are only sojourners like ourselves. Why should they take the meat off the bone we have taken from them?"—and Aminu Kano wanted to give the entire carcass back to the talakawa where he felt it came from in the first place. Dr. John Paden in the conclusion to a paper presented at the University of Ife in 1968 said "In summary, the powers of the Emir of Kano probably increased overall during the colonial period . . . [though]—there was always the potential threat of deposition [by the colonial structure] ." 3 It was this city of Kano—with its cosmopolitanism, ethnic complexion, and Moslem sects—that produced Aminu Kano. It was this mammoth Goliath Aminu now proposed to tackle. In addition, he was taking on the approximately thirty other emirates that constituted the Northern Region. Even more, he had to deal with the establishment's desperate struggle to keep itself intact, to remain in power. It is difficult for a Westerner to realize how deeply the traditional society had penetrated into the total fabric, the very pores of every individual in it, but an understanding of this fact is essential if one wants to delve into the extent of Aminu Kano's challenge. 4 * Sarauta, or the inherited status of the aristocratic few, represented the core of the system, for control was imposed in this way: The emir appointed his judicial representatives (alkalis), his executive and administrative assistants from among particular clans, and a select few of these in turn chose the emir's successor, thus making for self-perpetuation. But there was flexibility, too, for a rigid and unbending society that made no allowance for change *M. G. Smith points out that in Zaria, one of every four compounds had an employee of the Native Authority Government.

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would not be likely to weather the many crises it undoubted faced over the years. 5 * The "Native Autocracy," as Aminu referred to it, hadn't waited for the '50's and Aminu Kano to prove its flexibility. In its past, it had permitted social movement for the ambitious within the prescribed classes, clans, and trades, at the same time ensuring that upward mobility was achieved more through clientage and personal relationships than through ability. An intricate system of patronage for both competence and loyalty provided the only way for a worthy man to advance—until modern politics entered the scene. Even non-aristocratic prosperous traders (attajirai) did not assume the expected stance of a bourgeoisie, so long as concessions were made to keep them on the side of traditional relationships. Most of them stayed within the limits of the predetermined class structure. The growth of marketing boards and their political control by the traditional authority fostered an interdependence, unlike Western development. As the traditional government in Northern Nigeria adapted itself to modernity, it became clear that a changeover to the democratic forms advocated by Aminu would be literally revolutionary, since in order to do so, power would have to be wrested from one class by another. He conceived that this revolution would take place by changing the old feudal, static society to a full-fledged modern state—and if this meant a deliberate mobilization toward rebellion, he was ready for it. He had the firm support of George Padmore, one of the really influential leaders of pan-Africanism and anticolonialism, first in England, then in Ghana. At one point Padmore quarreled with Kwame Nkrumah, his disciple and ultimate champion and protector, saying that N E P U was better organized for class struggle than Nkrumah's own party, the CPP. Therefore, he argued, the struggle for African independence should be based in Nigeria and that all funds for that struggle should go to the NEPU. This he •Professor C. S. Whitaker in a lengthy doctoral thesis deals with the interplay between the old and the new in Northern Nigerian politics, showing clearly how the system has adjusted itself so as to maintain power when under external pressure to change. He observed that "Those originally possessing political power might make 'creative adjustments'. . . in a way that would also conserve important traditional patterns. . . . We can now see, in the case of Northern Nigeria, how each of these possibilities was . . . manifested. . . ."

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confirmed after visiting Kano in 1956 and 1957 and after correspondence with Aminu. He felt that the Nigerian modernists were closer to the people and that, contrary to Nkrumah's approach, they attacked the chieftancy system directly. Aminu knew how difficult it would be to achieve his goals, for he never deceived himself as to the state of the North at that time. As he said later. "If by some miracle we were able to achieve a full-fledged democracy overnight, we would undoubtedly have to resort to the same class for administrative roles. They are the only ones sufficiently educated to take over the reins of government." 0 This realistic assessment was what kept him close to the people, in spite of his militant revolutionary ideals. Although he assumed that capitalist reformism could not produce the desired results and his struggle therefore included socialism, he, and subsequently the party he led, talked .with the people directly about specific issues, rather than trying to impose revolutionary, Utopian, and inconceivable goals upon them. The talakawa were not ready to receive an advanced ideology. Objective observers have all reported (whether favorably or unfavorably) that N E P U was most effective on local issues. And in many cases, though the leaders were unable to wrest consistent political control away from the vested interests, they did force concession after concession in the interests of the talakawa. Aminu's ideas about how best to accomplish this revolution underwent some change over the years, but in the 1950's they were fervent, clear, militant, and idealistic. On many occasions, he was accused of being too militant, but he never seemed to lose the masses by being too far ahead of them. Rather it was fear of, and loyalty to the traditional rulers that were his consistent enemies. His efforts at that time were directed first and foremost against the family-compact rule (perpetuation of royal and aristocratic dynasties), whereby a small group could continue its hold on the people, and secondarily against the British for retaining this archaic system. Aminu's own attitudes toward tradition accounted to a great extent for what success he was able to achieve in his approach to the tradition-ridden masses. While recognizing that it was basically harmful and against progress, he knew that it could not be swept away entirely. He and N E P U tried to make use of certain conventional attitudes rather than fight them, approaching each

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group within a community on whatever level they found them, in this way establishing rapport quickly and effectively. As Aminu said, "A bowl rotates faster at the top than at the bottom." 7 Their strategy depended on which portion of the bowl they were working. During Aminu's political years, when he knew he would face a hostile crowd in a conservative area where he might have been painted as a Christian, or a friend of Christians, he would begin his speech with the words of their own imams and mallams. Often when he used this approach he could see their initial hostility soften as they warmed to the ideas he expressed. Aminu put it, "One must scratch that part of the body or mind that itches." Whenever the people wished to group according to vocation, Aminu and his supporters helped them to form trade organizations, such as the NEPU Blacksmiths' Association and the N E P U Butchers' Association, in the traditional patterns. Although he recognized this as a compromise, he considered it a necessary compromise, with a purpose. He faced up to the enormity of his challenge with equanimity and decisiveness as though there were no other choice. Although Aminu entered the political arena with a reputation that reached almost messianic proportions, and although many observers consider the years 1950-1959 the most important period of his life, one cannot help feeling that the roadwork, the arduous day-by-day activities, were what made it important, rather than high-level decision-making, and the conscious implementing of a predetermined plan. The preparatory years were behind him, he had made his big decision to become a professional politician, and he now assumed his role as a mass leader, with the form and shape of his future clearly in focus. That is not to say that this period beginning with the organization of NEPU, and ending with Aminu's election to the Federal Parliament in 1959, did not abound in excitement, decisions, and crises. When Aminu arrived in Kano from Maru, he immediately set about his political tasks, reaching out in a dozen directions. His diary notes that he arrived on November 6, 1950. Within one week he had discussed the possible initiation of a Moslem Congress with a half dozen leading people; planned the organization of a new type of school; and chaired a meeting of NEPU. Before the month was out, he had attended a dance in his honor; lectured on indirect rule;

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received and accepted an offer of a full-time organizing job for the Northern Teachers' Association (of which he was general secretary) at the munificent salary of eight pounds per month; and launched the inaugural meeting of the Moslem Congress. He was a veritable windmill of activity, ending up a month and a half later, with the memorable December convention of the Northern Peoples' Congress ( N P C ) in Jos. That meeting was the scene of Northern Nigeria's first open confrontation between the forces of conservatism and radicalism. The majority of the Kano contingent, led by Aminu (finally free of the restraints of government service), advocated politicizing the NPC, either by declaring itself a political organization, or by accepting the newly organized N E P U as its political a n d / o r youth arm. The conservatives were determined to purge the organization of its radical element (namely, Aminu Kano, Sa'adu Zungur, and their followers). They used the nonpolitical nature of the organization and the large number of civil-servant members (legally forbidden to participate in political activity) as their rationalization, even though there is ample evidence to show that they too had begun to think in terms of reorganizing it as a political party. They advanced two alternatives; either the N E P U should disband or its members resign or be expelled. Before this question reached the floor, however, the agenda called for nominations for new officers. The radicals chose Aminu as their nominee for the office of secretary. Pandemonium broke out. The chairman lost control of the meeting and adjourned it until the following day. At a caucus far into that night, the radicals decided to withdraw from the Congress because the opposing group favored the emirs and wanted to protect the Native Authority—and incidentally because it became clear to them that they would lose all votes. Those who remained reaffirmed their desire to accomplish change without upsetting the applecarts of the emirs. All the members of the radical caucus returned home at that point, to await further directions from Aminu. Aminu had been busy on many fronts. When he returned to Kano, one of his points of concentration was the so-called lslamiyya schools. He knew that so long as obscurantism and mysticism surrounded the religion of the area, it would be very difficult to

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introduce modern government and modern institutions. Up to that time, the extent of his reformist religious efforts had been to sift through the Koran and its commentaries, hunting for those verses and sections that upheld man's search for knowledge, in order to show that the Islamic religion was not merely a dogma, static and conservative, but a guide to modernity. He pored through the Commentaries written throughout the ages all over the world, including those of Abdullahi, brother of Dan Fodio. He used his own liberal interpretations in his lectures and writings, but not until he resigned from government service did he have the time to pursue a more basic and longer range policy regarding religion, geared to the youth and the schools. He first tried to convince the leading mallams of Kano to update the teaching in the thousand or more Koranic schools in Kano Emirate alone, by introducing Roman letters and broadening their subject matter. When unsuccessful on this level, he suggested forming a Northern Nigerian Moslem Congress for the same purpose—which would be achieved principally through the organization of new schools independent of the Native Authorities. As always with Aminu, discussion led to action. H e persuaded men like Inuwa Wada (though this gentleman quickly fell away when "I lost interest because of the political leanings of the volunteer teachers"), 8 and anyone of influence he could find, to visit the mallams and gain their support, however reluctant. But he himself did not wait. He proceeded to set up the first such school, starting with about thirty (increasing to sixty) children of sympathetic parents. Among them was Hauwa, a five-year-old girl who was "given" to Aminu and Hasia by her admiring mother when they left Maru. They set out to prove that any five-year-old child educated by modern methods could in one year recite the Koran better and learn more Arabic than a similar child in an old-style school could in five years. In the second year, the three R's would be introduced alongside of Koranic teachings, making it unnecessary to transfer the child to the elementary school for that purpose. Aminu felt that a child so trained could read, write, and even interpret the Koran as he himself had done in his childhood. Each of the two or three teachers was paid only a pittance, but they were devoted and the results were obvious. H a u w a

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and many of her classmates learned their lessons even faster than children in the government schools, because of the additional attention and greater degree of commitment in a private school environment. The education officer who was invited to visit the school was so impressed that he integrated it into the education system. Within a year, about ten such schools were established in Kano, Kaduna, Jos, and other places. The founding group, mostly N E P U supporters, hoped to establish a Department of Reformed Islamic Education that would stand for "refining" rather than "defiling" Islamic education. Lawan Dambazau, a follower of Aminu and an able Arabic scholar, was made director of education. In the next few years, the establishment came to recognize the obvious political overtones of the schools and to accept their existence as a challenge. The broad mallam support that had been achieved was intimidated and fell away, and many school buildings were wrecked by anti-NEPu hoodlums. During and after the 1951 elections, they beat up some of the teachers, broke their signs, and browbeat the landlord of one of the buildings—with the active support of the emir and the passive support of the British. But the pioneering educational efforts continued. Even though only about two or three of the original schools remain today, there were from fifty to sixty throughout the North, and some were actually taken over by the government or the Native Authorities. By 1958, they had lost most of their political quality and Islamiyya-type schools, offering mixed religious and secular training, became an accepted form of elementary education. Many of the old-style schools adopted modern techniques—blackboards, tables, desks, and the teaching of the English language—and the higher Arabic schools now require a knowledge of the three R's for admission. Religion was so deeply interwoven into the fabric of HausaFulani society that Aminu had to adapt his politics to it at all times. In order to mobilize a cadre of followers for his political cause, he had to call upon a force within each individual, to supersede personal interest, for when opportunism was the dominant motive, the Native Authority path would undoubtedly yield them greater fruits. He analyzed Gandhi's success in lifting millions of Indians to a high level of dedication, and endeavored to adapt Gandhi's nonviolent

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techniques to Northern Nigeria. Miss E. P. Miller, a well-known long-time Christian missionary of the Church Missionary Society, living in Kano, observed Aminu in the course of applying these techniques and in his developing relationships with the masses. She concluded that, devout Moslem though he was, Aminu was the bearer of the cross of Jesus Christ, and referred to him as the "Gandhi of Nigeria." The two of them had warm feelings toward each other. Aminu visited her when she was alone, isolated, and going blind. She, in turn, worried about him in times of crisis. Even when taken ill in London, she continued to communicate with Aminu until her death. Though there were similarities, there was one basic difference between the approach of Gandhi and that of Aminu. When Gandhi spoke of satyagraha, or nonviolent resistance, (literally translated as "soul force"), he was thinking of its beneficial effect not only on the individual who employed this technique but on his opponent as well. He wanted people to make the world a better place to live in through the exaltation and uplifting of the self. Not so with Aminu. He also called upon people's better instincts, but at all times emphasized the group. He seemed to see asceticism as helping to achieve a political goal, but never really felt impelled to cleanse himself internally. Self-sacrifice was for the collective good, subordinating one's life to raising the economic and educational level of one's people. Security, even one's personal life, marriage, and children all had to be fitted into this guiding principle, and he did not hesitate to ask the same dedication of his followers. Satyagraha, as conceived by Gandhi, implied trust in the human nature of friend or enemy. " A satyagrahi is never afraid to trust the opponent. Even if the opponent plays him false twenty times, the satyagrahi is ready to trust him the twenty-first time, for an implicit trust in human nature is the very essence of his creed." 9 Aminu did not have such implicit faith in individuals. H e would be quite ready to forgive a man the twenty-first time, but far from ready to trust him. Yet he never harbored a grudge, for he tried to combat ideas, not people. When he took no action against political rivals, or breaches of ethics within his own party, it was because he always accepted the best in those about him. He kept hoping that eventually

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the best in them would become the dominant quality. Until then, so long as they supported the proper position, he would accept them again and again. If they never arrived, at least he would have had temporary traveling companions. Although it is said that Gandhi did not believe in self-denial or tormenting the flesh for its own sake, his life style seemed to indicate otherwise. He felt that the needs of the body were simple and that devoting time and emotional energies to rich living wasted the human spirit, in this way distracting the self from realizing its full potential. Aminu, on the other hand, arrived at self-denial by minimizing the self and maximizing the group. Since group achievement was the ultimate aim, pleasures of the flesh and self-indulgence became unimportant. To achieve political power was the goal. If that meant ignoring the body's needs, what did it matter? During the first years of N E P U organization, Aminu truly believed that nonviolent techniques were the most effective means of gaining adherents to its humanist cause. But he was never really a satyagrahi in the sense that Gandhi meant it. He was too much of a realist to trust implicitly the human nature of his friend or his enemy—or even himself. When he fasted, he was steeling himself for action, not improving himself by a denial of the flesh. After the N E P U office was opened, a group of young dedicated northerners gave up their jobs to run the affairs of the party. They had no salaries or any regular source of income, so they would pool the small one- or two-pound contributions. At lunchtime, they would go to any sabon gari (strangers' quarters) restaurant for a "fourtwo" meal—laughingly referring to the fourpence they spent for yam stew and the twopence for meat. Four-two became the name of their daily food allowance even after it reached the heights of seven shillings for married workers and five shillings for singles. One of these young men, Yahaya Sabo, reports that it was two years before he could manage to bring his wife to live with him in Kano. Thus they denied themselves not for the uplifting of their spirit, but simply because they had to. Aminu soon discovered that the N E P U rank and file admired nonviolence and self-sacrifice in its leaders, although they themselves did not adopt these concepts quite so readily. Many of the

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lesser lights in and around the party proudly tell of Aminu's patience with the talakawa, of how he would give alms to impoverished, dirty people, urge them to bathe and to launder their clothes—saving his anger only for occasions when the talakawa were victimized. One admirer related that when "A District Head in Gashua molested beat and even threw some N E P U supporters to the bottom of a well, Aminu suggested that when N E P U came to power, only good not evil be done to him, for if we do evil we are the same as they." Yet another recalled a similar incident in which N E P U supporters in Jos set upon some NPC people in retaliation for severe repressions against NEPU. Many people were hurt in the fracas. Ten days later, Aminu, passing through Jos, berated his sympathizers instead of praising them. Even if they had been victimized, he said, they should still leave such matters to the courts—and to the ultimate judge, God. Because their cause was just, they would ultimately triumph, without the need to take vengeance. Many more anecdotes of this type could be cited to illustrate this nonviolent approach that characterized the early phase of Aminu's N E P U activity, but when the violence, jailings and killings during the political battles of the 1950's raised the struggle to an unprecedented peak, Aminu openly told his followers to strike back. " T h e road to freedom is full of thorns and fire, yet happy is he who follows it!" And by 1961 Aminu said that "he who allows himself to be arrested for a crime he did not commit will be expelled from the party, but if he resists and comes to us on a stretcher, he is a hero."10 It is his political soul and the flexibility within Aminu that derived from it, that made him different from Gandhi, though they employed similar techniques. Integrity and humility were qualities they shared, with Gandhi's essential concentration on the development of the individual in the process of approaching the end, through abstinence, religion and nonviolence. To Aminu the crux was the goals; modernization, education—and national liberation—and the most effective way to achieve them was through the morality inherent in religion, abstinence and non-violence. This approach gave him latitude to change the means to "selective resistance" if this method proved more efficacious in reaching his goals without compromising them.

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Aminu started his life using Dan Fodio as a model; was influenced to a great extent by Gandhi in the early political '50's and then through pragmatism and deep understanding of his people, he was able to flex enough to survive the pre-independence and the First Republic period, to emerge as an effective force for the future without having made any basic compromises. The ties to his traditions and the Koran merged with his Gandhian self denial and his ability to apply modern techniques to the drive for power to yield the man that is Aminu today. As a youth, Aminu considered himself foreordained to lead his people out of the wilderness. H e couldn't seethe inwardly or erupt erratically and emotionally in the presence of injustice, for his outlet was in the doing. He was Moses, the man of action. Though he wanted and revered power in order to accomplish his destiny, he would not have it at a sacrifice of basic principle. We know the wind, not because we see it but because of its effect on us and the objects around us. We feel it on our faces, we see boughs gently bending, leaves fluttering, and we know the wind. So with a leader of men. What effect has he on those around him? Who is being blown? Who is being bent? When the wind that was Aminu Kano was beginning to be felt, some were just brushed; others will testify that a tempest blew in their direction. It is not his family and immediate circle of friends and associates of whom one speaks, but of those who at first knew him not, yet knew of him. Yahaya Sabo was a senior sanitary inspector in Lafia who had heard of Aminu through his friends in Bauchi. They had written and spoken excitedly of a teacher who spent most of his time with the students, as though he were one of them, and intimately discussed their future and that of their country. When Aminu came to the town of Lafia in 1949, to help organize a branch of the Northern Teachers' Association and of the Northern People's Congress while the latter was still a cultural organization, Yahaya insisted that he stay in his home. The visit and subsequent ones were short, only a few days at a time—just long enough for the bedazzled young men of Lafia to gather open-mouthed around Aminu while he explained the political process to them be-

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fore moving on to the next town. W h e n the first meeting of NEPU was held in the old El Duniya C i n e m a in K a n o , Y a h a y a was present, as he was at the next in K a d u n a , representing the Lafia branch. But his employer, the Lafia Native Authority, had refused him permission to take the necessary time off, and u p o n his return asked him for a signed statement explaining his absence. W h e r e u p o n he resigned to join the aforementioned " f o u r - t w o " club in the NEPU office in Kano, becoming one of the core of young m e n w h o a b a n d o n e d what they were doing to devote themselves to T h e Cause. T i m o t h y Monti, born in Jos of I b o origin, grew up a m o n g Hausas, played with them, and s p o k e their language. A f t e r achieving Standard VI at the age of thirteen, he went to work for two years in the tin mines near Jos. H e had a strong antipathy to the many injustices he saw all about h i m — t h e lack of education for all but a minute percentage of the children; the bowing and scraping of the peasants before their social superiors; or a f a r m e r carrying millet for 36 miles to give the emir his "share". W h e n he heard A m i n u being attacked by the authorities for his militant stand against these injustices, he realized that one did not have to accept his fate but could influence it. T i m o t h y still retained a feeling of kinship for the d o w n t r o d d e n a m o n g the northerners even after he moved to Lagos in 1953 to work in the Ministry of I n f o r m ation as a copy typist. It was through some friendly H a u s a traders in Lagos that he started to attend NEPU meetings each Sunday. H e rose quickly in the local b r a n c h , but did not meet his idol until he joined a large g r o u p of party faithful w h o gathered to greet A m i n u when he was passing through the city. H e too left government service for full-time politics, but didn't c o m e to the party leader's attention until he organized a mass rally in Lagos as assistant secretary general of the Western Region of NEPU. T h e police and all concerned feared they would be u n a b l e to control the large numbers of people, but T i m o t h y assured t h e m that his verbal appeals would d o the trick. W h e n he proved to be right, A m i n u congratulated him as a true leader and fine nationalist. T i m also told how ecstatically A m i n u was greeted at a NEPU convention in Jos, when the f a r m e r s and traders took a day off to greet him in a long procession to the house where he was s t a y i n g — just to shake his hand, look at him, or touch him. A f t e r a time,

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Aminu asked him to function as a sort of personal secretary, which he continued to do for several years with a deep mutual trust growing up between them. At the time of the disturbances in Kano in 1966, Tim functioned in no man's land, saving lives of Ibos and Hausas, for he was accepted in both camps. But tensions remained high enough to force him to leave immediately thereafter, not to return for a year or two. He lives in Kano now and remains a staunch supporter of the democratization of the North—and of Aminu. One other young man whose life was profoundly influenced by contact with Aminu was Uba Adamu in Kano. His personal testimony went as follows: 1 1 "I was first posted as a teacher while still a student in Form I, for the need was great. I met Naibi Wali, who introduced me to Aminu Kano because he thought we shared common views. Aminu's educational discussions were of such a nature that he became a god to me. He insisted on regarding me as a friend, and refused all manifestations of the respect due him as a mallam, such as prostration or the removal of shoes in his presence. I would rush to carry his belongings, or open the door, but he always rejected any submissiveness to him. "My admiration for him was necessarily a secret; for my father would never accept the relationship, nor would the people of Mandawari District, where I lived since I was an N.A. teacher. 1 didn't dare see him often, and then only at night, disguising myself with a blanket over my head and wearing shorts and singlet. . . . 1 remember that once he discussed how lightning was made, insisting that it was not the movement of angels lashing the clouds with their whips, as so many of us had thought, but the movement of air currents creating electricity and thunder. We listened to the radio, and he explained world affairs to us. One night he had returned from the emir's palace, where extended discussions took place regarding the badges marked Sawaba ( F r e e d o m ) , worn by the NEPU youth. He told us that the old mallams who were present had said it was unIslamic to wear badges made by non-Moslems. But, Aminu had asked, what about the Jew Yusuf, a prophet in Islam, who was given medals to wear by the pagan pharaoh? And what about the emirs who wore the medal of the British Order of St. George, and others? He laughed, and said the learned discussion ended when the leading

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mallam clenched his teeth and muttered his parting words to Aminu: 'I hate you!' " In Aminu's more detailed version of this event, he told of being challenged in an emotional fulmination by Mallam Nasiru and members of the emir's council, as a bagyawa—the Hausa-Muslim version of a heretic—for encouraging the wearing of the Sawaba buttons and for cooperating with Christians, in alliance against the traditional religious leaders. This was as serious a charge as a Christian heresy in the Middle Ages, and Aminu treated it as such. On the morning when he was summoned before the powerful emir's council to answer these charges, he performed the ablutions of a man facing impending death (last rites), as did the two lieutenants, Danladi and Lawan Dambazau, who were permitted to accompany him. Passions were running high and common sense dictated that they not go, but they did. Ignorance and lack of enlightenment were profound in these circles—and frightening. The palace was filled as they entered the inquisition chamber, dry-mouthed and apprehensive. Those assembled fell into a dead silence until the hearing began. The head of civil administration repeated Mallam Nasiru's charges. Before substantive argument began, Aminu pointed out that the charge was frivolous and that in any case the Emir's Council was not a debating society. The discussions, he suggested, should properly be held separately and the results reported back to the emir. All agreed, and a date was set for the argument. The large group in attendance at this second meeting included, among others, the civil administrator, the police chief, the madaki, the defendant Aminu, and his two advisers. No one was surprised when Mallam Nasiru arrived accompanied by two people, their heads and hands loaded down with all his reference books with place markers in the appropriate pages. But they were taken aback when Aminu disregarded Mallam Nasiru's books, choosing to defend himself in the common knowledge. Everyone knew, he said, about the defense alliance M o h a m m e d had made with the Jews around Medina. Wasn't this the same as the NEPU'S alliance with the N C N C ? When the current emir wanted to build the largest mosque in the North and called upon Ibo technicians to d o it, was that not an alliance? He had obviously won the argument even before Mallam Nasiru had

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a chance to present his evidence. Only after a compromise restricting the wearing of N E P U badges to mass rallies, rather than flaunting them in their residential quarters—in order to avoid provocation— did the frustrated Mallam Nasiru hiss his parting words at Aminu. Uba Adamu continued: "Aminu understood my enthusiasm for learning and greatly encouraged me to continue my studies, permitting me to use his precious library. I am of the Sulibawa clan, which, as you know, is royal. But my grandfather, who was a junior brother to the current emir's grandfather, fell into disfavor and was deposed as a district head. Now, with the decentralization, I am one of the three district officers (appointed by the governor, but to be elected after the Military Government leaves). Each of us is responsible for over a million people—and the son of the man who replaced my grandfather as district head is serving under me! . . . "Aminu is believed more readily than are other educated men, for he speaks to the people in their own language. And what cleanliness we have in Northern Nigeria can all be traced to Aminu Kano." Aminu, when queried as to why he tolerates gross inefficiency and ineptitude in a steward or driver, shrugged and said, "Here people must be trained if they are incompetent, not dismissed." It was through the propagation of these attitudes that Aminu and N E P U imparted enough self-esteem to the talakawa for them to refuse to do the free work for the emir which they had been doing through the ages. Political alignments and the violent struggles they created may have tended to blur Aminu's influence on his countrymen, but many are the allies and foes, students and teachers, royalty and talakawa who reflect deeply, in some shape or form, the indelible mark their contact with Aminu left upon them. Nor do they hesitate to speak of it freely. The wind blew strong and far. When Aminu the politician visited a town, Aminu the Islamic scholar was called forth. His reformism was both religious and political, attracting, among others, young students of the more progressive Koranic teachers. The party stalwarts felt that his scholarship could be well utilized in direct contact with the people through the Tafsir. This is the traditional process of translating the Koran from Arabic into the Hausa vernacular, with accompanying explanation and interpretation, and is usually done in front of a

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mallam's house at the time of R a m a d a n ( t h e M o s l e m m o n t h of high holiday a n d diurnal f a s t i n g ) . T h o u g h A m i n u originally u n d e r t o o k the Tafsir to offset the preachings of M a l l a m Nasiru, w h o taught that s u p p o r t of NEPU was a religious heresy, in A m i n u ' s hands, the Tafsir readings were rapidly extended to other towns he visited. Large crowds would gather to hear him, and he and his local adherents would r e a p the a c c o m p a n y i n g political by-products. In his interpretations, he would choose such quotations f r o m the K o r a n and the prophets that illustrated the concepts of morality that he and his party stood for. But it was people's knowledge of him through hearsay and his personal p e r f o r m a n c e that put t h e m in awe of him and caused them to greet him with ecstatic shouts of "Ame—ee—een!" — a n d reach out fanatically to touch him or a garment of his. At times it seemed more a crusade that he led than a political campaign. " W e taught the peasants to suffer for a c a u s e , " explained Aminu. " B e f o r e this, people would suffer unjustly, merely in the conflicts of private gain. Wc believed that if they were going to suffer, they should have a guiding p u r p o s e to see them through it." T h e old mallams had a different explanation for this p h e n o m e n o n of selfsacrifice. They simply said that the NEPUites must have swallowed some potion. Why else would they neglect their work for an ideal, when for hundreds of years, it had never been that way? L a w a n D a m b a z a u once said in NEPU, " W e are a party of those whose slogan is ' W e don't agree.' " T h e statement of the Emir of Z a r i a — t h a t the d a m a g e done by A m i n u was that he taught the talakawa they could say n o — h a d its literal application on one occasion. When addressing a Katsina audience, telling t h e m to resist the injustices of the Native Authority, A m i n u w a s asked, "If they want to k n o w who authorized it, what shall we say?" H e responded, "Tell t h e m that A m i n u said so!" A n o t h e r time, the town criers in the K a n o streets started an a n n o u n c e m e n t with, " T h e E m i r of K a n o salutes you. . . ." B u t b e f o r e they could go any f u r t h e r , the children interrupted with, " A m i n u K a n o said we s h o u l d n ' t accept!" A m i n u ' s songs, a n d those of others in a n d a r o u n d NEPU, extolled the virtues of self-sacrifice and c o n d e m n e d intemperance and high living, " P e o p l e of Nigeria, I call you to have d o n e with . . . greed, gambling, a n d drinking. . . . Follow NEPU; it is its aim to stop us f r o m living a life of pleasure, or relying on . . . a particular

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tribe. . . . Here is a ( m a n ) without covering; his evening meal is a mouthful of cassava. . . . H e does nothing but shiver." 12 The young girls sang their own song. Where they got it no one knew. "I was born to a sawaba, trained by NEPU, and am married to Aminu K a n o . . . ." Maitama Sule said: "Aminu is the hero of the oppressed and the talakawa, and the youths adored him, many secretly. He never used his position for riches, always for people. He is made that w a y . ' ' 1 T h e crowds of people who waited to catch a glimpse of him, or the many who jammed into his living room nightly to catch a few words of enlightenment, were living testimony to the adulation that hordes of people had for him—and Aminu the realist used this to try to build a people's political power through N E P U . The decade of the 1950's produced two warring parties in the North, the Northern People's Congress (NPC) and the NEPU. The organizers of both originated in the same small group of educated northerners; yet at the start neither of these groups represented the power structure. The Native Authorities, resisting all modern politics and wanting to maintain the status quo, saw no reason for any political organization. Only after the changing political format, with its challenge to the establishment, became evident to the N.A.'s did they realize that they could not retain their power without making some adaptations to modern politics. It was the formation of N E P U , followed by its immediate surge of strength in the North's first elections in 1951, that provided the impetus for its counterpart, a conservative political party. The electorate was to select the new government, and if the emir and his entourage were to retain power, they had to control the vote in some way. Constitutional reform had begun in Nigeria with the Richards Constitution in 1946, but this first move did little more than create a regional set up and the administrative forms to carry this out. In the process, the British, in order to win over the Sole Native Authorities to a parliamentary structure which the constitution set above them, had to guarantee the emirs control of the administrative apparatus. Obviously, a direct approach to the electorate could not be permitted, for the nationalists would very likely be able to gain control and wipe out the old autocratic forms. The only feasible approach, therefore, would be to accommodate the educated elite

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outside the N . A . ' s by permitting them to advance to higher levels of g o v e r n m e n t — b u t only indirectly, through the local government a p p a r a t u s . Nigerian m e m b e r s of the N o r t h e r n Regional Assembly would simply be appointed by the traditional leaders. In this way, the s a m e lack of significant alternatives to the clientage system which h a d d o m i n a t e d H a u s a society in the past would continue. This typically British approach to the introduction of indigenous self-government in the North was responsible to a considerable degree f o r the indirect but subservient role played by most of the N o r t h ' s educated non-aristocrats in the NPC. T h e hue and cry against this and other onerous provisions set up by the R i c h a r d s Constitution led to a scrupulous reappraisal by the new governor, Sir J o h n M a c P h e r s o n . Consultations took place at every level t h r o u g h o u t the nation, lasting two years and ending with the previously mentioned elections of 1951, held in a few urban areas in the N o r t h . Until then, the N o r t h e r n H o u s e of Assembly, at that time only an advisory body, was made u p of men like the S a r d a u n a of Sokoto, A b u b a k a r T a f a w a Balewa, M a k a m a n Bida, a n d a host of other representatives of royalty and aristocracy, all appointed by the local emirs. T h u s , the emirs and their appointees still held the real power, disdaining both NPC a n d NEPU and not wanting to soil their hands in any relations with the young upstarts, cultural, political, or otherwise. Imagine their shock in September 1951, therefore, when NEPU a n d its ally, NCNC, swept to victory in seventeen out of the the twenty-six seats contested in K a n o , and won similar victories in Zaria, Jos, K a d u n a , a n d every other area opened to the electoral process. Of course the British had guarded against the possibility of d e f e a t for the traditional authorities. They had m a d e the election a three-tier indirect process that permitted the emir's appointees to outn u m b e r the elected delegates at the last tier, in this way completely excluding all opposition f r o m the H o u s e of Assembly, victorious or otherwise. This obviously unfair state of affairs was duplicated at a lower level f o r a long time thereafter, even after local r e f o r m s h a d b e g u n ; f o r when segments of local councils were elected, they were permitted to f u n c t i o n only in a limited fashion. T h e district heads continued to act with o r without the sanction of these councils, and

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development funds were made available to them only at the N.A.'s discretion, depending on the traditional status and personal standing of the particular district head. This power dominance had a profound effect on the political fate of the North and the country as a whole. Despite the tremendous popularity of the anti-establishment approach of Aminu and NEPU, it gave the traditional rulers a chance to adapt themselves to approaching self-rule. "The red light is showing. May its warning be heeded before it is too late," said the "nonpartisan" Nigerian Citizen on October 25, 1951. Without bothering about any of the formalities, the powerful Sardauna Ahmadu Bello and by this time his chief lieutenant, Tafawa Balewa, hastily joined with the pliable leadership of NPC to declare the organization a political party overnight. On September 30, 1951, almost immediately after the election, the British Chief Secretary of Government in Kaduna (a Mr. Gobel) came to the home of Isa Wali, then the assistant secretary general of NPC, and demanded that he turn over all the records. 1 4 When Isa protested that he could not do this unless it were so voted at a meeting, he was told that he was no longer eligible for membership in this political organization because he was a government employee. Yet not until an NPC meeting was held one year later was this decision formalized and the Sardauna installed as vice-president—and this a short nine months after the NPC had rejected the NEPU adherents for demanding the very same thing. Aminu posted an indignant letter to the senior resident of Kano pointing out that "A mass rally of over 15,000 souls [taxpayers] . . . adopted some very strong resolutions, . . . [declaring] the last stage of the election null and void and earnestly wishes you to make an . . . immediate review." He and NEPU promptly attempted to show, through mock elections conducted in an orderly fashion, that direct elections could work even if adopted immediately, NEPU and its friends collected enough money to send Aminu and an accompanying lawyer to England to plead their case before the British Parliament and the general public. Through the intervention of Thomas Hodgkin, a scholar and teacher, and John Collins, a minister in St. Paul's Cathedral, they were able to have tea with sympathetic mem-

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bers of the House of Lords, meet Fabian MPs, and generally create enough of a stir to be noticed and finally heard at a meeting with the British Secretary of State. It was this issue of direct elections that set the stage for the political battles of the 1950's, for here began the really severe repressive measures against NEPU. New rules sprang into being immediately. A gathering of more than ten people was an "assembly," regardless of its purpose, and required a special permit, frequently denied. N.A. police instituted wholesale arrests for any who attended N E P U meetings, since these rules were applied only to the political opposition. The NPC became an open arm of the law, and the law an extension of the political party. "The NPC would work hand-in-hand with the Department of Adult Education of Gusua to avoid duplication/' 1 5 Hundreds of N E P U sympathizers were jailed for "disrespect" or for calling their political opponents abusive names. Many were imprisoned for wearing party badges or shouting party slogans. Children were arrested for singing N E P U songs or writing the letters N E P U on their garments or on the walls of their homes. Hoodlums roved in the dark, beating up N E P U sympathizers. Gambo Sawaba, a N E P U women's leader, was beaten by six men and left lying in the bush for two days before N E P U protests led to her discovery by the police. The alkali courts were free of any restraint, imposing prison sentences a n d / o r strokes with a cane with impunity, since no audience or members of the press were permitted to observe the legal proceedings. All that was needed to prove guilt under Moslem law was to produce two witnesses with acceptable testimony, and no appeal to higher courts was permissible in most cases. 16 When these repressive measures were coupled with the pressures of the traditional clientage system permitting a person to advance through loyalty and patronage on one hand, and the denial of jobs and basic rights to the disloyal on the other, the results were effective, as might have been expected. Usman Bida, whose friendship with Aminu extended back to 1937-1942, when they were classmates and friends in Kaduna College, told Aminu that he could no longer see him when he came to Bida, because of Usman's relations with the emir. Haruna Dan Birni felt close to Aminu and

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NEPU, yet under intense pressure he resigned from NEPU to become president of the Kaduna NPC chapter—though he continued to maintain discreet contacts with NEPU people. It was almost a religion for Aminu and his cohorts to sacrifice for the party in those years. Large groups of people were learning how to break down walls and the process was full of the pleasure of adventure for the participants. Yet the people who turned to NEPU in 1951, and were victorious, found themselves still completely excluded from the power structure by the full force of the deeply entrenched Native Authorities. In large part, the NEPuites responded to this tyranny bravely. Although Aminu tried to inculcate the principles of nonviolent civil disobedience in his followers, he succeeded to only a limited degree. Many of them listened to his sage advice not to resist the overwhelming state power—and many did not. Political street battles were not uncommon, and in some instances the resistance was active and aggressive. The repression included the aforementioned Islamiyya schools and involved women and children as well as men, but the struggle continued. A group of hooligans supporting the NPC organized the "Yam Mahaukata" (Sons of M a d m e n ) , with semiofficial sanction, to fight against "southern dominance." They subsequently extended their terrorism to a group of NEPU adherents who taunted and disparaged members of the traditional hierarchy when they left Kano airport for the 1953 Constitutional Conference in London, NEPU retaliated with a "Positive Action Wing" ( P A W ) , to defend themselves against the hard-hats of their day. ( T h e Yam Mahaukata wore wooden, or "akushi" hats; the PAW, calabash helmets.) According to NEPU sources, wood signifies death and calabash life. 17 When one member of the Shehu of Bornu's household was killed in an interparty street fight, the next day six members of the opposition party were killed in retribution. Aminu told his followers one of his father's parables to strengthen their capacity to forbear. It was of the tyranny of King Solomon's time, when the city of Tadmur was being built by jinns. When they complained that twelve hours of labor per day were too taxing, their chief reassured them that they still had twelve hours for rest. After their workday was increased to twenty-four hours,

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he pointed out that when they carried stones to the site they returned empty h a n d e d . But after Solomon required that they return the unused stones to the original site, the chief finally said that it was time for G o d to intervene. Within a year Solomon died, the building of T a d m u r was a b a n d o n e d , and the jinns had permanent relief. In the struggle t o o u t m a n e u v e r the opposition, security information b e c a m e i m p o r t a n t . A m i n u h a d extensive contacts within the c a m p of the traditionalists. M a n y aristocratic relatives and friends secretly s u p p o r t e d him, willingly conveying information, but were unable to openly b r e a k their ties with the hierarchy. O n e royal young w o m a n within the palace walls, referred to as " O t o m i , " after an Indian c o u n t e r p a r t during the Spanish occupation of Mexico, was greatly dissatisfied with the marital arrangements m a d e for her. She gladly bore information of value to the N E P U people, until, after a series of misadventures, including a flight and imprisonment, the emir finally canceled the arranged marriage and permitted her to marry her loved one. International recognition of the intensity of the repression in his h o m e l a n d came when Aminu projected it while in England at every opportunity he could. Fenner Brockway, a L a b o u r M P , said in P a r l i a m e n t on N o v e m b e r 4, 1 9 5 3 : " A t the L o n d o n Conference, M r . A m i n u K a n o was one of the most helpful participants; yet he had gone back [to] find m e m b e r s of his party being imprisoned . . . beaten u p by gangsters. . . . I ask . . . the Colonial Office . . . [to] secure that minority parties in that country, and particularly in the N o r t h e r n Region, shall be guaranteed political a n d civil rights." This international presence created by A m i n u through letters, his protest visit in 1952, and his attendance at all the constitutional conferences, served only as a slight restraint on the N a t i v e Authorities w h o w a n t e d their excesses to be kept under cover. T h e violence that characterized the period erupted in yet another f o r m in 1953. T h e M a c P h e r s o n Constitution that had set u p the indirect electoral system in the North in 1951 also established a central H o u s e of Representatives in Lagos. Its m e m b e r s were similarly chosen, i.e. indirectly, by the Northern, Eastern, and Western H o u s e s in the ratio of 2 : 1 : 1 — a s the North was at least as p o p u l o u s as the two southern regions combined. A n t h o n y E n a h o r o , a leader of the Western Region's d o m i n a n t party, the Action G r o u p , moved a

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resolution urging self-government for Nigeria by 1956. The northern NPC parliamentarians, led by Sir Ahmadu Bello, Sardauna of Sokoto already the acknowledged traditional leader of the region, felt that the backward north would be overwhelmed by the south if selfgovernment came too soon. They amended the resolution to read "self-government for Nigeria as soon as practicable." This created an impasse, a walkout of the N C N C and Action Group legislators, and an atmosphere of interregional antagonism. The northern members were stoned in the streets and generally subjected to abuse by the Lagos crowds as well as by the southern press. They responded with an eight-point program that, if attained, would have been tantamount to the secession of the Northern Region. The southern leaders, attempting to muster support for their "self-government now" proposals, undertook to send delegations throughout the North. In the midst of all this tension, one such delegation, led by Chief Akintola of the Action Group, scheduled a meeting in Kano, the northern metropolis. Kano's NPC leaders and the local authorities regarded this move as provocative. Inuwa Wada, at that time N.A. information officer, set a xenophobic tone the day before the scheduled meeting by saying, "Having abused us in the south, these very southerners have decided to come to the north to abuse us . . . We have therefore organized about one thousand men . . . to meet force with force; those men will [be] singing and shouting that . . . no lecture or meeting will be delivered by the southerners." 1 s With such an inflammatory response it was not surprising that riots broke out in the streets of Kano, ending only after thirty-six persons had died (fifteen northerners and twenty-one southerners) and 241 were wounded. 111 Curiously, though, Aminu and the N E P U stalwarts who had actively and openly supported the shorter route to self-government proposed by the southerners were not subjected to attack. Nor were the Yoruba (Western Nigerian) residents of Kano City who supported the Action Group and Akintola, the leader of the southern delegation. The brunt of the Hausa ire was directed against the more numerous and more vulnerable Ibos (centered in the sabon gari, or strangers' town). This eruption of ethnic intertribal rivalries, and the uneven social and educational development that accompanied it, led ultimately to a regionalized compromise for the nation:

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dropping the federal "self-government n o w " d e m a n d s in order to achieve unity. T h e relative influence of political differences and of intertribal or cultural antagonisms on this K a n o upheaval has never been accurately determined. T h e r e is little doubt, however, that the retention of old autocratic and a r r o g a n t forms of government lent itself readily to such violence, since the Native Authority itself invoked the same m e t h o d s against its primary challengers, the NEPU and its local allies. Historians will no doubt find it fascinating to c o m p a r e these disorders with those of 1966 preceding the civil war, but that for the future. Suffice it to note that the Y a m M a h a u k a t a , organized about that time, proved very useful against their local antagonists. Officially sanctioned violence in suppressing opposition was characteristic of the decade of the 1950's. Of course it might have resulted in such turbulence and disorder that the regime would have toppled, but the more likely concomitant was to so weaken the opposition as to render it almost totally ineffective. A n d if at the s a m e time the establishment had welcomed back into its folds of patronage and clientage any defectors f r o m the rival c a m p , its tactics would have been that much m o r e likely to succeed. This dual approach finally did erode the cadres of the opposition, frightening the r a n k a n d file into sullen submission and at least t e m p o r a r y acceptance. Built into this process, however, was the very f a c t o r that brought about the eventual downfall of the regime: the polarization of monocentric regions, with area of origin, rather than ideology, creating the differences in parties. T h r o u g h o u t this travail, A m i n u succeeded in maintaining an almost unbelievable balance on a very sensitive scale. Relationships had to continue with allies w h o could be trusted only to a limited degree; with antagonists whose differences had to be exploited; with friends a n d enemies whose position could change like shifting sands, depending on the attraction of the bait dangled in f r o n t of them. If any individual was ready to offer his h a n d , no m a t t e r how sinister his prior role, A m i n u was ready to accept it. T h o u g h he carefully concealed key information f r o m new allies, he c o o p e r a t e d with anyone w h o would accept the NEPU p r o g r a m . This a p p r o a c h h a d its drawbacks, such as the loss of five of the eight NEPU F e d e r a l

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MPs elected in 1959, when they crossed the carpet; and constantly shifting relationships, alliances, and sectional leadership. But it also preserved some continuity of internal leadership in the party, and in relationships with the more progressive wing in the NPC, the opposition party, and the NCNC, NEPU'S southern ally. Each of the southern parties became dominant in its own region, with a hierarchy of leadership fairly well established. Nnamdi Azikiwe ( " Z i k " ) led the NCNC in the East, and Obafemi Awolowo ( " A w o " ) led the Action Group in the West. With Awolowo, Aminu's relationship was for the most part rather distant and formal. They did spend time together on board ship on the way to the London Constitutional Conference, and Aminu on one occasion slept in Awo's home while en route to Lagos, but their contacts were mainly political. Since they never really saw eye to eye in this respect, they remained somewhat aloof, with no personal antagonisms ever flaring up. On the one hand, Awo thought N E P U too radical and that it should be eliminated; on the other, he and his group made a constant effort to woo N E P U away from its alliance with NCNC by offers of massive financial or political support. (At one point NEPU'S intelligence staff found that the Action Group was trying to get rid of Aminu.) From Aminu's point of view, their attempts to win N E P U away from its NCNC alliance were based not on ideological grounds but on their greater affluence, and if successful, they would have denied NEPU'S independence of action. This personal nonrelationship between Aminu and Awo continued into the military era where for a period of time they served as fellow cabinet members. The channels remain open but relatively unused. With Azikiwe it was quite different. The two first met in Bauchi in 1946 when Zik was touring the North for the NCNC. Aminu's friend and political associate, Sa'adu Zungur, introduced them. Zik was well known as leader of the nationalist forces of that day, and he in turn knew of Aminu's growing reputation and his vitriolic pen. They met again in London in 1946 and 1947 and on other occasions, and developed a liking for one another through Aminu's youthful exuberance, and their common ideas. In 1954, when an alliance was formed between N E P U and NCNC, they saw each other at executive committee meetings. Although it too was essentially political, their contact was closer. Aminu knew Zik's writings

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through his chain of newspapers and respected them. Their stated goals were essentially the same, with Aminu defending Zik when he was under attack for financial irregularities in intraparty factional struggles or otherwise. He felt that those who opposed Zik had no legitimate ideological differences with him but did so only as part of a power play. However, after self-government was finally achieved, and Zik took over as President of Nigeria, Aminu felt that the softening up process had deepened sufficiently to be irreversible. Zik had run out of steam. By the time the first coup took place, in 1966, Zik had been compromised beyond the point of effectuality. For him the presidency of the nation became a sort of semi-retirement from nationalist activity. The active reins of party administration and decisionmaking were taken over by Michael Okpara and his company of diehard, crude, pragmatic politicians, lacking ideological direction. The opportunist trends which crept into party affairs, thereafter, greatly affected the N E P U - N C N C alliance, with Aminu's initial reservations strengthened. He retained an independence of movement that permitted him to support one faction or another on the basis of the controversial issue involved, without committing himself to the faction itself. For instance, his support of the Western leaders Adelabo and then Adisa in their intraparty struggles never committed him totally to either of them. Thus he stuck to his support of the NCNC alliance despite misgivings, but never submitted to its dictates. His special concern for the development of the North, and realization that this was not the orientation of the NCNC led him to act independently whenever he felt that the integrity of the North was threatened—as in the Cameroons plebiscite in 1959 when a segment of the North chose to continue within Northern Nigerian bounds or in a 1958-1959 dispute over whether Ilorin should be included in the Northern or the Western Region. Aminu's influence in support of northern unity served to good advantage in both these instances, even though the NCNC supported the West's jurisdictional claim to hegemony in the Ilorin case. In spite of this orientation, however, Aminu became something of a hero in the East, the bastion of NCNC; for his consistently incorruptible stance was universally recognized by idealists and radical

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youth throughout the nation. As leader of their northern allies' struggle to displace the bastion of reaction in the North, they adored him, and admired his unquestioned oratorical powers. Nevertheless his party's constituency was Northern and his influence in the Eastern and Western Regions had to be manifested through alliances a n d / o r pressure at the top. This deep-seated concern of Aminu for northern development was recognized by all who encountered him in the course of the political wars, whether on his side or no, from the Sardauna on down. Even when they intermittently found themselves in opposite camps, men like Joseph Tarka, Tiv leader of a non-Hausa minority in the Northern Region's Middle Belt area, never questioned Aminu's devotion to the cause of democracy. After the parties eventually closed ranks under the banner of the Northern Progressive Front (NPF) in 1964, and subsequently in the Military Government, Aminu's ideological consistency emerged inviolate in the form of a united opposition party in the North. As Tarka put it, "Though reaction is still strong in the North today, Aminuism is beginning to triumph."- 0 Sa'adu Zungur, his closest political confrere of the 1940's, had left the problems of the North in Aminu's hands and from 1948 to 1951, ventured out as federal secretary of the NCNC, in search of a national solution. But he became disillusioned with the NCNC when the scholarships it had pledged to northerners (Aminu among them) never materialized, and when its role in building an opposition party in the North was ineffective. He continued to work in the NPC for a short time after NEPU came into being, but his friendship and respect for Aminu soon brought him into the NEPU camp. There he functioned mostly in a passive, advisory role, leaving organizational matters to Aminu. His health deteriorated rapidly, until he finally died in the arms of his first, traditional wife, who had been chosen by his parents. Aminu never cut off any channels of communication regardless of who was in the sending or receiving station. This permitted a strange kind of ongoing relationship between him and the traditional rulers, either on the regional or the emirate level. If he had a proposal that he felt would aid his people, and that had even a remote chance

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of being accepted by the administration, he would not hesitate to write or visit the appropriate party. This approach would disarm the individual authorities involved, and force them to respond in kind. Tradition in this respect was maintained, even in in the face of great antagonisms. Anthony Enahoro, Mid-Western leader who was a fellow commissioner of Aminu's, recalls his impressions of Aminu in that earlier period: " H e seemed to be very much a northerner, principally concerned with liberalizing the Islamic influence and eliminating the more conservative interpretations of Koranic life. . . . Although opposed to the NPC, he was in the coalition government with them at the center, and a Whip. We who were in opposition found it difficult to understand his reconciliation of these conflicting positions, but it strengthened our impression that he was concerned primarily with reformation of northern society."- 1 This juxtaposition of consistent opposition to "the more conservative interpretations of Koranic life" with rejection of the personal antagonisms that would normally accompany such a struggle puzzled many southerners, and even northerners. In the early political years, during a visit to the Sardauna, Aminu asked him for a much-needed typewriter. "But am I to supply you with a typewriter with which you will attack me?" asked Sardauna. Aminu replied simply, "Yes. You have the wherewithal, I haven't." The Sardauna acquiesced, to the perplexity and distress of many of his more traditional followers, as well as many of Aminu's. Since most northern political leaders were graduates of Kaduna College (or its predecessor, Katsina College) and were drawn from a select group of the highborn, there must have been an element of loyalty among them, akin to that of fraternity brothers. During his student days, Aminu was the one among them who had always dared; the others stocd back and secretly cheered him on—and were still doing it. In a general way, the NPC divided itself into two groups—with Aminu to a certain extent as the dividing line. Those who remained friendly with Aminu were polarized around Federal Prime Minister Abubakar Tafawa Balewa; the others gathered around the Premier of the North, Sardauna Ahmadu Bello. The former group was more enlightened and more ready to accept reforms and change; the latter agreed to such change only under extreme duress and with the

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express permission of the Sardauna. Of course, when the Sardauna cracked the whip, most all of them fell into line, but the divergence was ever present and occasionally took more overt forms. The progressives for the most part shared Aminu's goals, but hoped to achieve them through gradual and socially acceptable means—or, in some instances, admittedly in such a way that their personal comfort would not be upset. There were men like Sarkin Bai, who in Aminu's eyes would perhaps have been as radical as he, if he had been able to shed the influences of the family and clan dependency on him; and there was Waziri Alhaji, who, after a rapid rise to an executive post in the private world of United Africa Company, felt he could no longer mix with his NEPU colleagues and could better accomplish his lofty goals in the NPC. Aminu warned him he was going into the mouth of the tiger and would be swallowed, but he ignored the advice, went into the NPC, became an M P and a minister, and appeared little different from the others within his party. Nuhu Bamali, eventually Nigeria's Foreign Minister, was an early friend and associate of Aminu's, dating back to the 1940's. He chose the NPC way from the start but remained on close, cordial terms with Aminu, much as did Maitama Sule, the former Minister of Mines and Power, and the Prime Minister himself. Ideologically, Maitama Sule was considered close to Tafawa Balewa's thinking in the Federal Government, and was therefore persona non grata in the Sardauna's camp. When he could, he tried to be a kind of moderator between the two camps, frequently in a jesting way. But at one point, when Sardauna opened old wounds a bit by indirectly referring to him as a slave, Maitama responded in kind. When Sir Ahmadu visited Adamawa, his mother's home province, Maitama called to mind the Sardauna's maternal slave lineage by gathering together twenty unkempt, bare-breasted women to present them to the exalted one as his NPC admirers. The implication was clear. Men like Inuwa Wada, former Minister of Works (incidentally a relative of Aminu), and Bello Dandago, MP, his former teacher in Kano and later chief government parliamentary whip, didn't hesitate to come to Aminu for advice or consultation. Inuwa Wada had found himself in the Prime Minister's corner by dint of the Sardauna's traditional running rivalry with the Emir of Kano, for Inuwa's primary loyalty was to Ciroma (Crown Prince) Sanusi. When the Ciroma

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became Emir of Kano in 1953, he actively feared that Aminu was out to depose him. Inuwa, who had remained friendly with his cousin, by some inexplicable coincidence was excluded from the Northern House of Assembly. After this rather forceful reminder of his clientage position, he found it necessary to cut off all social intercourse with Aminu for a decade. In 1963 when the Northern Regional Government, led by its premier, the Sardauna of Sokoto, succeeded in having Emir Sanusi deposed, Inuwa beat a path back to Aminu's door posthaste, apologized for his years of self-imposed social indiscretion, and vowed never again to close his door on his worthy relative. Since then, things have gone relatively smoothly between them. Although some of the people around Aminu did not agree, he seemed to think that if Inuwa could be separated from his associates he would perform better; of course, he did not. During the 1950's, Aminu was concentrating on what he considered the just grievances of not only the talakawa but the educated non-royal elite (a sort of petty bourgeoisie) that would benefit from breaking out of the feudalistic confines of monarch, palace, and the accompanying royal intrigues. These people were mainly traders or lower ranking civil servants. They wanted to "do their own thing," intrigues or otherwise. Some few of them did break the pattern completely, but they were few and became part of the middle rung of N E P U leadership. The remainder clung to the NPC, hoping to do what they could from that safe vantage point. Publicly they attacked Aminu's party and tactics, but privately they remained on cordial terms. In this way they provided him with a link to the party which served as the chief governmental barrier to the achievement of the radical political power he sought throughout his adult lifetime. Aminu's relationship with Sir Abubakar, the Prime Minister, and Sardauna Ahmadu Bello, the Premier of the Northern Region, until their deaths in 1966 was even more complex than their fellow NPC leaders. In a symbolic way, the following story sums it up: During the Independence celebrations, Aminu entered the Sardauna's house to pay his respects. The waiting room was filled with MPs and Ministers of State, all seated on the floor, awaiting the arrival of the exalted one. When the regal Sir Ahmadu finally arrived, he surveyed the room and saw Aminu, the only one seated in a chair. He pulled up a little hassock near Aminu, sat down, and

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commented with a smile, "You know, Aminu, we're not all progressive like you." Aminu replied, "But you obviously are the more progressive, for you are able to accommodate yourself to everyone, even me." A few minutes later, Prime Minister Abubakar arrived, removed his slippers, and sat down on the floor! Not wanting to embarrass the Prime Minister or to show him disrespect, Aminu felt impelled to leave at that point. Sardauna Ahmadu sent one of his household servants upstairs for the usual parting gift, shook his hand, and bade him goodbye. In his classic study of this three-way relationship,-- C. S. Whitaker analyzes the class origin of each man, how it affected his position on the political spectrum and his attitude toward the role tradition should play in it. The Sardauna was royal; Abubakar was of slave origin, making him part of the monarchical clientage system and consequently beholden to it; and Aminu was independently aristocratic, outside the power structure. Therefore the first man defended the traditional status quo, the second tried for slow, moderate reform, and the third for radical reform. Although this key observation establishes a framework within which each man functioned, it still does not completely explain the intricacies of their relationship. There are many persons of Northern Nigerian origin who do not fall into this pattern. Even though it may be said with validity that personal development is affected by class origins, obviously individual personality played an important role as well. As we recall, Aminu's path crossed the Sardauna's as far back as 1944 when Ahmadu was under attack by his cousin, the Sultan of Sokoto, for embezzling the jangali (cattle tax) entrusted to him. In their second major contact, during Aminu's stay at Maru in 1949-1950, so long as the Sardauna was locked in struggle with their common foe, the Sultan, their alliance continued. However, class differences crept in shortly thereafter. The Sardauna decided to fight his battle on traditional lines, vying for dominance within the emirate structure—here parting company with his erstwhile ally, Aminu. Thereafter the Sardauna rose to the pinnacle of power in the North, adapting the old autocratic emirates to new forms only when he was assured of the safety and continuity of the royal heritage.

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Fremont Besmer, a young ethno-musicologist doing research for his doctoral thesis among the musicians in the emir's court in Kano, reports a brief song-poem that he uncovered in his studies, reflecting the on-going relationship between A m i n u and the Sardauna. G o and tell the lizard [ A m i n u ] T o get up on the wall, A s I see over there A cat [Sardauna] looking for him. Aminu pointed out that he never objected to the Sardauna's strong hand, only to how he used it. The fear people had of him, his personality and his prestige, all could have been used for liberation, education, and d e v e l o p m e n t — a n d were not. Although both manifested strength, each used it differently—Aminu's toward changing the class structure, A h m a d u ' s toward maintaining it. With the growth of the two opposing parties in the North and these two heading them, the contacts between them became more and more sporadic. A m i n u would usually initiate them, either to complain of some repression or injustice wreaked upon his supporters, or merely to pay a courtesy call o n Sallah or s o m e other appropriate traditional occasion. They met on state occasions and at various constitutional or governmental conferences, but the oneto-one meetings between them were minimal. T h e Sardauna had developed a growing fear that the southerners were out to assassinate him, and A m i n u was suspect because of his southern connections. Even when the Sardauna wanted to speak to A m i n u about his struggle to depose the Emir of Kano, he received him in a room with six ministers present. If he had private words to utter, he would pull A m i n u into a corner out of earshot of his disciples. A s the years went by, the Sardauna retreated more and more into religion, using his power to solidify his own traditional position and that of the system he represented. W h e n A m i n u accused him of political motivation in 1 9 6 5 , during Sardauna's proselytizing tour of the North, he was hurt and angry, for he evidently was making a genuine bid for religious glory. A t times he openly hinted that he thought of achieving an even higher position than he h e l d — f o r him,

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the highest position in the land, that of Sultan of Sokoto. As Northern Premier, he conducted himself in a grandiose fashion, bestowing lavish gifts on all around him, even Cadillac automobiles when the occasion called for it. By the 1960's, he was frequently referred to as "Sarkin Arewa," or "Emir of the N o r t h , " 2 3 and his dress and whole demeanor bespoke this status. H e thought of himself as the modern-day Usman Dan Fodio and said, "I too will divide the country between my two trustworthy lieutenants when [my jihad,] the current political battle, is over." This was uttered in Bauchi, the home of Prime Minister Balewa, as he bestowed an alky abba (traditional cloak of authority) upon the Prime Minister with the words, " T o my lieutenant in the south."- 4 Thus he looked upon Abubakar, with Aminu assuming the role of a persistent monkey on his back. He himself was the personification of the old regime with all its trimmings; someone whom Abubakar had to skirt around to accomplish anything progressive. The fact that he and Abubakar were of different schools of thought, as well as different castes, was well known to all. T o get anything done either Abubakar had to have the cards so stacked that the Sardauna was outmaneuvered; or he had to convince him that a move was necessary and would not upset the essential traditional relationships; or else he had to comply with the Sardauna's wishes. Since Abubakar had the highest official position in the land and was ostensibly running the Federal Government of Nigeria, jealousies and inconsistencies developed, with the more progressive-minded administrators and politicians grouping around the Prime Minister. All, however, were subject to the same traditional restraints, and deferred to the political "boss" when a direct conflict arose. At times, Abubakar was able to take action contrary to the desires of the traditional authorities, particularly when the British supported him. His first such courageous act was back in 1950 in the Northern House of Assembly, when he made his famous speech urging reforms in the North. The speech itself expressed essentially the British position and was far from radical, although it evoked angry remarks from the traditional authorities about his lowly ancestors. He assumed the stance he was to keep throughout his political career: "I do not wish to destroy, I call for r e f o r m . " 2 5 Aminu and the group around him applauded the action, since legislative

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spokesmen for progress were few in those days. Throughout the difficult, repressive years of the 1950's Aminu continued the warm friendship with Abubakar that had begun during their teaching days in Bauchi. At no time did they approach political agreement, nor did they even try to persuade one another, for they instinctively recognized a difference in basic orientation; but they shared a mutual respect and trust at all times. They avoided discussing national or international affairs even after Aminu took on a role at the U.N. and other international conferences. Abubakar felt that at any level, in any post, Aminu would always function in the interests of the nation and the North. Apparently he never permitted himself to believe that severe repression was going on in the North, so that when this fact would seep through to him, he was sorely distressed. Once he was moved to intervene in behalf of an important member of the Bauchi royal family when he discovered that the gentleman had been jailed by the Emir of Gombe. This he did even in the face of open abuse and identification as a N E P U sympathizer by his own supporters. Abubakar's confidence in British solutions to Nigerian problems continued unabated from the days of the Bauchi Discussion Group on through Independence. Aminu laughingly told of stopping in Lagos to bid Abubakar goodbye when he was en route to Tunis to the All-African Peoples' Conference held there in 1960. Abubakar insisted that the conference was canceled, for he had been so informed by Interpol and Scotland Yard. This even though Aminu informed him of a conversation with Diallo Telli just prior to his departure—that all was going as originally planned. Aminu took the trouble to cable the Prime Minister from Tunis, "Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here." Abubakar, although the highest official in the land, never truly felt comfortable with his political bedfellows, for most of them were of aristocratic or royal birth and did not hide the fact. That may be one reason why he remained on such good terms with Aminu, continuing in a quiet way to heed his words, at times even modifying his conduct accordingly. It was felt that at least some of the jealousy and friction which existed between the two top NPC leaders stemmed from the Prime Minister's continuing dialogue with Aminu. Since Aminu was a Member of Parliament and the ruling

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coalition government from 1959-1964, and a leader of his party, it could have been assumed that he would eventually get a ministerial post. The fact that he did not was generally attributed to the Sardauna's veto. Abubakar's ambivalent position, however, led him to explain lamely that if he appointed Aminu to a high post he would be accused of buying off the opposition in the North. One of the most ironic and tragic aspects of this complex relationship developed in 1966, two weeks before the first military coup when Aminu, in private audience, warned Abubakar that he must remove Akintola, Premier of the Western Region, because he no longer had the confidence of his people in a very explosive situation. The whole nation would blow up if Akintola were allowed to stay. Although it is generally thought that Abubakar, in his hesitant way, wanted to move, evidently he was restrained by the Sardauna. Both Abubakar and the Sardauna were killed in the coup. Sule Katagum, Chairman of the Federal Civil Service, estimated that "Inwardly, Abubakar was delighted that Aminu could come out openly for more advanced ideas, serving as a spokesman for the less outspoken adherents of the same ideas—even though he himself could never openly support t h e m . T h i s was part of Aminu's charisma. Many junior and senior civil servants felt the same way as Abubakar, but could do nothing about observed injustices except tell Aminu about them and hope he would raise the issues. Once Timothy Monu told Aminu that he had seen the Sardauna bang his head while entering a car, because he did not bend low enough. Thereupon Aminu made another one of his noted prophecies. He said that a man as haughty as the Sardauna, if he remained Premier, would be dead within a few years. . . .And so it came to pass, though it must also be said, that Aminu did not predict the same fate for the mild-mannered Prime Minister, ever compromising or being compromised. Abubakar, Ahmadu, and Aminu—the three A's. They represented the three ideological angles of the triangle that was Nigeria; One looked toward autocracy, where leadership was inborn; one to meritocracy, the rule of the educated worthy; and the last to democracy, where leaders were chosen by the led . . . an echo of the American colonial heroes Adams, Jefferson, and T o m Paine. 2 7 Although these Nigerian leaders have passed from the scene, this conflict

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between the three corners of Nigeria's eternal triangle continues. T h e n there were the few intimates of A m i n u . Since most of his associates in the N E P U c a m e f r o m an educational a n d sociological background markedly different f r o m his, it was not surprising that only one of his three close personal friends was active in the party. A m i n u has been accused of being too secretive, a loner in decision making, but to the extent that there was consultation, he of course turned to his political associates. For relaxation, however, and perhaps a degree of personal confidences, he turned to one of these three who seemed to give it best: A h m a d u T r a d e r in K a n o , Sule Katagum in Lagos, and Aliyu A b u b a k a r wherever and whenever they met. A h m a d u T r a d e r played a protective role in A m i n u ' s household. H e looked after all the m u n d a n e affairs, and assumed responsibility in A m i n u ' s absence. H e saw that the automobile was serviced, the driver cared for, and the bills paid. If permission was needed for A m i n u ' s wife to m o v e f r o m the c o m p o u n d , if party chores needed doing or if mail had to be posted or picked up, A h m a d u was ever present. Nevertheless, his relationship with Aminu was far from servile. Not only were his reliability and devotion deeply appreciated by A m i n u , but they spent m a n y an hour together, planning, preparing, or just chatting. T o a degree, A h m a d u had risen f r o m a simple but prosperous trader to a sophisticated politico and m a n of the world through great personal effort and ability. H e gave generously to the N E P U cause, even as his business fell off because of his personal associations and beliefs. H e suffered much abuse a n d was jailed two or three times, but s o m e h o w seemed to take it all in stride. They drifted apart during Aminu's last years, because of what Aminu considered a partisan approach on Ahmadu's part toward members of his household, but they were reconciled shortly before Aminu's death. Sule Katagum, C h a i r m a n of the Federal Civil Service C o m mission, represented something quite different to A m i n u over the years. Sule had been one of A m i n u ' s prize pupils at Bauchi M i d d l e School, and h a d led the highly successful student strike there. T h e two h a d remained as friendly as logistics and careers would permit. Sule chose the path of civil service and A m i n u politics. A m i n u would stay in Sule's h o m e when he c a m e to Lagos (until he b e c a m e an M P a n d had his own h o u s e ) , but m u c h of the time they f u n c t i o n e d h u n d r e d s of miles apart a n d saw each other sporadically. W h e n e v e r

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they managed to get together, though their ideas were undoubtedly on the same wavelength, Sule—tall, handsomely dignified and imposing looking, must have done the listening, since political participation was denied the civil servant—at least that is all that either of them admit to. Later, the period of military government brought them even closer together, for at that point, politics was denied to all, and Lagos became a city of residence for both. The third intimate, Aliyu Abubakar, played more the role of an old chum who for decades was in and out of Aminu's life. When they saw each other, they swapped stories of what had happened since their last meeting, and reminisced about the time when Aliyu unearthed a report by a British officer that Aminu was revolutionary, a deliberate instrument to topple the Imperial Government, and about the old days generally. Aliyu, a professor at Ahmadu Bello University in the North, has been a student or teacher most of his life, accumulating a roster of degrees probably unsurpassed by any Nigerian. Aminu had always urged him to continue his studies, and it was largely through his influence that Aliyu took a daughter of Abubakar Tafawa Balewa as his bride. They were always able to joke and laugh together, and let their hair down. But the persons with whom Aminu came into contact most often were his fellow NEPuites. "A man is a bundle of relations, a knot of roots," said Emerson. Assumedly, some of Aminu's associations are through the branches and leaves of his life as well, but the ties with his open supporters were undoubtedly of the deep-rooted variety. In discussing Aminu's inner party relationships, Maitama Sule commented as follows: "Aminu is of eminently superior intelligence, and rigidly demanded the kind of concentration and devotion he himself gave to the cause . . . perhaps causing him to look down on people somewhat. When this was coupled with a reluctance to bare his mind freely, it might have separated him from his lieutenants and made him somewhat suspect." 2 8 In part, it may also explain why so few lieutenants of top stature were developed during those political years. Many observers have been puzzled by Aminu's inability to develop a qualified cadre of leaders. Consider, however, that Aminu was the only university-trained leader in the National Executive Committee; that over the years there were never more than two men in that body who had completed secondary school; and even

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more surprising that, as the party developed over the last half of its existence ( 1 9 5 8 - 1 9 6 5 ) , from 65 to 75 percent of its top leaders were illiterate. 29 What is startling, then, is that the N E P U leadership functioned as well as it did. Indeed, its paucity of leadership showed up some years later, when the Gowon Military Government sought out former NEPuites for local state leadership, and so few were found who were actually qualified and available. Though the party started in the early 1950's with a number of mallams, students, schoolteachers, and even minor N.A. officials, they were rapidly frightened or bought off by the highly ascriptive, rigidly controlled society of the emirs. Mallams associated with N E P U lost their pupils; farmers or their families were hit by selectively high assessments and taxes on their land; N.A. officials were sacked; all explaining why so many members of the NPC, the party of the emirs, were secretly sympathetic with NEPU. Again Aminu was daring, while others secretly cheered him on. Those who remained in the party were an isolated, dedicated band of self-sacrificing but untrained leaders. As the slow and arduous process of training picked up momentum, the leadership dominated by Aminu, frequently had to face the problems of defection, inadequate methods of administration, and frank misappropriation of funds. This led to the curious phenomenon wherein leading N E P U members would be placed on trial, found guilty, and yet would be back on the job shortly thereafter. The dearth of leadership merely emphasized Aminu's earlier philosophy: dereliction requires further training, not dismissal. Open the corral gate to the sheep who has strayed, if he wishes to return to the fold. In some instances, misappropriated funds were returned, but more often the incident was simply closed. In the attempt to keep NEPU'S ideology as the unifying force, Aminu encouraged the young and competent to educate themselves and work their way up from the ranks. If such men emerged, the entrenched leaders felt threatened and had to be placated. Factional struggles emerged from time to time, accompanied by personal jealousies and bitterness. At no time was Aminu's dominant role at the head of his party seriously challenged, though some may have eyed his position enviously. Rather, there was a jockeying for position below this pinnacle and a vying for his favor.

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In 1954, at the national convention in Lafia, a segment of the leadership attempted to change NEPU'S alliance with NCNC to the Action Group. Aminu pleaded with his members that there were no ideological reasons for the change. If they allowed themselves to be seduced for a mess of pottage, would they not do so again, when enticed by other more alluring bait? At Aminu's insistence, a secret ballot was held guaranteeing free choice to the entire national executive, regardless of any bribes previously accepted. The vote was 74 to 11 in favor of retaining the NCNC ties. The eleven members who lost, left the fold after unsuccessfully attempting to take a significant segment of the rank and file with them. Some went over to N P C , putting great strain on Aminu and NEPU'S inadequate cadre pool. This drain on the sorely tried leadership continued when more tangible electoral victories were not forthcoming over the years. It was even further accelerated when Aminu became a Member of Parliament, a position that frequently removed him from the scene of active day-to-day party leadership. The family needed the strong hand of the father to prevent squabbling. Abubakar Zukogi was an early adherent of the NEPU. In fact, his agitation for popular reform actually predated the party, for he was one of the founding members of NEPA (Northern Elements Progressive Association), precursor of the NEPU. Though of royal rank, he remained consistently opposed to the autocracy of the North— this in the face of intense pressure from the state, including four years' imprisonment (1954-1958). He was generally considered, and considered himself, the number-two man in the party. His highly personal approach to his position of leadership made him somewhat difficult to work with, especially when the more promising younger men being educated and trained for leadership came upon the scene. Two among those with the greatest prospects, Tanko Yakasai and Yahaya Abdullahi, clashed with Zukogi and each other at various times, but all eventually remained loyal. These internecine struggles were not ideological, with the one exception of Tanko Yakasai's unsuccessful attempt to inject a militant pro-Chinese influence into the party, after a visit to that country. "When a person like Tanko showed his ability to rise above his lack of education, to learn English and administration, or when someone like Yahaya Abdullahi appeared with both competence and education, the loyal older and more entrenched but possibly less capable

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m e m b e r s naturally felt t h r e a t e n e d , " explained A m i n u . H e continued, " Y a h a y a ( a n d others like him in the p a r t y ) sacrificed by giving u p his government position to join us, with nothing else to fall back on but his ideals. His indiscretions were those of inexperience. T a n k o was indefatigible and w o r k e d day a n d night without pay or reward. If we encourage young people like these to stand u p and fight, we must stick with them. Zukogi and T a n k o are now commissioners on a state level, and Y a h a y a A b d u l l a h i is making his way up in the E x ternal Affairs office. Where would they be today if we h a d rejected them?" A m i n u was always ready to conciliate the party's internal financial irregularities, unlike his insistence on publicly expelling Isiaku G w a m m a , a NEPU leader, when he publicly proposed a bill in the Northern H o u s e of Assembly that would finance the p u r chase of automobiles for all its members. Outside party ranks, consistently rigid discipline was necessary though conciliation after censure was permissible. Despite these personnel difficulties, there were other NEPU leaders, like Y e r i m a Balla and Y a h a y a Sabo, w h o did manage to avoid factional differences and maintain sober voices in the inner party councils in A m i n u ' s absence. A m i n u tried to stay above the in-fighting, stepping in only when the question of ideological purity arose, or when an irreconcilable internal problem d e m a n d e d judgment f r o m a court of last resort. T h e esteem in which he was held, whether because of his educational status, his patrician b a c k g r o u n d , his competence and integrity or as is probable, a combination of all of them, was sufficient to permit h i m to sustain this lofty position. P e r h a p s the gap between him and the N E P U members, leadership or r a n k and file, might explain the seeming p a r a d o x of a m a n , universally accepted as a lifetime devotee of democratic procedures both inside and outside his party, w h o f o u n d himself chosen as a lifetime President-General. A m i n u ' s associations with the southern and northern Nigerian leaders and the rank a n d file; his friends and antagonists, intimate and peripheral; his political affinities and divergences have all b e e n discussed to some degree in this chapter. O n e group, however, h a s not yet been m e n t i o n e d — t h e British officialdom. In the 1940's, they considered A m i n u to be a promising, if somewhat rash a n d impulsive, lad whose abilities might b e steered into "constructive" c h a n nels. T o them, this m e a n t getting him to f u n c t i o n within the e m i r a t e

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system and concomitantly, to slow him down. With the organization of NEPU, and the discarding of all vocational restraints by resigning his teaching post, Aminu became the leading ogre of the North, to be watched carefully and isolated to the extent possible. The British continued to hide their own activities behind the long, flowing robes of their local cat's-paws, the emirs, but when Aminu bypassed his local targets, the native autocrats, and struck directly at the puppeteers, they responded accordingly. In 1954, in a speech to a mass rally reported in the Daily Comet (a friendly newspaper and the only one published in K a n o ) , he attacked an agreement signed in 1886 by the Queen's representatives of that day, the United Africa Company, and the Sultan of Sokoto. According to this document, United Africa evidently was to receive royalties in perpetuity. But Aminu reasoned that since it was written in English, it was fraudulent, for no Englishman at the time spoke Hausa and certainly no one in the Sultan's entourage spoke English. There must have been intent to deceive, he maintained—an imperialist maneuver to take away the rights of the Hausa-Fulani people. The police deemed this attack seditious and arrested Aminu and the editor of the Comet. When Aminu was taken to the magistrate to be arraigned, the procedure was simply to read the charges, fix bail and accept payment; then to release him on his own cognizance. As he was leaving the preliminary hearing, looking forward to his impending courtroom adventure, an N.A. policeman seized him and took him to the local Chief Alkali's Court, to slap on a second charge; behavior likely to cause a breach of peace; namely, flying a party flag on his car, a privilege heretofore reserved for the emir and the British Resident. The scene in the alkali court was breathtaking in its day. There was Aminu, standing upright, fully shod, while all others present had removed their shoes and were prostrated on the floor in front of the alkali. The three witnesses had apparently been very hastily briefed for when Aminu insisted that they remain within the courtroom until the hearing was completed, to avert consultation, they were unable to identify him. They had never actully seen him before. Nevertheless, the alkali left to confer with the Senior Political Officer, and returned with a verdict of guilty. But he also reported that he had been advised to restrict Aminu's sentence to three days! Aminu was

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whisked away quickly, leaving the hooligans gathered outside the courtroom little time for anything but hooting and hissing. In the jail, the short-term convict lived on tea boiled by a friendly prisoner rather than try to eat the abominable food placed before him. The chief jailer, embarrassed, offered to smuggle him out at midnight and feed him at his own house. But Aminu turned him down, saying the emir would be furious if he found out. The period of incarceration was brief, but the caged bird found time to sing out: "The smell of the prison house is a perfume to me. . . . [It is a hallway] through which one has to pass before achieving victory against imperialism. They may laugh at us now, but their laughter is only for a time. Forces . . . are working fast to overthrow them. . . . [We must] never falter, meander or submit, but go straight ahead on the road to freedom." 3 0 By tradition, a released prisoner was supposed to go directly before the emir to pay his respects, but Aminu informed his captors that as of that day this convention was broken. Whereupon the chief jailer drove him through a hostile crowd to the safety of his own Sudawa quarter. Years later, when musing about this incident, Aminu felt that the punishment would have been much more severe had it come a decade later, during the federal elections of 1964, for by then the fear and antagonisms of the northern leaders were much more intense. The second trial, in the British Magistrate's Court, lasted ten days. Policemen came from all over to guard the surrounding area. There were eleven defense attorneys, nine from Lagos and two from Kano. Within the month that elapsed between the arrest and the trial, the case had become a national issue, resulting in a show trial of gigantic proportions, unprecedented in the North, with tumultuous crowds milling about in the streets outside the courtroom. About sixty of the police, including women wardens, had entered Aminu's compound, forbidding those within it to move, and removed all his papers. In the courtroom, the witnesses merely had to state that in their opinion the effect of the newspaper article was seditious. The weaknesses and paucity of the evidence angered the magistrate, but after two days of deliberation, he returned a verdict of guilty. The sentence—four months or fifty pounds—was intentionally limited, to

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permit Aminu to participate in the elections later that year. H e chose to pay the fine. Following the federal elections and less than six months after the first two trials, came yet another trial. This time a ten-line Hausa song poking fun at the NPC ministers and MPs was once again adjudged seditious. Aminu was accused of writing the poem and he and the man who had printed it were tried. When his battery of lawyers pointed out that there was no evidence that Aminu had even written the poem, and that it had actually been written by one Abba Maikwaru, he was acquitted. Throughout the social and political explosion that developed in the early 1950's, and Aminu's leading role in it, it was not surprising that his personal life took second place, and suffered thereby. The first and most meaningful thing in his life, the upgrading of the talakawa and the masses of the North from their ancestral yoke, was a man's job and he figured he was the man. Even though one of his particular goals was the liberation of women, with the accompanying extension of the vote to them, achieving it was essentially a man's task. If perchance one woman managed to escape the state of total subjugation in which Hausa-Fulani women found themselves, she could hardly be very effective against the centuries-old concepts of respect, deference, modesty, and their "proper" place. So, Aminu and NEPU busied themselves at the bottom of the political ladder up which both men and women had to climb: granting women the right to move freely about, outside their compounds; extending the vote to them, as had been done in southern Nigeria; and giving them the all-important right to education. One woman leader, Mallama Gambo Sawaba, was trained in NEPU'S School for Propaganda to head up a women's wing, formed in 1953 in Kano. But the restrictive social milieu with which she had to deal was clear when she was arrested, along with about two hundred other women—the first of several arrests. The severe limitations which women themselves placed upon their own activities reflected their lack of political sophistication. For example, at a conference of the women's wing in 1958, their demands for the vote were coupled with a resolution asking for a "law prohibiting women from smoking in public." 3 1 Aminu's thorough knowledge of the North told him that if they ventured beyond a minimal platform, they ran

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the risk of alienating large n u m b e r s of potential allies a m o n g the tradition-steeped northerners, male or female. W h e n c o m p a r i n g his own public position on the role of w o m e n with that of his cousin and close friend, Isa Wali, A m i n u is quick to point out the difference in their respective roles. Isa, a civil servant who breached the social barriers, was pnswerable only to those in the civil service and perhaps the emir. A m i n u ' s constituency was vast, including large segments of the poor, superstitious, and uninformed who had to be a p p r o a c h e d , not in direct, shocking confrontation, but through a gradual educational process. T h e y would perhaps more readily understand and accept an advocacy of a more advanced social role for themselves, he explained, if it c a m e f r o m one of their own, a Western or locally educated woman. T h e loose H a u s a - F u l a n i family ties, permitting children to leave the household in their early years, coupled with the accepted marital pattern of polygamy and easy, frequent marriage and divorce, enabled northern traders to leave h o m e for extended periods without unduly upsetting their households. In his political activities A m i n u followed the same pattern. Although he encouraged m o r e equitable relations between h u s b a n d and wife a m o n g those a r o u n d him, he evidently had neither the time nor the inclination to devote any significant part of his life to altering it. C r e a t u r e comforts a n d satisfying family relations were sacrificed on the altar of his greater social and political drive. His time had to be devoted to b r o a d e r causes than his own interpersonal affairs. Apparently, his relations with H a s i a suffered such a fate. H e felt the conditions which any wife or wives of his faced were quite clear f r o m the start. If these conditions were unacceptable, his wife was free to go elsewhere. This did not m e a n grievances could not be aired, since he felt that discussions of this sort would be uplifting, and give the wife the dignity she otherwise lacked in H a u s a l a n d . Within these limits, A m i n u tried to m a k e marriage as c o m f o r t able a n d productive as he could for his wife. When his p r i m a r y pursuit was teaching, in B a u c h i and then in M a r u , he had m o r e time for Hasia and a personal life. But when he gave up teaching f o r politics, he went the whole hog. H a s i a was settled in his old family c o m p o u n d in Sudawa and almost immediately began to register dissatisfaction.

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Aminu became quite unavailable to her, either in Kano or on the road, but this was further compounded by a mother-in-law problem —certainly not made easier in a polygamous society. Though Aminu's father was monogamous, Tasidi, his wife at the time Hasia moved into Aminu's household, was anxious to establish herself as uwar gida ("wife in charge of the house")—Hasia, bright and by this time educated beyond most women of her day, was stealing the center of the stage, teaching the women (and men) the three R's, and was unwilling to delegate her household independence or responsibility or to be dominated by this jealous mother-in-law. Tasidi fixed upon Hasia's childless state to give vent to her venom, caring little how loudly she shouted or how many neighbors were within earshot. If Hasia couldn't produce a child, she declared, Aminu should get a number-two wife. If he refused, let him divorce Hasia. Aminu could keep away from the shrew, but Hasia could not. Thus she went to her own mother's household and refused to return, resisting the entreaties of her mother, Aminu, and assorted friends. Hasia had actually come closer to sharing her husband's life than did most Hausa-Fulani women, but now Aminu's soaring interest permitted him little time for participating in family squabbles or even for arbitrating them. Their culture permitted separation with little upheaval. His concern for her welfare, however, continued even after she left the household. Hasia herself testifies that when he had insisted on getting her a job to utilize her education and secure her future, he was only displaying the compassion that was an innate part of his character, and wasn't especially reserved for her. They both remarried shortly thereafter, but within a month or two after Aminu's third wife joined his household, she was stricken with smallpox and died. A year later, he was married once again, this time to Shatu, but through it all he never lost touch with Hasia. She attended a subsequent wedding celebration of Aminu'sin 1969, and in 1970 Aminu even sent her on a pilgrimage to Mecca. She stayed a few days in Kano to thank Aminu and spend time with her successor, Shatu. Shatu, at the age of eighteen when she and Aminu became husband and wife, had already been married once before for several years. Her uncle and walivi (guardian or foster parent), Shehu Tela with whom she had lived from age ten to fourteen ( u p to the time of

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her first marriage) was a vigorous, active N E P U supporter who had been jailed in the struggle four times. Shatu had been to Koranic school, but did not really start learning Arabic and English until she joined Aminu's household, where those who had learned from Hasia were able to help. Aminu was still too busy for the formalities of the wedding ceremony, but his relatives and legates carried out a good part of the traditional and religious chores—reading Koranic verses at the proper time and delivering kola nuts, clothes, and of course the sadaki, or bride price, to the bride's kin. This marriage rapidly fell into the same pattern as its predecessor. Aminu fulfilled such household responsibilities as dispatching frequent letters while away and returning with gifts for his wife and children, but he never let them interfere with the intensity of his national leadership role to the slightest degree. Shatu eagerly grasped every opportunity to broaden herself, traveling abroad to England, Mecca, and the United Arab Republic and learning English in the process. Accompanying this freedom to travel was a greater freedom at home as well. With Aminu's permission she could move about Kano relatively freely—shopping by car, for instance—without causing too much of a stir. Aminu encouraged her to fill in the long separations that were the norm of his household with self-education; to utilize the social work and first-aid training she had received in England, even to do needlework. As was common among prominent families, various children were "given" to the Aminu Kano household. By 1969 they numbered five—from Mohammed, aged thirteen, on down—most of them related on Aminu's or Shatu's side. Although Aminu admitted to loneliness at times, he said that his energy was absorbed by the frenetic pace at which he raced most of the time, and by the distractions of the many people who surrounded him— and he strongly urged his wife to find equivalent diversions. In any case, he did not propose to change his life style or to become a homebody at any point. He remained political from head to toe, and revelled in his role. Aminu's position vis-a-vis the constitutional reforms introduced over the period starting with the Richards Constitution in 1946 and ending with Nigerian Independence in 1960, was a multifaceted one.

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Tactically, his major concerns varied over the years. It is fairly evident that Aminu's "pie in the sky" was ultimate elimination of the power of the old, entrenched feudal establishment in the North. T o varying degrees from year to year he also opposed ignorance and filth, British colonialism, and southern encroachment and domination. These he regarded as his political goals. As long as the British presence was still the dominant force, Aminu realized that the emirate system would continue to be maintained. He therefore zeroed in on the achievement of independence from the British. When it became apparent that this would be just a matter of time, he worked to establish conditions for independence that would most closely approximate his own long-range goals. Through all these efforts ran one connecting thread, the need for education. Without it, no goals could be attained. The educational discrepancy between north and south was fraught with the danger of regional domination—in his eyes a condition only slightly better than the imperialist hegemony prevailing at the time. To avert this danger and to avoid losing sight of his basic goal, Aminu established a political base independent of the northern hierarchy, the NEPU. As we have seen, he refused to permit himself or NEPU to be absorbed into a southern party, or to become an appendage of one. His first constitutional involvement on a governmental level occurred in 1950 when he went, as a representative from Maru, to the Sokoto provincial conference on constitutional change. After that, he attended every major national constitutional conference right on up to Independence in 1960. In addition, he went to England on several missions to protest the constitutional lag that distorted the electoral process. Testimony from many participants, friendly or unfriendly, Nigerian or British, indicated that his role was active at all of them. At the 1953 London conference stemming from the "selfgovernment now" struggles and the Kano riots which followed, Aminu and Abubakar Zukogi comprised the NEPU delegation. There were nine other Nigerians, from the NPC, the NCNC, the Action Group, and the National Independence Party. The NPC delegates advanced their eight-point program asking for virtual separation of the three regions, but withdrew it after about a week, probably at the

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p r o d d i n g of the British. A l t h o u g h A m i n u opposed this NPC proposal and was actively engaged in all other issues of the conference, he concentrated his efforts on the inclusion of constitutional guarantees of h u m a n rights f o r Nigerian citizens. T h e ostensibly radical southern parties concerned themselves with m o r e parochial interests, leaving A m i n u and his colleague, Zukogi, to fight f o r the h u m a n rights clause. T h e British argued that there h a d been n o such clause prior to or during British occuption, so why include it? A m i n u countered by pointing out that Ceylon, India, and B u r m a h a d all won this concession, so why not Nigeria? His continued persistence on this issue finally produced British agreement in 1958, the N o r t h e r n traditionalists notwithstanding. A t the 1954 Lagos conference, A m i n u was able to promote discussion of r e f o r m of the N o r t h e r n regional courts, in addition to strong support for a O n e Nigeria. By 1957, the question of Independence overshadowed all else. P r o b a b l y as a delaying tactic, the British said that they could not grant independence until the h u m a n rights issue, raised by NEPU and the political minorities, was settled. A commission on h u m a n rights was set u p at that stage, toured Nigeria for one year, at the conclusion of which they submitted their r e c o m m e n d a t i o n in favor of the NEPU proposals. With this fight won, A m i n u turned to the specifics of political f r e e d o m : w o m e n ' s rights, direct elections, and democratization of the Native Authorities. Here he and his allies achieved only partial success, for in the North, w o m e n ' s right to vote has not been granted to this day. H e chalked u p this defeat as a compromise necessary to the achievement of independence, but never once ceased the struggle to achieve this political goal on the local front. Still the S a r d a u n a ( a n d his h e n c h m e n ) would not compromise. Indeed, the S a r d a u n a vowed privately that a w o m a n ' s role was to m a k e babies and that as long as he was running things there would be no votes for w o m e n in the N o r t h . T h e Nigerian students in England at the time of the conferences represented A m i n u ' s staunchest s u p p o r t e r s (students still d o ) , w h e n ever possible making their voices heard. E v e n though the British L a b o u r party never gave him any official support, individual leftwing L a b o u r M . P . ' s and their friends p u s h e d f o r what they c o n -

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sidered the progressive road to Nigerian independence, projecting NEPU'S role in the proccess. Each time A m i n u returned to Northern Nigeria, he was greeted by gigantic rallies of his supporters. There he would report his interpretation of what had transpired at the conference, raising f u n d s in the process. The always low NEPU treasury was replenished simultaneously by the sale of badges during these periods of enthusiasm. O n one occasion as many as 20.000 badges were sold at two shillings apiece. As the nation moved toward independence, A m i n u immersed himself to full depth in the murky political waters, utilizing every electoral opportunity to challenge opponents with his person and party. With the active aid of the British, the entrenched bureaucracy continued, by fair means and foul, to hold fast to its course and maintain its grip on the power structure. A f t e r some electoral defeats and some victories that turned into defeats, in 1959 Aminu finally won a seat in the Federal Parliament f r o m his home constituency in Kano East. With this elevation to the status of a national representative, he found himself in a changing role requiring the transfer of a good part of his activities to Lagos and the federal level. Though for him there was no accompanying shift of power, this could still be broadly considered as a partial changeover f r o m politician to diplomat. H e welcomed the shift as a new challenge, even though the national problems soon caught u p with him, and deeply embroiled him in the web of coalition politics and the accompanying ideological decisions which were inevitably forced upon him.

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When Aminu the parliamentarian found much of his time occupied with national affairs, the contradictions in his political life were accentuated. His primary goal had consistently been the democratization of the North as part of a united Nigeria. Yet within the brief span of the year following the 1959 elections, his country was to become politically independent of its previous colonial master, with hardly more than a vague approach to genuine liberty or democracy. Notations in Aminu's diary indicate the repressive atmosphere that prevailed prior to and at the time of the federal election: August 23, 1959

Back in Kano; trouble; fearful parents calling sons t o l e a v e NEPU

September 8 October 1 November 3

Disturbances in K u d u — 1 0 0 arrests and injuries. Hope political leaders will reach decision on maintaining peace. Entire delegation to Sardauna re Kano repression all jailed! Weren't even seen!

In the acrimonious atmosphere that followed the elections, a national reconciliation of some kind had to be forged to run the country, since no one party had achieved a majority. What was eventually worked out was a coalition between the NCNC based in the East and the NPC of the North, with the Action Group of the West serving as opposition. This left Aminu's party, the NEPU, in the contradictory position of emerging as chief victim of the bitter campaign, at the very time that its alliance partner, the NCNC, was sharing government responsibilities with its arch rivals: a violent opposition on a regional level—partnership on a national level. Aminu's consistently maintained dialogue with his opponents stood him in good stead in the face of this contradiction. H e reasoned,

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correctly or otherwise, that from any augmented position of influence he would be much more effective in achieving his goals. But with more than 2,000 of his followers still in jail, he felt that it would have been unseemly, at the very least, for him to accept a ministerial post with prestige and no power, coalition government notwithstanding. Unless it was a ministry such as Internal Affairs, in which he could do something about the repression, an appointment of this sort would have been pointless. In any case neither the powerful Emir of Kano nor the Sardauna of Sokoto would be likely to permit it. Curiously, the Prime Minister even passed Aminu over in May 1962 for an appointment as Resident Commissioner of Economic Development—a sort of roving ambassador in the Ministry of Economic Development, to be based in Washington, D.C. It was generally felt that the heavy hand of the Sardauna was the decisive factor in both these cases. Nevertheless, Aminu did agree to accept a post as Deputy Chief Government Whip, where he continued to play what he considered to be an independent role, accepting or rejecting resolutions on the basis of their validity, not party loyalties. Up to this point, the attempts of NEPU'S ally, the NCNC, to embrace political groups in other sections of the country had led to a loose alliance, permitting great autonomy on the part of their parliamentarians without the imposition of strict central control. This arrangement fitted in well with Aminu's insistence upon keeping his options open. It enabled him to place his relations with individual NCNC MPs in much the same category as with his friends in NPC. That is, he accepted their proposals when in agreement with them, and rejected them when he disapproved. For example, Ekotie-Eboh, an NCNC party boss and Minister of the Treasury (subsequently killed in 1966, during the first coup) was the man to whom one went when something needed doing. Whether or not he could be considered straightforward, Aminu had to approach him as though he were, meeting with him on parliamentary or party business only when necessary. Otherwise, they were in two different worlds. As a vicepresident of NCNC, Aminu met with Michael Okpara, Fred McEwen,* and others at party meetings regarding the financing of •Michael Okpara, Chairman NCNC, Premier of Eastern Region; Fred McEwen, Organizational Secretary, NCNC.

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N E P U ' S electoral expenses by N C N C , for this became the nub of the relationship between the two parties. Aminu's speeches in Parliament immediately and clearly indicated his freedom of action. H e supported any parliamentary attempts to expand women's rights and human rights; and to wipe out corruption and all vestiges of colonialism even after Independence. 1 Aminu didn't feel too conflicted, for as always, he tried to vote on the issue, and to avoid factional friction. His cordial relations with A b u b a k a r T a f a w a Balewa, chosen again as Prime Minister in 1959, and with all those NPc'ers who naturally fell into Balewa's camp, permitted him to accept posts of national responsibility, even as their respect for him enabled them to accept him in such roles, regardless of local antagonisms. Thus he was a logical choice as a delegate to the U.N. in New York City when the long-awaited Independence finally arrived in 1960. T o his NPC antagonists the appointment was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, the gadfly could d o less damage on distant shores than at home; on the other hand, the prestige carried by the position tended to build Aminu up as a national leader. Nevertheless, the Prime Minister, knowing Aminu's competence and interest in foreign affairs, felt the country could benefit from his talents. Recognizing these same contradictions, Aminu accepted the appointment gladly. From his point of view, in addition to its advantages, it would give him a much-needed respite from the political wars—an opportunity to shore up his energies and replenish his arsenal. During the federal elections of 1964, neither Aminu nor any of the other politicians came to the U.N., for they were busy contesting their seats back home. Since regional assembly elections were held in the first few months of an election year, Aminu was able to remain on the local electoral battlefront without seriously interrupting his U.N. duties. His assignment on the U.N.'s Second Committee (Economic) taught him much, carrying him to trade conferences in Geneva and elsewhere and developing his expertise in economic affairs. Overall foreign policy for Nigeria was determined by the Foreign Ministry, so that if the need for a significant shift in position arose in the U.N., permission had to be obtained from Lagos. But

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unlike some of the larger countries, Nigeria afforded opportunities for the use of individual initiatives. As leader of a party out of power, Aminu had a great deal more leeway to take far-out positions than he would have had as a leader of government; yet surprisingly enough, he approached decision-making on the international front quite soberly. His radicalism was applicable principally to the local scene. At this time he was a "relative" revolutionary when dealing with the emirate system; for his goals were modernity, radical administrative change, education, enlightenment, and economic improvement. In a feudal society, a staunch democrat is a revolutionary, whereas in a democratic context he becomes just another liberal. Thus Aminu's influence, in the U.N. and wherever an international position was called for, was toward progressivism and vigilant neutralism. He was a militant pan-Africanist and opposed to multilateral pacts, with their accompanying intracontinental rivalries. Unlike the Nkrumah brand of pan-Africanism he did not rule out more realistic halfway points, such as regional unification as part of an over-all, stronger version of the Organization of African Unity ( O A U ) on whatever basis it could be achieved. 2 Judging from Aminu's prior political history, one might have expected an antiWestern slant, but it never emerged. He could have been considered more "Eastern" oriented than his NPC colleagues only if his willingness to accept economic aid for his country from whatever source it came, or his militant championing of non-bloc diplimacy (exclusive of the African bloc) could be categorized as such. "We seem to keep our door open at all times to the West, simultaneously maintaining a closed door policy to the E a s t . . . unnecessary conditions are placed in the way of Nigerians who wish to go to the Eastern countries; . . . the double-faced policy our government often adopts toward some of the countries of the Eastern Bloc leaves much to be desired in our foreign policy." 3 Aminu's independence, so characteristic of the political wars of the 1950's, carried over into his international stance as well. Illustrative of this was his position vis-à-vis pan-Islamism, Israel, and the Middle East. On the one hand, he was accused of emulating Nasser and the United A r a b Republic in his attempts to upgrade the judicial system in Northern Nigeria by abolishing the Moslem

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courts and his sympathetic identification with Nasser's attempts to modernize Egypt. On the other hand, even though he felt that pan-Islamism was never a serious force in Nigeria, Aminu scored the Sadauna for trying to lead the North out of the Federation of Nigeria and into the Arab world through his overt religious sympathies and prejudices. Aminu met Golda Meir at Ghana's Independence celebration in 1957, and eventually visited Israel as an official guest of the Israeli government. When he addressed himself to Nigerian Moslems, his concern was less for their possible anti-Jewish feeling than for any anti-Christian feeling. They had relatively little experience with Jews or Israelis, but anti-Christian laws had not .been uncommon in the past, and Christian missionaries had been stoned at times. Consequently, he felt free to encourage technological contact with Israel for what it was worth to Nigerians, and to oppose the anti-Israel position urged by some of his fellow countrymen. 4 Though his commitment to Islam was deep, he associated himself with the moderns of the Moslem world in his attempts to introduce a nonfundamentalist approach to the religion locally. His independent attitude applied equally to the Western world, to China, and to the Soviet Union. Thus he was free to make personal decisions on the basis of issues rather than loyalties and international patronage, and to remain on cordial working terms with most parties to international disputes. The maturing of his human, personal relationships made him invaluable to Nigeria's U.N. delegation and the committees he served, while teaching him a great deal at the same time. He found he could frequently pave the way for successful consideration of his resolutions through the simple device of clearing them with the key countries and blocs before he even presented them. Now instead of working in the restricted milieu of Northern Nigerian and party politics, criticizing the local authorities or the Action Group, Aminu had to defend the interests of his country in relation to the world—temporarily swallowing some of his own intramural complaints in the process. H e began to mellow, to gain new perspectives and tolerance as he observed delegates from the Eastern and Western orbits at work. The job was a national duty

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to him, a school and an opportunity to rub shoulders with the world; and he thoroughly enjoyed the broadening process which accompanied the assignment. Concurrently he managed to befriend many foreigners both within the U.N. among the diplomats of the world and without, among the native New Yorkers. The parochial leader of his countrymen was being graduated into the world of statesmanship. When he had the chance to invite two international guests to the Independence celebration in 1960, he chose two Americans: Dr. Mercer Cook and Miss Maida Springer (who had been instrumental in inviting him to make a trip to the U.S. in 1959 under the auspices of the American Society for African Culture [ A M S A C ] ) It was at one of those informal social gatherings mentioned in Chapter 1 that someone asked about his mode of dress in the various countries he visited. "What determined whether he dressed Nigerian or Western style?" His laughing response indicated that, even as in his relations with his family and those around him, so his sartorial habits were determined by their political effect. In Nigeria, he most frequently wore the long, straight, simple robe known as a caftan, avoiding the royal turban and the flowing large-pocketed gown worn by Hausa-Fulani aristocracy yet staying within acceptable limits as far as the talakawa were concerned. In Lagos and the south, he would wear the traditional northern garb, the riga, specifically establishing himself as a northerner. When abroad, his mode of dress varied with the circumstances. In 1951-1952, at a gathering in London during one of the constitutional conferences, Aminu was the only one to appear in Western dress, to the chagrin of the tradition-minded British officers present. When one of them expressed disappointment, asking "But where is your native dress, Aminu?" he evoked in response, "Aren't you Scottish?" After an affirmative reply, Aminu returned with, "Then where is your kilt?" Aminu explained his dress in the U.S.A. in these terms, "At the U.N., we had to establish our self-esteem and integrity, to inform the world that we existed as a national entity, so I wore national dress." Now since it is no longer necessary, I wear Western clothes. In London, too, I resort to Western dress, for there the prevailing attitude toward someone in African attire is still to look down upon

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the wearer as a colonial, whereas in France, where an exotically dressed African is an 'intellectual,' I often return to caftan or riga." The only time on record that he ventured to become a stylesetter was in 1967 at a mass rally in Kano welcoming the formation of a separate Kano State. Aminu arrived dressed in a simple, unadorned cotton overblouse extending a bit below the waist, with no collar and a row of buttons down the front, and trousers to match. He urged all he could to adopt this practical garb for work and play, since he considered the flowing traditional robe inefficient and impractical. This style, now known as the "Kano State Suit," has since become extremely popular. Aminu's graduation from the political arena of the Northern Region to the national and international scene required that he raise his sights accordingly. When he considered the relative merits of radical vs. gradual change, he could no longer think solely of how fast the Northern Region's autocracy could be altered to conform to the theoretically more advanced state of the other regions—or, for that matter, even of raising the national level a mite higher. He had to think of Nigeria in relation to other nations, capitalistic or socialistic. To what degree should other nations be emulated? Was one master plan better than another? How could the gap between developed and underdeveloped nations be closed? And so on. Characteristically, he refused to accept any one country as a prototype; rather, he drew from its ideals. Democracy was not what existed in the U.S. or Great Britain, but that "system which permits the people . . . to determine their rulers . . . and to effect their succession without violence according to a rule of law." Socialism or communism was not the U.S.S.R. or the People's Republic of China, or Marx amended by Lenin or Mao, but "an ethic of selfless devotion, of militant partisanship, of rigid adherence to principle . . . practical opportunism, of exaltation of one . . . supreme principle." 5 He also questioned and fought against the concept that because coercive circumstances existed in other countries when they went through their industrial revolutions, Africa must inevitably follow the same cycle. He still felt strongly that Nigeria could skip the horse, bicycle, and automobile stages and go right to the aeroplane; intermediate steps could well be leapfrogged/' His grasp of these

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problems was quick and penetrating, but he seemed to understand the problems better than the possible solutions. His integrity and independence m a d e it easier to see more than one side to a question; consequently, it also m a d e solution systems difficult to arrive at. Thus his international responsibilities tended to make for less polarization in his thinking, and perhaps less certainty as to where he was going and how he was to arrive there. T h e pragmatist in him, his ability to make a realistic appraisal, together with an ability to a c t — all tended to modify his national stance, making him less of a radical and more of a practical politician, more in the Kennedy image than a T o m Paine. Though this made him a more effective public servant, his image back home among the intelligentsia, students, and youth became somewhat blurred. T h e r e were some who attributed the change to his acceptance of a role in a coalition government that included the NPC—the devil incarnate, the hub of his verbal diatribes, the group responsible for the deaths, jailings, and persecution of his followers. A segment of the political savants began to think of him as an intellectual capitulator, as having gone the way of all flesh like so many Nigerians before him. Intense discussions during this period f o u n d him troubled about these apparent contradictions himself; for he saw them as well as, or better than, the many who observed f r o m afar. H e could always answer to himself for an action or decision, but his constituency would not necessarily see it in the same light. T h e numbers of followers who gathered in his living room in Lagos or K a n o or when he was touring had not diminished. T o those who were close to him, Aminu had not collapsed or even faltered. But among those who were further r e m o v e d — a t the University of Ibadan, in local administrations, and elsewhere—there were doubters. T h e venue for the stage was changing but still A m i n u had to remain at one with his audience. T o become a local warrior once again would require a different orientation. H e had to move forward, while simultaneously calculating how to put this movement into context on the home front. T h a t task, it turned out, was not easy. NEPU, Aminu's political base and alter ego, was in difficulty. A t its core, the party h a d been built and maintained on a diet of ideological devotion and self-sacrifice: on the "return of all confiscated lands . . . to the peasants; taxation with proper representa-

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tion; and the abolition of privileges." 7 Yet the succession of elections, each bringing its share of repression and torment to the individual victims, was taking its toll, "NEPU'S task was to create among the peasantry a conception of an attainable alternative social and political order. . . . The obstacles were indeed formidable . . . [rendering] . . . futile election victories short of [success] at the regional level. The net result was . . . [to deny them] . . . visible examples of the prospective fruits of change." 8 All around them, sycophancy and self-serving seemed to be on the ascendant. Instead of being punished for their evil deeds, those who had succumbed were being rewarded for their opportunism. Those who had remained steadfast were not only losing the elections, but were suffering doubly after the fact, when the northern clientage system began to move in on them inexorably. "Simply by identifying itself with a viable organization of society, the NPC could offer blandishments that were real and immediate." 9 On one hand, these blandishments were dangled in front of the victim's eyes. On the other, they denied traders access to their goods, and farmers faced an intensification of the same unjust tax system that had driven them into opposition. The very ones who had sacrificed most, who had remained loyal through jailings, beatings, and the travail visited upon them, in despair were beginning to look around for a feathered nest of their own. Just as they had become radicalized in the struggle, so they were being prostituted by the climate of opportunism that permeated the nation. Their cause, exterminating evil, was getting no place. The moral fiber of the country was slowly crumbling. In the south, whatever ideological base the NCNC had had began to disappear. Zik had accepted its loose, independent relationship and alliance with NEPU, avoiding conflict in this way; but now the NCNC leaders were ferreting about for favor, for jobs, for work and trade contracts with government. They were looking with disfavor upon the more ideologically consistent NEPU, their northern ally, thus acting in a fashion very similar to the NPC, their northern opposition. Everyone in the country seemed to be grabbing for a larger share of the pot. Michael Okpara, leader of the NCNC after Zik became Governor and then President of Nigeria, proclaimed in a convention speech that a party that does not win elections will, like a flower, wither and die. Power was becoming the glory.

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In February 1961, without prior inquiries or consultation, Joseph Tarka, Tiv leader of the United Middle Belt Congress ( UMBC ) sent a telegram to a N E P U convention urging a united front. Since N E P U was in agreement on the granting of a separate Middle Belt state, Aminu felt the idea was good. However, he felt that with the UMBC'S affiliation to Action Group, the telegram could only be interpreted as an open invitation for N E P U to leave its NCNC connections. He concluded that if any such major move were contemplated, it should have been discussed in advance, to avoid the obvious implication that Tarka was buying N E P U for the Action Group. He believed, also, that any such move should bring with it an improvement in status, not merely a nominal change in alliance. Therefore he opposed it. Six months later, in August, the tangential approach of the UMBC was followed by a more overt move on the part of a group of N E P U leaders who chose to challenge (from within the party this time) Aminu's adamant insistence on continuing the party's ties with NCNC for lack of a viable alternative, N E P U should become a "free and independent" party, they said, cut its ties to NCNC, and refuse to participate in the federal coalition. Though they made no mention of any negotiations with Action Group's leadership, it was an open secret that alluring financial bait had been offered them to switch their allegiance. When it came to a showdown, the Executive Committee rejected the dissidents resoundingly and gave Aminu's leadership an enthusiastic vote of confidence. Although the opposition made claims of taking several thousand N E P U i t e s with it, 10 their faction was badly beaten. During the following year, some of the disaffected went over to the NPC, and a few of the leaders slowly aligned themselves openly with Action Group, but most found their way back into NEPU. The party had retained its integrity, but suffered a further shattering of its already hard-to-come-by trained cadres. F o r the first time, Aminu's unquestioned ideological dominance was subjected to criticism from others in the N E P U leadership. None of them ever seriously questioned his strategy or integrity, only his tactics. Some of the more militant among the cadres had made a trip to China in 1960-1961 1 1 and returned, eager to push the party further to the left. The decision to participate in the ruling government N P C - N C N C coalition had stirred the fires of internecine

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conflict, opening up the otherwise subsurface sores. Aminu exciting victories to fall back upon to soothe his followers, his position permit them the analgesic effect of licking their wounds in self-solace, or even the satisfaction of defiantly their tongues out at their tormentors.

had no nor did opened sticking

The tenor of the times began to affect his own party, N E P U was becoming more isolated. To further complicate matters, financial irregularities were discovered, leading to several expulsions and continued erosion of the party leadership. These organizational struggles tended to lower Aminu's tolerance level. As an individual, his ties with the people of the North were still ironclad. He was revered by millions as their leader. They stampeded to see him, to hear him, to touch him. But the organizational pyramid which was built around him, ostensibly at least, as the means for the common man to gain power was teetering. He was distracted by his national governmental functions, and those whom he left behind were bickering and taunting one another. In the midst of all this internal mayhem, and the usual external repressive pressures came the 1961 elections to the Northern House of Assembly—and N E P U succeeded in winning only one seat. Each preceding election campaign had brought the wrath of the authorities down on the heads of their challengers, but Aminu had consistently exerted a moderating influence where he could, pleading with his followers to avoid open conflict. In this 1961 campaign, he pulled out all stops and urged them to hit back. If attacked unjustly, resist. Desperation and frustration had mounted to a fever pitch, so they did not need much urging—but the measurable results were dismal indeed. Obviously some revisions were in order. If rebuilding was to be done, the best place to start was in the land of his origin, Kano. This was Aminu's original constituency and still represented his well of strength. But the serpent who guarded the well had to be slain before the people could start drawing water from its depths, as had Bayajidda in Daura a millennium before. Even though Aminu was now an MP from a Kano constituency and definite inroads had already been made into the previously unchallenged authority of the emir, Kano's king was still the major force with which Aminu and the local NEPU had to reckon.

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Traditionally Kano had always been the strongest challenge and threat to the hegemony of Sokoto. The Sardauna, in a sense an extension of the old traditional Fulani empire, functioning now in Kaduna instead of Sokoto, was by this time known unofficially as Sarkin Arewa (King of the North) instead of Sarkin Musulmi (King of the Muslims and Sultan of Sokoto), indicating the adapted revised form of the traditional hierarchy. Emir Sanusi of Kano the most powerful emir in the Fulani empire haughtily considered himself an independent sovereign beholden to no one. Thus when Ahmadu Bello, Sardauna of Sokoto and Premier of the Northern Region, came to Kano, the emir would send the Madaki, his own prime minister, to receive him; on the same diplomatic level as Sir Ahmadu, according to his tradition-soaked way of thinking. The Sardauna, powerful and pompous with his own sense of status and tradition, did not take kindly to treatment of this sort and invoked his updated power over the emir whenever possible. This created a three-way battlefront. Aminu, with N E P U behind him, attacked the emir on the emirate level and the Sardauna on the regional level, and they in turn used NPC to attack him, their common enemy, as well as each other. However, the traditional rivalry between Kano and Sokoto was too strong to submerge, even in the face of a common threat. The enmity of decades surfaced as far back as 1959, at the official celebrations for the granting of Northern self-government. The Emir of Kano had been doubly offended—first, by not being seated with the important dignitaries, and then again when he was rebuked for trying to seat himself, uninvited. The irritation was further aggravated by delicate conflicts of protocol in 1961, when the Emir was chosen as temporary Acting Governor of the North in the absence of Sir Westray Bell, the British Governor. 1 2 Their rivalry continued with each piece of legislation introduced in the Northern legislature that tended to pare the power of the emir's local authority. Emir Sanusi challenged, either overtly or covertly, any bill that superimposed civil authority over his head. F o r his part, the Sardauna used his civil power to demean the traditional status of the emir by such measures as appointing a member of a Sokoto royal slave lineage to a position of authority over him. The personal conflict spilled readily over into political conflict within the NPC and eventually led to the appointment of a Com-

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mission of Enquiry into the Deteriorating Financial Situation in Kano Emirate, followed by a Governmental Statement on Kano Native Authority Affairs. Finally, in April 1963, Sanusi abdicated the throne, to retire in exile. As ciroma,* or heir apparent, Mohammadu Sanusi had spared no effort to insure his own succession to the throne. He had tried every conceivable way to make himself the obvious choice of the kingmakers and had succeeded. But he was highly personal and almost paranoid about NEPU, as if it had been organized solely to keep him from the emirship. When Emir Abdullahi, his father, passed away and he was immediately chosen as successor, Aminu and about ten of the NEPU leaders paid him a courtesy call to extend condolences and wish him luck. As they left, they ran a gauntlet of jeers and taunts from the palace servants and found all their bicycle tires deflated when they emerged from the palace. This guarded suspicion and distrust between the emir and Aminu continued in spite of the facade of politeness with which they treated each other. In 1957, both went by boat to London to attend a constitutional conference. On the thirteen-day trip, Emir Sanusi was chosen as imam to lead the prayer, but depended on Aminu to tell him which direction was east and Mecca. Their civility toward one another was maintained during their stay in London. Aminu, wanting to present a picture of unity in the face of the British, paid his respects daily at the Emir's hotel, as did the NPC delegates. Back home in Kano, when the Emir reported that Aminu had accepted his traditional leadership by prostrating himself, Aminu angrily denied it, pointing out that this had been merely a courtesy call in the interest of unity and compared the Emir to "a lion who grew a mane to frighten the other animals and hide his cowardice. H e jails and flails because he's afraid to face his own people with ideas." 1 3 Until their falling out, the Sardauna referred to Emir Sanusi as the "hero of the North" for making it next to impossible for the opposition to function in Kano. In a single year, more than one thousand NEPU sympathizers in Kano alone were jailed on one *A ciroma is not guaranteed to be successor to an emir, though he usually stands the best chance.

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pretext or another, for political activity. During this period, the Sardauna urged the emir on, regarding him as paramount, above all other emirs. And then came the fall. Sanusi had challenged the supremacy of the Northern Regional Government, the modern form used to perpetuate traditional hierarchal rule, by dominating the choice of Kano's parliamentarians and attempting to manipulate them to his own ends. At the same time he continued to rule over the traditional centers of power in the emirate, refusing to accept the dominance of the larger political system. The Sardauna, in a combination of modern and traditional techniques, using the power of the regional government and the cooperation of individual alienated courtiers of Kano's inner circle, succeeded in dethroning an Emir of Kano, attempted several times in the past by Sokoto's traditional leadership, but never so successfully. 14 Nevertheless, subsequent events showed that this maneuver carried great political risks. The aging and ailing Inuwa, uncle of Mohammadu Sanusi, was chosen as a sort of interim emir to establish the legitimacy of the change, since it could be maintained that Inuwa, brother of Abdullahi Bayero, Emir of Kano until 1953, should have been chosen in the first place. Aminu recognized this controversy for what it was—a knockdown, drag-out struggle of personalities in the style of past palace convulsions, just as the Sardauna himself had experienced in his conflict with the Sultan of Sokoto back in the mid-forties. While the confrontation was rapidly moving toward its climax, he did what he could to stir it up, knowing that no matter which man would be forced to go, the North and movement for reform would benefit. NEPU printed a pamphlet pointing up the historical parallels of Kano dynastic resistance to Sokoto dominance. When it came to possible advantages to be derived therefrom, Aminu was ever ready to play down the tyranny of past political relationships. Interestingly enough, back in 1961, at a mass rally, Aminu once again ventured a prediction. Emir Sanusi was pushing his power to its furthest limits, antagonizing many people in the process. An incident occurred wherein property was seized from the two widows of a deceased man and, contrary to established law, given to the Emir's wife to use for rental income. Aminu was infuriated

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when he heard of it. He searched out a relative of the deceased to lay claim to the house, and shouted to the world that if an Emir stooped so low as to unjustly deny an unborn child (one widow was pregnant at the time) a roof over its head, the time would come when he would be deposed and find no place in Kano. The case was brought to the high court, where the judge advised Kaduna to get the Emir to give way, since it had become a cause célèbre by this time, with the entire country looking through the window. The Emir finally had to retreat, but attempted to cover his tracks by having his hirelings break the windows of the house and permit animals to wander in and out, so that he could maintain that it had been abandoned. N E P U raised the money necessary to restore the house to full use. The world of Northern Nigeria was shaken to its roots by the clash between the two giants of tradition. No one had dreamed that so powerful an emir could or would have been deposed by legal means, with nary a display of force. A new era had been ushered in. Never again would an emir move as an independent sovereign. If he wanted a place in the new world, he had to fit himself into the new national context. Inuwa Wada, who had refused to deal with Aminu for the decade of Sanusi's reign, came to him and said, "Sanusi feared your election would topple him, but it was his friends who deposed him, and you who defended him (Aminu had directed his political associates not to testify before the Moffett Committee of Enquiry or take sides since Sanusi was not being charged with political malfeasance, and he apparently anticipated the conclusion). I will never separate from you again. My house is your house." 1 5 Sanusi's friends re-formed their ranks. During the interregnum under the ailing Emir Inuwa, a new party, the Kano People's Party, emerged, dedicated to the return of ex-Emir Sanusi or his son, Ado Sanusi. One of the goals in their manifesto, "to free the country from one-man rule," 1 6 made their orientation quite clear. Within several months, the leaders asked for an alliance with NEPU. The request was granted on the basis of the N E P U program, without any N E P U commitment to the restoration of Sanusi. Toward the end of 1963, the NPC leadership, in a move to stem the dwindling of its support in Kano, called on its people to

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come to the palace to greet the failing Emir Inuwa. When they provocatively threw stones at NEPU supporters en route, instead of returning fire, the NEPuites decided to try the same tactic. On the following night they paid a courtesy visit of their own. A tremendous crowd, estimated at over 35,000, turned out. A delegation of sixteen was chosen to approach the Emir, physically pushing away the Madaki and other courtiers in the process. They told Emir Inuwa to get rid of these court men, for they were no friends of his, and "The city belongs to us!" The emir thanked them and asked them to pray for him. No one molested thern as they returned to their homes, but the Emir died that very night. The secret police reported these happenings to the Sardauna, who realized that the next Emir had to be a popular one, or there would be trouble. The name of Ado Bayero was on NEPU lips for he had been a relatively progressive man. Sardauna wanted another, but he agreed and Ado was recalled from Senegal, where he had been serving as Nigeria's ambassador. Although Aminu had steadfastly opposed the emirate system, he had always followed the traditional custom of treating emirs with the civility and respect expected of a northener. Gifts were exchanged, usually initiated from rich to poor, an aristocrat to a client, or elderly to the young. When Aminu paid his respects to the Sardauna, even in the bitterest of times, he would be given an expensive gown, or a cash gift. The gowns Aminu would pass on to his father or a mallam. (The mallam in turn would send Aminu a bag of grain or a shank of cloth.) Emir Ado Bayero observed this pattern of exchange, except that, because of his more advanced educational status and progressive orientation, the gifts were on a higher level. Whenever Aminu returned from Europe or the U.S., he might, for example, present the Emir with a book he thought would interest him. He had been on reasonably good terms with Ado in his pre-emir days, and had teased him at times about his royal heritage. When A d o worked as a bank clerk and rode a bicycle, Aminu had banteringly suggested that a motorbike would be more suited to his status, for some day he would be emir. As chief of police, A d o was reputed to have been relatively fair, sometimes even to the point of disagreement with his brother, the Emir. When he was chosen Emir of Kano, Aminu

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cabled from New York congratulating him on the fulfillment of his prophecy. On the political scene however, not much changed, for the electoral repressions continued and even intensified. The schism which developed in Kano when the emir was deposed gave new life locally to NEPU'S waning political challenge, but at a heavy emotional price. Sanusi's out-of-favor supporters were now willing enough allies, but these were the same people who had been among NEPU'S worst persecutors. What did they have in common with their former opponents as a basis for cooperation? Certainly not the restoration of Sanusi; on the other hand, all were against one-man rule, the major principle of the KPP. As the months went by, the "people" from the Kano Peoples' Party officially came over into NEPU, and a movement for an independent Kano State burgeoned forth, though it did not take shape as an effective, unified, full blown force until after the 1964 elections. The tugs and strains within Northern Nigeria's traditional structure increased during the 1950's as modernism and Independence approached, contributing greatly to the instability of the region. The conflicts brought on by the long-existing rivalry between Kano and Sokoto Emirates; and the class conflict between the masses (talakawa) and their rulers ( s a r a k u n a ) , with its overlapping Habe vs. Fulani dissensions all continued apace. To these was now added the new challenge of the young, educated elements, who opened up a new area of conflict between the regional and emirate centers of authority. The simmering political pot was agitated by yet another unsettling factor: the religious brotherhoods. These religious fraternities involved a complicated system of loyalties to specific Moslem leaders of the past, who at one time or another had set themselves up as authentic interpreters of the true Islamic faith. As each generation passed, disciples of the founders of these two groups (Sheik Khadir and Sheik Tijjani) managed to convince the followers in each of these two groups that they were the legitimate inheritors of the mantle of interpretive authority. Each, in turn, had their representatives (muquaddams) throughout Northern Nigeria and West Africa, in the major centers of their influence. 1 7 The originator of the Fulani empire in Northern Nigeria, Usman Dan Fodio, was a

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member of Khadiriyya. All the Emirs of Kano, starting with Emir Abbas ( 1 9 0 3 - 1 9 1 9 ) , were followers of Tijjaniyya, thus abetting the rivalry between the royal houses. Kano became the HausaFulani center for Tijjaniyya, Sokoto for Khadiriyya. Naturally, warring political groups tried to influence and win the support of these religious fraternities. The Tijjaniyya movement took strong hold among the talakawa right across Hausaland. This being the case, when Tijjaniyya strength grew up in areas such as Eastern Sokoto, the British understandably regarded it as a factor leading to instability. When Aminu was in Maru Teachers' Training School in Sokoto Emirate and raised the simple question of an imam's improper performance of religious ritual it was earth shaking because of the fear that it might be stirring up the Khadiriyya-Tijjaniyya rivalry. Aminu's early assessment of the relationship between religion and his political goals led him to avoid involvement in religious controversy. Although his family was generally under Tijjaniyya influence, he was never initiated into the order. Nevertheless, as Prof. C. S. Whitaker points out, "A natural alliance existed between the turug (Tijjaniyya) and NEPU in certain parts of the Upper N o r t h — where membership in the two organizations was usually reciprocal." 1 8 But Aminu was engaged in spreading social and political ideas which would attract educated and progressive-minded young men, not one religious order or another. The youth of both Khadiriyya and Tijjaniyya tended to be NEPU sympathizers, while the government and the conservative mallams openly preached against such allegiance and tried to influence them through their respective orders. Mallam Nasiru, Khadiriyya leader of Kano, who was close to the palace and an official in the Emir's court, preached against NEPU to the old and young of his order, as did Sheik Tijjani, current Tijjaniyya leader. In spite of these pressures, most of the younger men remained loyal to NEPU. Extracts from a sad and wistful letter to Aminu in 1964 indicate the pull still exerted by religious and traditional beliefs; the level and type of pressure the society put on the young NEPU supporters; and the growing gap between the two generations. The author, a school teacher, and NEPU nominee for Sumaila in the federal parliamentary elections, had been jailed for alleged incitement to violence. 1 9

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Dec. 20, 1964 To the President-General of NEPU, Chairman N.P.F. Dear Sir: My withdrawal [of candidature in the federal elections] is depressing to me. . . . I was forced to withdraw due to paternal influence. [Now] . . . Inuwa Wada will be returned unopposed due to the pressure of my father. . . . I was pleased with my arrest, thinking my father would be annoyed with my treatment, but the old man wouldn't give way. Immediately my father heard of my nomination . . . he came to Kano. . . . I had already been under detention for seventy-five days. . . . I was asked to come to the prison interrogation room. . . . To my dismay my father was seated [there]. . . . I fell to my knees and greeted him. . . . The first thing out of his mouth was, "Choose between the two: your candidature or me, your father!" He threatened to disown me for life and for death, unless I withdrew. . . . It was this statement that moved me, for I never know what would be my fate . . . on the religious side. [Instead] I offend you, my second father. . . . The Magajin did not use any direct threats or personal influence on me, but I would not deny that his influence was used indirectly through my father. . . . Whether he was threatened I do not know. . . . My withdrawal has nothing to do with money or threats, but solely a father's earnest desire which I am forced to entertain. . . . 1 still support you and your party. [I will come back] into active politics when and if my father happens to die before me. . . . In deep mourning I have composed the poem below, [entitled] "Disappointment." How much do I value the blessings of a father, for to me they are precious and dear. As the winds of change draw so near, I leave my desires for his sake for the world to hear, My father's annoyance is what I really fear. In permanent devotion and eternal allegiance to you and your party. Yours obediently, M U S A SAID A B U B A K A R (Disappointed)

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T h e most revered interpreter of Tijjaniyya today is one Sheik Ibrahim Niass, of Wolof descent, resident of Kaolack in Senegal. H e has gradually established his authority over the years through study and learning, divine inspiration, and acceptance by a significant segment of mallams, particularly in and around Kano Emirate. H e is widely considered as being of the highest of fourteen orders of saints ( G a u t h ) and the one and only Reformer of the century (Mujiddad). Dating back to the time he met Emir Abdullahi Bayero of Kano in Mecca, years ago, the sheik slowly gained acceptance as spiritual leader in the emirate. His relationship with the Emir had political as well as religious connotations for Islam holds that only through a system of Moslem government can the conditions be set for the purification of Islam. While the French pushed Ibrahim as a Moslem leader for all of North Africa, the British tried to establish the Emir of Kano as a British counterpart. Suleiman inadvertently foiled these colonial machinations by introducing the two, ultimately leading to their joining forces. The Emir of Kano strongly needed an outside spiritual authority to counteract that of the Sultan of Sokoto, as temporal and religious matters in the region were deeply interwoven. The spread of Reformed Tijjaniyya throughout Hausaland, creating the first genuine trans-ethnic Moslem group in Nigeria, greatly strengthened his hand. 2 0 When Emir Sanusi permitted himself to be initiated into Tijjaniyya he knew it would tend to neutralize much of the class protest movement of the 1950's. When he became a religious deputy of Sheik Ibrahim, he could come on stronger by representing the masses on a religious front. This position in the hierarchy, however, was not necessarily restricted and exclusive; if they so chose, other religious leaders could each reach Sheik Ibrahim independently. Since Ibrahim had such a revered status, Aminu could not afford to ignore the political ramifications. The students of the more enlightened Reformed Tijjaniyya mallams served as a source of support for NEPU. On the other hand, the orthodox mallams close to Emir Sanusi attacked Aminu and his followers as sacrilegious and ungodly. In 1962, when Sheik Ibrahim Niass came to Kano, he sent Aminu a secret message to meet him in Kaduna. Aminu reports that the meeting elicited the following advice from the Sheik, who knew full well the effect NEPU was having on the Tijjaniyya youths:

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"Don't let the British or anyone divide you from the non-Moslems. Work with everyone; use each other to come to power. Don't let them divide you, as the French try to do in my country." Sheik Tijjani, one of the conservative Tijjaniyya leaders of Kano who was present at the meeting, tried to report that Ibrahim had condemned the NEPU, but Aininu called a mass rally to tell his version of what really had transpired. He proposed that both he and Sheik Tijjani send sworn affidavits to Sheik Ibrahim for his corroboration. In 1963, when Emir Sanusi was deposed, Ibrahim cleverly appointed him Caliph (his representative) of all West Africa, in this way retaining Sanusi's followers for Tijjaniyya. During the 1964 federal election campaign, Aminu found it judicious to visit the great Shehu Ibrahim at his home in Kaolack, to identify himself with this very large group of religious devotees. Ahmadu Trader and Salihu Garba, followers of both Ibrahim and Aminu, accompanied him and took photos of all the significant symbolic acts of endorsement: Ibrahim clasping Aminu's head in his hands, putting food in Aminu's mouth, and embracing him. A calendar with these photos was used in the election campaign to eliminate any doubts that Aminu continued to enjoy the Shehu's good graces. The orthodox leaders of Khadiriyya and Tijjaniyya may have been clashing among themselves on ritual or political grounds, but the young N E P U followers of both seemed to be united within the fold. Religious brotherhood politics entered into Aminu's tactical thinking principally as a defensive measure, since the thrust of his ideology was away from any mysticism that tended to enshroud religion, and toward the separation of temporal and religious authority. If one segment of religious thinkers fell in as natural allies to achieve this goal, they were welcomed; and if one segment attacked this liberating approach, he would defend against it—and counterattack. While these efforts at repair and rebuilding of political alignments were going on in Kano, a region-wide effort was progressing simultaneously. In the southernmost sections of the North, known as the Middle Belt, the move toward an independent state had progressed even further than in Kano—to the point where the disaffection wtih the dominating NPC superstructure had precipitated rioting among the Tivs in 1960 and again in 1964. The United Middle Belt Congress, the principal opposition group in that area, led by

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Joseph T a r k a , had been associated with the Western-led Action G r o u p , but by late 1962 had broken with it. Their appeal to a N E P U convention in 1961 for unity in the N o r t h was rejected by A m i n u and the N E P U leaders, but it did indicate long-standing community of interest. Thus when affiliation with Action G r o u p was no longer a factor, a series of conferences took place between A m i n u and T a r k a . These led eventually to a formal alliance, known as the Northern Progressive F r o n t ( N P F ) , in October 1963.- 1 Over the years, N E P U had supported the b r e a k u p of the monolithic Northern Region, to give adequate voice to the larger minority groups. The NPF was the logical outcome. T h e Kano People's Party, several smaller groups, and even some NPC dissidents were included in it. Shortly thereafter, the leaders of the southern regional parties, the NCNC and the Action G r o u p , consolidated their position by forming their own coalition. When the northern and southern groupings joined forces in the United Progressive G r a n d Alliance (UPGA), the polarization of Nigerian political forces was pretty much completed. The NPC succeeded in getting only the National Nigerian Democratic Party (NNDP) in the West and one or two small groups as allies. ( T h e N N D P was the party that broke away f r o m the Action G r o u p in a factional split in 1962, in order to remain in power in the Western Region when Awolowo, Enahoro, and company were jailed, ostensibly for treasonous activity.) Aminu had long sought such a polarization, looking toward a division on ideological grounds, but until then opportunism, local tribal loyalties, and corruption—with the attendant carpet-crossing — h a d been rife in all parties. The grouping into two m a j o r alliances lent some ideological substance to the oncoming federal election contest, for the Nigerian National Alliance, (NNA) the NPC-led group, was generally status-quo oriented and UPGA was geared toward liberalism, socialism, reform, and change. But obviously nepotism and self-seeking did not disappear with the formation of the two alliances. T h e UPGA people never really had a chance to hold power and consequently to be tested in action, and, as pointed out earlier in this chapter, motivations other than altruism had penetrated rather deeply into NCNC, Action G r o u p , and even into N E P U . In the North, the uniting of all opposition parties into one group revived Aminu's hopes of making a m a j o r impact. T h e N o r t h e r n Progressive F r o n t was a key to victory, for in the 1959 elections the

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Action Group and N E P U had split the a n t i - N P C vote in the North. If their unity produced even slight improvements in their position in the North, the Grand Alliance could become the majority party nationally and be called upon to organize the government. They even thought of possible organic unity, going from a Grand Alliance to Nigeria's first truly national party. What had been started in despair and demoralization had rapidly developed into a real possibility for significant progress. Moreover, there were strong indications that Aminu—because of the strategic importance of the northern opposition as well as the universal respect in which he was held—was a likely choice for Prime Minister in the case of an UPGA victory. None of this, of course, had an effect on Aminu's and NEPU'S major stumbling block, the power of the Local Authorities and the emirs of the north. Alliance and unity notwithstanding, they still had to face the continuing repression and intimidating presence of authoritarian police and civilian administration. The NPC recognized this in considering the oncoming election battle. With the effective regional state apparatus at their disposal, its leaders were not too worried about the North, but the West was crucial. So long as their ally, the NNDP, retained control of government in the West, as did the NPC in the North, together they could continue to dominate the country. However, the unpopularity of the N N D P in the West was fairly apparent, and draconian measures were indicated. As the elections drew nigh, charges were levelled by UPGA leaders that the governments of the Western and Northern Regions were forcibly preventing UPGA candidates from even filing their nominating petitions and posting their bonds; that meetings and campaigning were flagrantly prohibited. Political thugs attacked and fought back openly in the streets. In a letter to the Provincial Commissioner on December 3, 1964, Aminu charged, "Aminu Abdullahi was said to have been beaten up . . . and thrown like a dog into the police cell . . . and died in the night [several hours later]." At the N E P U headquarters in Kano, confused and disoriented political refugees appeared, homeless after their farms had been burned to the ground. The N E P U officials gave each of them a few shillings per day and a spot on the ground to lay their heads. Their numbers grew as the election approached, building up to over a thousand people with their entire families. Together with the fees

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for the lawyers hired to defend the party's victims, they represented a severe drain on NEPU'S election coffers. In the same letter mentioned above, A m i n u stated that " T h o u s a n d s . . . all of them [UPGA] by inclination . . . have been victims of tyranny by illegal arrests and lockup, by summary trials. . . . A w f u l stinking police cells have no more space for newcomers." Fred M c E w e n , in a personal interview in August 1969, recalled that "In 1964 in the North there was much violence—and beatings and imprisonment. I was in K a n o in September for two days when we conducted an around-the-clock investigation to prepare evidence on injustices, a huge endeavor. Aminu was 100 per cent with us and knew everything. H e was frustrated at times, of course, but remained constant. Everyone came to him for their needs. The pressure was tremendous. A lesser man would have broken down." The NHPU President-General met with Ibrahim M u s a Gashash, NPC party leader in Kano, to try to avoid bloodshed by arriving at some procedural agreement on the conduct of the elections. Gashash agreed to try to persuade his party leaders to avoid bloody clashes, but all to no avail. By the end of September, events had reached fever pitch. Daily entries in Aminu's diary read: September 2 8 , 1 9 6 4 K a n o arrests increase. See electoral committees re booths and protection of boxes. October 1 K a n o situation still hot. October 5 Waves of cold-blooded arrests of NPF members. October 15 M o r e arrests of leaders and supporters. October 16 M o r e and more refugees in N E P U offices. October 22 N P C - N N D P determined to win by any means. Letter f r o m Sardauna to me. During the last few weeks of the campaign, the violence rose to a crescendo. Pitched battles continued. Opposition supporters were stoned, homes and cars burned to the ground. T w o months before the election, Prime Minister Balewa called the leaders of all the parties to a conference and succeeded in getting everyone's agreement to a sixteen-point program for a peaceful and fair election— which everyone promptly ignored. President Azikiwe warned that the nation was approaching the breaking point and would split asunder if it continued its downward path toward national cataclysm.

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"As . . . the period . . . for the official nomination of candidates closed and the large number of unopposed candidates in the North [and West] became known to the UPGA leaders, they began to call for a postponement of the elections on the grounds that serious obstacles had been placed in the way of UPGA candidates attempting to secure official nomination in the Northern and Western Regions." 2 2 By December 28, two days before the scheduled election, the turbulence, the calls for postponement, the threats of boycott, and even possibilities of secession had reached such a point that President Azikiwe called on Prime Minister Balewa to delay the election six months. He further requested that the U.N. be asked to supervise the election. The Prime Minister refused, maintaining that postponement would be beyond his province, and under the jurisdiction of the courts. Three of the six members of the Federal Electoral Commission resigned on the eve of the election on the grounds that the chairman had announced there would be no postponement, without having secured the concurrence of the commission. When it became clear that victory would not be possible without being able to run candidates in many areas, with many of the candidates in jail, and with full NPC and N N D P control of the ballot boxes in both the North and the West, UPGA decided upon a lastminute boycott of the election. Communication and discipline in its ranks were not developed to the point where the vote could be cut off completely, but the more aware and disciplined ranks stayed away from the polls. The lopsided results were 200 seats for the NNA to 54 for UPGA, out of the 312 seats available. Aminu's constituency turned in a vote of 1,700 NPC to 690 NEPU, out of a possible total of 40,000 eligible voters. (In 1959, with a far smaller registration role, a vote of approximately 14,000 won the seat for Aminu.) A violent end of the first Federal Republic of Nigeria became an immediate possibility. Presaging events of a year later, the instability and lack of solid democratic roots has come to a head. After five days of intensive day and night consultations with Aminu, Tarka, and the NCNC and Action Group leaders, President Azikiwe and Prime Minister Balewa accepted a compromise advanced by Chief Justice Ademola of the Federation and Chief Justice Mbanefo of the Eastern Region, which permitted the Prime Minister to form a government of national coalition.

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Aminu and most of the rank and file of UPGA, including the militant Zikist Youth Movement in the East, regarded this settlement not as a compromise but as a sellout. Aminu knew that so long as the election was not completely nullified and so long as the aggressive, autocratic Sardauna and his cohorts continued to dominate the government electoral apparatus, no democratic solutions were possible. New elections in the East and a few constituencies in Lagos and the West were possible, but obviously could not be held in the North. By January 16, Action Group and NCNC, in top-level meetings, concluded that, temporarily at least, they would give the Balewa government a fair trial. In essence, what this did was to preserve the state of self-serving opportunism that had prevailed to that date. The Action Group would have a chance to recover its control in the Western elections coming up that year; the NCNC would dominate the Middle West and the East; and the Northern Progressive Front would be left at the mercy of the Northern Region's apparatus of repression. "When Zik and Abubakar Tafawa Balewa agreed," observed Fred McEwen, "there was too much compromise. As far as the North was concerned, the N E P U would have been destroyed, with no future." 2 : ! All this just as the country was approaching a major climax; just as the opportunity for the full flowering of a national culture and economy was within its grasp; just as it knocked on the gates of an unlimited future.

- 1 1 Nadir

While gamboling through the open fields of his political adolescence and early manhood, Aminu had been certain that Nigeria could not advance if the old emirate system survived. He had rejected the possibility of any blend of traditional and modern innovative government into a viable, progressive form, via constitutional monarchy. The entire traditional structure had to be eradicated—in essence, a revolutionary approach to eliminating the form as well as the power of class dominance. In the political arena, his ideas were gradually altered. By midJanuary 1965, with the electoral and post-electoral crises behind him, he arrived at the reluctant and bitter realization that the talakawa were not strong enough, united enough, courageous enough, or enlightened enough to throw off the ancestral yoke, though they might welcome such an upheaval once it was achieved. The combined total power of the British overseers, the federal authorities, and the local traditional rulers had been and remained just too much for them. Aminu had joined the struggle initially to eliminate the reinforcing power of the British, and was arrested several times in the process, but he hadn't fully sensed that the real value of the British to the traditional rulers was to train their successors in the use of modern techniques of suppression and enforcement of power, before they stepped aside. The elections of 1951 were a new governmental procedure to which the emirs had not yet worked out an adequate response, with the N E P U victories a result. But feudal rulers quickly learned that a combination of modern and traditional forms—clientage, religion, intimidation, jailing, brutalization to the point of murder, preventing opposition candidates from filing, ballot stuffing, and so on—was extremely effective. While the British were on the scene, 212

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the more overt forms of suppression were controlled, and the 1959 federal elections had the semblance of fairness. But in 1964, the first post-Independence elections, all stops were removed. Aminu's nationalistic approach and his alliance with southerners (NCNC) had just not been enough. Either the entire system had to be overthrown or one had to gain control of the top in some way, in order to impose changes and eliminate traditional government on the local level. During the 1964 elections Aminu and his allies attempted to combine forces throughout Nigeria to wrest central control from the entrenched northern traditionalists, and subsequently impose another target goal upon them, i.e. local democratic government. The attempt had failed. Nevertheless, failure was somehow not an acceptable concept for Aminu. Though he had participated actively in the negotiations immediately following the elections, he felt that the compromise worked out was a return to the old politics, which had yielded such bitter fruit in the past. The UPC.A alliance had completely abandoned the North to the power barons. Even the more progressive element in the NPC was silent, afraid that to speak out against terror at that point would be political suicide. N E P U hastily convened top-level meetings, not only to discuss its future but to try to fend off impending bankruptcy, an aftereffect of the disastrous federal elections. A bad tumble down a flight of stairs, resulting in a broken ankle, did nothing to help Aminu maintain an even keel in those troubled times either. Even Shatu, his wife, contributed to the turbulence by exploding a minor personal feud against some visitors paying courtesy calls. Although the elections had been boycotted by the Northern Progressive Front, several UMBC candidates, including Aminu's colleague Joseph Tarka, were elected from the non-Moslem areas of the Northern Region. In spite of the existence of a supposedly "broadly based" coalition government, Tarka had not been chosen by NCNC to represent them as a cabinet minister. And to add insult to injury, by February 15, a short month and a half after the elections, Tarka was jailed, again for "use of abusive language against the Sardauna," this time for four months. The disruption had been so great that no one knew what was left of the N E P U apparatus. Thousands of sympathizers had become

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refugees, their property destroyed, party records confiscated. No matter how disoriented were the remnants of the political movement, Aminu and the central working committee felt they had to convene another N E P U congress, to determine where to go from there. Radio announcements and word-of-mouth communication notified potential participants, for direct, organized contact had broken down in many cases. A "White Paper on Political Problems Facing Nigeria" was prepared to present to the assembled group, assessing N E P U ' S role and possible organization changes. Amazingly, more people showed up than at any previous convention. Hundreds of branches sent delegates and even paid their convention fees (increased to five pounds per branch from the two pounds required at past conventions). It was an inspiring revival of spirit for them and gave them courage to go on, even if in low key. Though there was some internal dissent, what dominated the convention were the suggestions for unifying all the opposition elements in the North, including N E P U , the new Kano State Movement, and the United Middle Belt Congress, into one organic progressive party. Even the possibility of calling on southerners from East and West to join them in an all-encompassing national party was discussed. Aminu's presidential message outlined the basic needs for his country, considering the possibilities of ( 1 ) a presidential or parliamentary system; ( 2 ) creation of new states; ( 3 ) changes in the judicial system; ( 4 ) guarantees of law and order; ( 5 ) changes in electoral law; ( 6 ) improvements in economic and educational development; and ( 7 ) alterations in foreign policy. Today almost all of these reforms have been begun or accomplished, or are being actively considered in the post-military era. Specific demands for separate Kano and Middle Belt States have already been met. Pleas for scholarship aid, even addressed to the impoverished NEPuites, almost immediately yielded a dozen scholarships for Northern students to study in the Eastern Region. Judicial reform is well under way. Some of the people associated with the Kano People's Party, formed in 1963 and merged with N E P U for the 1964 election, began to feel they were being swallowed up and thought of breaking away to form an independent group. Aminu the tactician came to the fore

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at that point. He, together with the N E P U leaders, the leaders of the two factions of the KPP, and some dissident NPC members, formed a new non-party group known as the Kano State Movement. On April 14, 1965, a mass meeting to launch the new organization brought out what was reputed to be the largest crowd in Northern Nigerian political history. 1 Ahinadu Trader, Aminu's long-time ally, was chosen its first president and Aminu its political adviser. At the time, Mallam Aminu's role in this local alliance was questioned by some of his associates, as well as some independent academic observers, for many of the KPP people were supporters of the former Emir Sanusi and perpetrators of the grossest attacks on Aminu and his party. Yet it was part of Aminu's political pattern to work with persons of any ilk who accepted his basic goals, no matter how temporarily—and the KPP people had come into his party, not vice versa. In this instance, as in many others in the past, when he and his political boat were in danger of being capsized, he managed to weather the severe storms, to stay afloat on the political high seas. He was functioning more out of inertia than out of conviction during this low point in the year 1965, making only what seemed to be the obvious tactical moves. He labored to tie together the disparate elements in Kano that were uniting around the cry for an independent Kano State. He rejected an N C N C offer of 150 pounds a month for personal sustenance because all his associates were completely ignored. He conducted discussions with the U M B C leaders to try for all-Northern unity or an all-Nigerian party. But he lacked conviction. Though his tactics continued at a fast pace, his strategy needed réévaluation—and somehow without strategy to tie his thoughts together, he tended to lose heart. To recognize that the stage was not yet set for the real-life drama he had written did not mean that the play was invalid. If he thought of leaving politics at that point, it was more in terms of a moratorium than a defeat. The electoral process, at least in Nigeria, was failing him. H e could not see through the morass of continuously building up a powerful opposition force, that was crushed periodically with each election attempt, destroyed hundreds, and damaged thousands. The popular appeal of his crusade remained but it was no longer an ever-

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growing democratic opposition. It was more like a tide past its peak, with each succeeding wave breaking high on the beach but exposing a little more sand as it receded. A man is a man, is a man, is a man-—Aminu was getting tired. There seemed to be only careful retrenchment in the offing. The Western Region election was building up into another major crisis of violence, repression, and conflict. And Aminu needed a break— time to stand off and reassess, time to reflect. For the first and only time in their long political relationship, Prime Minister Abubakar became suspicious of Aminu's motives. His conviction that Aminu always moved out of suasion, not malice, was shaken when some of his ministers told him that not only was he, the Prime Minister, threatened with bodily harm from an UPGA plot that had been hatching, but that Aminu knew about it and had said nothing—and Abubakar was angry. It took some months of ferreting about for information and subsequent explanations to convince him that these accusations were fabricated out of whole cloth with evil intent. Shortly after Abubakar finally realized and acknowledged his mistake, he asked Aminu to do a short tour of duty at the U.N. in New York City. The assignment came at just the right moment. The Western Region elections had been held in mid-October 1965, under conditions of virtual civil war and chaos. The ruling N N D P had declared itself victor in the face of overwhelming evidence of majority support for its opposition, the combined Action Group-NCNC. Campaign turmoil degenerated into post-election chaos. It was obvious to Aminu and most political leaders that drastic measures were necessary. But what? In this unsettled frame of mind, he arrived in New York City and went through the routines of his assignment, but remained meditative, seemingly remote from those around him. Six weeks earlier, he had visited Tanzania and gotten a picture of "African oneparty democracy" as practiced there directly from the lips of its high priest, President Julius Nyerere. Perhaps that might work in Nigeria under other circumstances, but surely not in his strife-ridden country at this moment in history. The temptation to go into the NPC and try to win control away from the reactionaries was ever-

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present, but Aminu knew that all those who had attempted political infiltration in the past had been swallowed up and lost. All the opposition elements in the North were approaching organic unity. In the South, UPGA, too, had a semblance of unity. But another sellout such as the one following the federal elections of 1964, if repeated in the West, with each sycophant grabbing for a bigger share than the next, would be disastrous. H o w could he think of returning to electoral politics under these circumstances? Aminu's political life had followed that of Nigeria very closely, originating in 1942, just as Nigeria was emitting its first peeps of national birth. H e was organizer or an integral part of every "first" in Northern Nigeria as the country matured into nationhood: its first regional organization, first trade union, first cultural organization, first political party, and so forth. At Independence, he was emerging as a statesman and an ardent adherent of a rapid forward movement. Now he found himself at his own nadir at the very moment when his country's existence as a nation was at its lowest ebb. Corruption was r a m p a n t in East, West, and North. The iron fist was using every means at its disposal to victimize and eliminate opposition. Aminu was despondent. H e had no public office, his party was off balance, still trying to recover f r o m the last shock inflicted on it and already bracing itself for another in the near future. T h e setting up of underground cells was considered, if it became necessary. Those who had been through years of self-sacrifice were beginning to be convinced that their cause was not going anyplace and now was the time to look after a personal career; there were ample opportunities for capable men who were ready to put u p with the status quo. During this depressing year, 1965, A m i n u had advised a number of his colleagues to find positions in which they could be self-sustaining over a period of time yet remain available for a more propitious political moment. A m i n u himself seemed ready for a quiet retreat in which he could hibernate, to prepare for the political spring which some day would surely come: a seat on the sidelines long enough for the alignment of forces in his country to change sufficiently to bring him back for another try; perhaps an ambassadorial post remote from the turmoil he inevitably faced while in Nigeria.

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The annual meeting of the U.N. Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD) in preparation just about that time seemed a good start. His position on the U.N.'s Second Committee (Economic Affairs) as one of Nigeria's politico-economic representatives, enabled him to make constructive suggestions to the Ministry of Trade regarding Nigerian's efforts in this area and at the same time to inform Lagos of his own availability as Nigerian delegate to this conference upon completion of his U.N. stint. His suggestion was well received by both the Prime Minister of Nigeria and the Minister of Trade. 5 A notation in Aminu's diary on January 5, 1966, read: "Saw Prime Minister—settled U N C T A D appointment.") Aminu felt this would give him a satisfactory perch from which he could consider new political initiatives when the moment for action would present itself. So with the assurance that he would be back in New York in two or three weeks, he returned to Lagos, leaving a portion of his personal effects in the home of friends to be picked up upon his return. It was, in fact, three years before he returned. The January 1966 coup intervened, precipitating the rush of subsequent upheavals that drastically revolutionized Nigeria's basic relationships—and Aminu's along with them. During Aminu's forty-day absence from Lagos the struggle and killings which followed the Western Region elections had continued unabated. On December 30, the day of his return, he was greeted with the news that several northerners had been killed in the Western Region. In an extended discussion with the Prime Minister 3 Aminu warned his friend Abubakar that Akintola, the declared but shakily installed Premier of the Western Region, had the confidence of no one. He should resign or be removed, and a caretaker government installed under federal auspices. But Abubakar stated his belief that the easterners were plotting all this disruption in the West, and that they would get their comeuppance. He reassured Aminu with, "Don't worry, Molotov, everything will work itself out." The implication was that dissension was being fomented against Okpara in the East, in retribution for his disruptive role in the West—almost a guarantee that things would not work themselves out. On January 6, Aminu left Lagos for Kano, where a Kano Province N E P U conference had been set up to try to work out a

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modest modus vivendi for continuing as a party, N E P U was moving closer and closer toward unity with the other opposition elements in the North—this in the face of the disarray in the country and in N E P U - N C N C - U P G A party alignments growing out of the Western Region anarchy. Further complicating matters was a rank-and-file crisis of confidence in the N C N C leadership during that year, when the very dubious post-electoral coalition compromise left the leaders and their organization at loggerheads. Upon his arrival in Kano, Aminu was given a message by Shatu, his wife, that his former teaching associate at Maru, Abubakar Gumi, now Grand Kadi (Chief Justice) of the Northern Region courts, had telephoned and wanted him to return the call immediately. Aminu did so, to learn that Northern Premier Ahmadu Bello had asked the Grand Kadi to arrange an urgent and secret meeting as soon as possible. After the Sardauna's return from Mecca on January 10, a meeting was arranged at the Grand Kadi's home in Kaduna on Sunday, January 16. The rendezvous never took place, for on January 15, the Sardauna was killed by the soldiers who conducted the first military coup. What the substance of the conference would have been can only be conjectured, but a day or two after the Sardauna's demise, Aminu consulted Abubakar Gumi, the only other person aware of the projected meeting, who thought that the Sardauna was attempting to mend the home fences, in the face of his troubles in the south. It was the Grand Kadi's opinion that the Sardauna might have been having second thoughts about the extent of the northern repression and wanted to work out some sort of electoral agreement for the impending Northern Regional Assembly elections. The month of January 1966 ushered in a totally new era for both Nigeria and Aminu, one marked by the attempt to impose national unity through military rule and civil war. Ordinarily, leaders of men, when faced with a sudden military takeover, have to fall in line or retreat into involuntary retirement in order to survive. Aminu's creative approach to politics found a third course open to him: subtle resistance and gradual organizational involvement, while remaining on dry shores out of the easily reached marshes of illegality and subversion.

-12-

Crossroad

T h e end of 1965 f o u n d A m i n u K a n o at a vital crossroad. H e was at a low ebb, his m o r a l e wilted, his party beaten a n d battered, with no representation in either the N o r t h e r n Regional or Federal Parliament. N o matter that it was because of the conscious boycott of the Federal election and open brutalization of N E P U ' S m e m b e r ship. T h e party supporters were discouraged t o o — o u t of work and discriminated against. Aminu was advising m a n y of the party cadres to go back to the jobs they had left before becoming organizers, so that a core of right-thinking people would be on hand, to be rea w a k e n e d and reorganized at a propitious m o m e n t . T h e y were all thinking in terms of a holding action, for the country was too disrupted to permit continued political activity. T h e n the lid blew off. T h e military c o u p blasted onto the confused, strife-ridden political scene. " T h e immediate event behind the c o u p , " said one researcher, " a p p e a r s to have been a meeting between the N o r t h e r n and Western Premiers, during which it was widely believed that the decision had been m a d e to use the army to impose a drastic solution to the disorders precipitated by the Western Regional elections." 1 Whether or not this course was actually projected, evidently the five army m a j o r s who p l a n n e d the c o u p thought so, a n d moved swiftly to launch their historic blow. It is quite possible that the S a r d a u n a ' s desire to meet with A m i n u was related to these behind-the-scenes events, but A h m a d u Bello's sudden death m a d e his plans quite unascertainable. P e r h a p s the c o u p plans misfired, as seems to be the case. Nevertheless, the rapidly breaking events started on the night of Friday, J a n u a r y 14, with the assassination of t h e S a r d a u n a and Akintola, the N o r t h e r n and Western R e g i o n a l Premiers, Federal

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Prime Minister Abubakar Tafawa Balewa; Ekotie-Eboh, a cabinet member; and a significant number of high- and low-ranking military officers. Major General Aguiyi-lronsi, the general officer commanding the Nigerian army at the time, intervened to form an interim military government, with the blessings of, and in consultation with, what was left of the federal cabinet. Though Major Chukuma Nzeogwu, the leader of the five majors who initiated the rebellion, successfully took over the Northern Region, within three days he reluctantly agreed to call off the coup and to accept his superior officer's rule over all of Nigeria. He received assurances from Ironsi that none of the officers and men involved in the coup would be punished, and that none of the politicians against whom the coup was executed would be returned to office. He was convinced that the stated objective of the coup—the establishment of a strong and united nation free of corruption, tribalism, and regionalism—would be carried out. By Tuesday, January 18, Major Nzeogwu appeared publicly with Major Hassan Katsina, Ironsi's newly appointed Military Governor in the North, to state that they were working together in the national interest. 2 All this in spite of the fact that his group evidently had no intention of installing Ironsi if the coup had been completely successful nation-wide. In turn, Ironsi showed his lack of good intentions when, after guaranteeing Nzeogwu safe conduct to Lagos, for talks, he promptly had him arrested upon arrival there. The military takeover was greeted with much enthusiasm by people throughout the country, though understandably the reaction of the old NPC and traditional leaders of the North had an element of "wait and see." The fact that northerners were by far the principal victims and that no Ibos were executed; that Ironsi, his advisers, and all five majors were Ibo, rendered these leaders of the newly formed government suspect in a country that had been brought up to and over the brink, by the violent, ethnically tainted political turmoil of the preceding year. But the less thoughtful, more emotional and impulsive members of NEPU were elated by the January events. They saw their old enemies, the political representatives of the feudal lords, being turned out—and what could be better? As fonner allies of the southerners, they assumed that they would be given power in the North and that they would be the ones to administer the long-

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sought-after local reforms, thus eliminating the despised "family compact" rule. As in the past, however, the majority of the N E P U members looked to Aminu for leadership and guidance. He approached the new situation soberly, advising caution to all whose ear he could reach, telling them not to rush into anything half-cocked. He suggested that the more exuberant democratically minded northerners temper their reactions and observe the further moves of the new military regime. He knew the possible pitfalls—the twin evils of ethnicity and personal opportunism. Transfer of power did not guarantee by any means that the problems of corruption and regional rivalry for control of the center would be solved. From all corners of the nation, telegrams and statements of support for the new regime poured in. But Aminu waited a bit, eventually sending a cautiously worded telegram on behalf of the N E P U , wishing the government well. He did not swear allegiance, as most others had done, but expressed the hope that the regime would be able to fulfill its national tasks of unification, democratization, and development. As events unfolded, Aminu's precautions seemed to have had some basis. Whatever Ironsi's capacity as a hard-drinking general officer, or as a field officer in the Congo or Tanzania, when ensconced on the seat of power he proved to be far from an astute political strategist. The obvious move to unify the country upon his assumption of power would have been to look for allies in the four regions. Since Nzeogwu's "mutiny" had decapitated the politically "in," and much of the military leadership of the North, to move quickly to find supporters there was essential. Aminu, leader of the northern opposition for a decade and a half, revered by large segments of the northern population and respected by all its sectors, was the obvious one to whom to turn. Why Ironsi and his advisers did not do so remains an unanswered question. Martin Dent, in a penetrating article, points out that "among the radicals, Ironsi rapidly made enemies where he might have made friends. Within three months of his coming to power, Tarka, Aminu Kano and Maitama Sule were meeting in Kano to consider how to meet what they regarded as a common threat to Nigeria." 3 It was not until April 16, three months later that Ironsi deigned to give Aminu an audience in Lagos. At the meeting, Aminu tried to discuss the problems of the North with the Supreme

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Commander and how to meet them, but to no avail. Ironsi, Aminu reports, visibly speaking through an alcoholic haze, spent threequarters of an hour haranguing him with a jumbled concept of how to unify the country. He never stopped to listen, never gave Aminu an opportunity to suggest an alternate course of action. Thereafter, if Aminu wanted to transmit his ideas to the Supreme Commander, he had to communicate through the Emir of Kano, a somewhat unreliable transmission belt for his radical ideas. The arrival of the military on the national scene in all likelihood could have changed the picture drastically, had those who succeeded in seizing power chosen to pursue revolutionary goals. But they didn't. It became clear to Aminu that the Ironsi regime had no such plans in mind when they turned for northern support, not to the radical forces he himself represented, or even to the more enlightened leaders of the NPC, but to the very autocrats whose power he was hoping to vitiate. "To the radical element in the North, it did not appear that there had been any significant changes in the North". 4 Not until the second coup did these goals come in sight once again. Meanwhile the welcome and elation which greeted the January upheaval were quickly dissipated. Instead of looking to the people, Ironsi was leaning heavily on the entrenched upper level of the civil service and the tradition-encrusted emirs, the chiefs, and their advisers. It was more like an attempted revival of the old indirect rule of the British colonialists. And this antiquated administrative concept was no longer viable. This was a strange, confusing period in Nigeria's history, and Aminu's role was even more so. Knowing full well that the chiefs and emirs would fight democratization and the updating of political organization, Aminu had hoped to impose these concepts upon the local emirate governments by gaining control of the center. So long as his alliance with southerners kept the door open to the possibility of this achievement he maintained it, despite mounting disillusionment with their role and a steady stream of blatant attacks from the more conservative northerners. And now the southerners who were in control in Lagos showed no signs of concern for the democratization process. F o r the past fifteen years, the regional structure had been growing in power. With the events culminating in the abdication of the Emir of Kano, it had firmly and unequivocally established itself

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as the dominant force in the North. Yet those who had wielded regional power up to that point were also being bypassed. Aminu felt that the rudderless group that remained, particularly those who had quietly supported his goals from within the NPC, could be utilized in the struggle—just as he had attempted to do with the followers of the deposed Emir of Kano in 1963-1964. But the former NPC leaders who had survived the coup all ran for cover. The less they were seen at that point, the better they liked it, for the corruption and nepotism of the political days had all been laid at their feet. As individuals they wanted dissociation—a moratorium on political activity to permit the country to simmer down and find some order, some direction. What was left? A vacuum. Someone had to intervene, to defend the North's interests against the encroachment of Ibo tribal domination—or so it seemed to the northerners. In the interim, all political activity was restricted and discouraged, though not officially banned. "Aminu was never a follower, only a leader. . . . The North was like a brood of chicks, old enough to appreciate the need for leadership, but not mature enough to lead." 5 Aminu at this juncture had to make momentous decisons. He had been a federalist, a One Nigeria man all his political life. Now he was faced with what he interpreted as an attack on the integrity of the North, and no one else was in the wings waiting and available to organize its defense. As had been his destiny since his schooldays, he rose from the depths of his political depression, daring once again, with his colleagues still nudging him forward. On the one hand, he undoubtedly could have advanced his own cause by capitulation; on the other, if he moved where his impulses were directing him, he would risk the wrath of the military government. But counterbalancing these negative considerations, and all-important to him—he had to decide what was right for his country and his North. And unless Ironsi declared the North an "education disaster area" in order to raise its level, no proper federation would be possible. Thus, what on the surface might have seemed to be flip-flopping, could be interpreted as a deft utilization of changing forces to achieve a long-range purpose. Some observers at the time thought that Aminu would have been even more consistent had he tried to weld the common people of the East and the North together at the

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same time, but as the days went by, the feasibility of such a course evaporated. T h e conviction grew in A m i n u that cooperation and national unity were not in the offing, even though consolidation at the center was. T h e new word was "unification," but Aminu, attuned to the North and its needs, read this in only one way; domination. The sands of nebulous political alignments had shifted once again. Aminu's long-smoldering fear of southern domination had finally culminated in what he considered a genuine and serious threat to the development of his first love, Northern Nigeria, and had altered the balance. He l'elt that, to remain true to his original goals, he now had to look beyond N E P U for alliances with northerners who had been his former enemies, against southerners who had been his former allies. He was searching for a means to emerge with his principles intact, from the bottom of the well where he found himself, his party and his ideals. In the meantime there was an immediate practical problem. With no politics, and no money, Aminu, as well as his former associates, had to find some means of subsistence. He rather enjoyed the process, and did find work of a nonpolitical nature. T h r e e of his friends in Kano—Sani Darma, A h m a d u Trader, and Y a h a y a S a b o — included him in a small trading company which they organized, called the Northern Nigerian Food Supply and Transport Service. They rented an office, secured transport, and began by purchasing yams in the Benue area and shipping them northward to Kano. Aminu, as has been pointed out, never had much of an acquisitive drive, nor any interest in ostentatious accumulation. But somehow if he thought of it at all, he felt that if politics ever failed him there would always be something he could d o — b e it in teaching, or civil service, or business. H e was never bothered by the deep concern of individuals in Western-oriented culture for their welfare in old age, or the need to put aside some small (or large) nestegg on which to retire. H a u s a culture has always required that an indigent be provided with food and shelter by a close or distant relative, so that no matter how poor or undeveloped the region, there was a kind of built-in social security system. O n a higher economic plane, this cultural pattern could give rise to a serious social problem known as nepotism. But A m i n u , with his group orientation, lacked a sense of private property and never seemed to k n o w where his pocket gave

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out and where his friends' and neighbors' pockets began. When his income from politics was regular, and greater than his fellows', his capital never accumulated either through excessive in-flow or limitation on the out-go. The outward flow, however, would stop sharply when begging in any form was involved, or when it was obvious that the largesse would be dissipated—for example, by an alcoholic. He much preferred to give money for education or economic advancement, helping people to help themselves. Later, when he had to build a new home and tried to gather together the funds to pay for it, he found others around him pitching in too—a rug, cement, furniture, and so on. These items were less an attempt to curry his favor (he was in a far from favored position at that point) and more a recognition that Aminu Kano had denied himself sums when they were available to him, unlike many other politicians. But the need to provide sustenance could never amount to a full-time occupation for Aminu. He could think only in social and political terms, even in a period when politics was forbidden. Now as always, Aminu's ability to maintain friendly relationships with men of all shades of opinion stood him in good stead. Recall that these relationships included not only men like the Sardauna and Prime Minister Abubakar, but also extended to most of the lesser lights in the NPC and the traditional authorities as well (the Sultan of Sokoto, the Emir and Madaki of Kano, the Waziri of Bornu, etc.). Many of them had been his teachers or pupils, so he could approach them on a personal basis with ease. Though in the past most of the NPC leaders had moved only with the express approval of the Sardauna, their feelings on his death were ambivalent. ( " T h e attitude of the northerner always varied between veneration and dread and still does to some degree. When the ruler disappears, the dread does too, but what of the veneration?") 0 Everyone breathed more freely, but in no sense did they feel unfettered. They gave Aminu their quiet blessings and wished him success. "We all knew that Aminu Kano could never betray the North and that he knew the Ibos better than anyone else because of his associations." 7 H e moved carefully about the country, using his personal friendships as an excuse for his travels, reporting all his movements to the military. H e had to pay condolence visits to Abubakar Tafawa Balewa's mother and widow in Bauchi and his cousin in Katsina. He called on the Sultan of Sokoto after the Sardauna's demise. He went

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to Lagos to see Ironsi. En route, he tried to allay the northerners' fears as much as possible, and to placate and calm the populace while bringing together those who mattered to discuss their common future. When it seemed that the Ironsi regime was turning more and more to the chiefs and emirs, he had to exercise extreme care to avoid being jailed or provoking repressive measures. Everywhere he found former NPC and NEPU leaders in agreement with his ideas, and a readiness to accept him as their spokesman and replacement for the vacated seat of leadership. But many of Aminu's friends and supporters were unable to think in these terms of new alignments, new allies. They found it difficult to follow the complicated maneuvers and consequently new cleavages opened wide. Men like Lawan Dambazau, a loyal and devoted NEPU associate from the early political years, were finding themselves outside the pale. Lawan had always enjoyed being at the hub of organization. Yet now Aminu and his associates did not include him in their activities. When Aminu started moving around the countryside to try to unite the North, he avoided discussion with Lawan or anyone else not directly involved in the process. When Constitutional Committee hearings were held in Kano, at which NEPU and NPC people testified, Lawan was left out. He assumed that Aminu was responsible and since he was not in a position to analyze the shifting and broadening of the struggle, he was understandably suspicious of Aminu's role. He felt that perhaps the former NEPU president was being groomed for big things and was leaving his old associates in the lurch. But Aminu quietly went his way, closelipped, communicating only what was pertinent and only when called upon. Certain other former associates who rigidly retained the strategic approach of the 1950's believed he was abandoning them ideologically, so that a strong, swirling undercurrent of confusion and dissatisfaction developed for a time. Aminu, in his effort to be effective and yet circumspect, did little to dispel these doubts. He advised everyone to reserve judgment and not to be too hopeful. It was the subsequent chain of events, not persuasion, that was most effective in eventually winning the recalcitrant ones over to support his position. Several groups in the North other than the former politicians— notably the students, the Ibos, and the civil servants—had views clearly germane to the situation at hand. Sani Zangon Daura, now a

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c o m m i s s i o n e r for the North C e n t r a l State, s u m m e d up what he c o n sidered the students' attitudes at that t i m e :

" M y friends at the

University of L a g o s and myself ( I was a student t h e r e ) felt the Ironsi regime was attempting to d o m i n a t e the North. W e felt the only leader who could be trusted was A m i n u K a n o , f o r he was spotless. H e played the role of father of the northerners. A l l of us northern students—NPC ( m y p a r t y ) , NEPU, or non-party p e o p l e — a g r e e d that A m i n u should be leader, with n o question of p o l i t i c s . " 8 Evidently there was no other northerner of stature to w h o m they could turn during that period. T h e I b o population of the sabon garis of the northern cities, and K a n o particularly, had almost unanimously l o o k e d to A m i n u and the NEPU-NCNC for leadership, up to the time o f the first coup, with many of their leaders coming daily to A m i n u ' s h o u s e or office, seeking guidance. B u t on J a n u a r y 15, 1 9 6 6 the spigot had been opened and out

flowed

the waters of chauvinism and tribal pride.

The

parochial northern politicians had dominated up to then, but now it would be the Ibos" turn to call the shots, and the trail of I b o s who visited A m i n u began to peter out perceptibly. T h i s apparently was the interpretation of events by the I b o s as well as the Hausas. Ironsi was hailed by the Ibos as a leader and the military as the group that had put an end to the Sardauna. M a n y northerners reported that indiscreet I b o traders

flagrantly

displayed the Sardauna's photo in

the m a r k e t p l a c e with sneers and taunts: " T h i s is your leader? W h a t happened to him? T a k e c a r e the s a m e doesn't happen to y o u . " T o what extent these provocations actually t o o k place and contributed to the general ill-feeling is and was d e b a t e d widely, but it is quite clear that the H a u s a - F u l a n i masses believed this attitude of the I b o s was the prevalent one. T h e existence of this ethnic rivalry did not prove in any sense that it was the root cause of the political differences or group prejudice, but it most certainly did represent a serious source o f conflict. B e c a u s e of the interlacing of causes and effects, of the manipulators and manipulated, no o n e aspect o f the c o m p l e x could b e eliminated. T h e fact that self-hatred might have b e e n the r o o t of a group antagonism did not m a k e that anatagonism less real. T h u s , if T i v o r H a u s a hates and kills an I b o b e c a u s e h e feels that he himself has been denied a place in the sun and sees the industrious I b o m a k i n g

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his way up the ladder ahead of him, the motive still remains group hatred and ethnic prejudice. Coupled with economic deprivation, is this not generally at the root of social prejudice? One group gets ahead of another, sometimes stepping on the less favored on the way. The two groups develop anatagonisms—one with envy, the other with disdain. The presence of these antagonisms in themselves obviously didn't produce civil war, secessionist or coup attempts. It was only when changing objective conditions produced a combination of factors that such upheaval broke out. T o cite tribal anatagonisms as the cause of the upheavals of 1966 in Nigeria could be considered simplistic, but one can query: Would these 1966 eruptions have occurred if tribal antagonism had not been developed to the point it had? Although it is true that masses can be, and have been, manipulated for opportunistic gain, would this have been possible if the seeds of discontent had not already been sown in people's minds? Regional loyalties had been built on these rivalries, and over the years had been utilized for better or for worse, but mostly the latter. Thereafter the faucet couldn't be turned off at will, resulting in flooding and loss of control. In any case, the northern Ibos went unpunished for instead of taking punitive measures against the verbal excesses of the northern Ibos mentioned above, the local resentments were permitted to build up to the May violence. The civil servants, on the other hand, were called upon by the Ironsi regime to handle the administration of government, greatly enhancing their role. Aminu's influence among them, particularly the northerners, was more extensive than with any other group. Alpha Wali, in a personal interview, said, "His political opponents think of the civil servants as his disciples, even in some instances when there is no contact." They were not beholden to the politicos and their status was determined, at least to some degree, by standards somewhat removed from the political merry-go-round. In this way they could manage to stay off the ladder of opportunism and clientage, and to communicate their ideas to Aminu. One rather highly placed civil servant, who was in Kaduna at the time, reports that everyone in the North rejoiced when the first coup took place but that on January 22, 1966, when Abubakar Tafawa Balewa's

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death was announced, he and his colleagues were confused. They delegated him to go to Kano to consult with the Emir and Aminu Kano. He said, "They assigned me to go to Kano for discussions. . . . I was unable to see the Emir because it was Sallah time (a time for celebration in the N o r t h ) , but I spoke to Aminu. He said that though he had been sharply against the Sardauna's politics, he was never against him personally. [Aminu] was always against the idea not the man. . . . "We all decided that education and schools were the key. Our lack of these permitted the partial coup. . . . Aminu was the only one who stood as a brave man, not hiding his feelings, giving his advice to the military. He was for us a good consultant, including his ideas on education and commerce." 9 Another influential civil servant, when speaking about local reforms introduced at a later date, commented, "The best educated can usually be found in the civil service, and they tend to distrust traditional administration." Also, he said, "Most local reform was introduced by the civil service, but Aminu Kano's political activities set the stage." 1 0 This long-standing interplay between Aminu and the civil servants, particularly the young ones, was of great value to him in attempting to weld together a united northern front. Their evident distrust of traditional administration was also important, for the civil servants felt squeezed by what they came to regard as an Ibo rule from above, in Lagos, and the traditional rulers down below. Aminu, in his emerging new role, could well be their champion. By the end of February, the Lagos government appointed a committee for consultation and inquiry into constitutional review, headed by Chief Rotimi Williams. Its members circulated throughout the country, ostensibly to solicit the views of persons of note on how the nation should reorganize itself for the future. When they visited the southern areas, the committee consulted with persons at universities, churches, and at any nonpolitical center who might have ideas on the reorganization of the country. But in the North—since, in effect, all political consultation was banned—to ask for suggestions on constitutional change meant total reliance on the testimony of the local traditional authorities. Therefore, in order to present their own ideas, Aminu and his close friends met in the house of the former lawyer of NEPU, to prepare what they called a

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"yellow paper," opposed to unification and in favor of the creation of new states, women's vote, and democratization. (This paper eventually served as one basis for talks under the later Gowon government.) Aminu then petitioned Hassan, the Military Governor of the North, and the committee itself for the right to present the testimony of this group. In addition he wanted the leaders of thought in the North to get together to exchange views on a regular basis, as had already been done in the south. At the same time he met with other former colleagues and opponents to try to work out united views on the constitution and to pass them on to the Native Authorities or to the committee. Most of these leaders gave Aminu their blessings and hoped a representative conference could take place. The Committee for Constitutional Review had gone to Kaduna and Zaria before they arrived in Kano. They had heard opinions that evidently ran counter to the central government's preconceived and previously stated notion that a strong unified central control was to be the system of the future. 1 1 The Emir of Katsina even raised the question of the sincerity of a study group ostensibly looking for national unity, yet which had such gross underrepresentation for the North on the committee itself. Suspicion and mutual distrust grew rapidly. The times were tense. The committee received the local comments in Kano, including the N E P U memorandum, went on to Katsina, and then was suddenly recalled. Instead of further hearings, the next move from Lagos was Ironsi's ill-advised and now infamous Unification Decree # 5 , issued on May 24, stating: "The former regions are abolished and Nigeria [is] grouped into a number of territorial areas called provinces. "The public services of the former federation and regions become unified into one national public service under a National Public Service Commission. "On March 3, . . . press release . . . calling attention to the fact that political meetings were, in spite of my order, being held . . . leads me to the dissolving [of] all organizations of the type scheduled therein and banning [of] any manifestations of their political purposes." The Military Governor for the North, Hassan Katsina, summed up the situation simply with: "The egg is broken into a big omelette!" From a northern viewpoint, these harsh measures by the military

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in the face of evidence of strong regional disagreement were far from conciliatory and far from moving in the direction of Ironsi's stated aims of national unity. Rather, they proved to be the opposite, an extreme provocation. A myriad of elements in the North were driven to unite against the federal government. The masses felt threatened by the more aggressive and industrious Ibos in their midst. The radicals and minority groups were incensed by Ironsi's rejection of their goals of local autonomy and democracy, as well as of them as individuals. The traditional ruling groups, heavily dependent on their previously controlled regional governmental structure and no longer capable of freely manipulating the public will, could not conceive of themselves as being more than tools under Ironsi rule, for they saw their bases of power crumbling. And by extending the unification decree to the civil service, Ironsi alienated the last group of potential supporters, the civil servants. Obviously, the long-smoldering, multilevel differences between North and South could not simply be legislated away by decree. Unification meant elimination of any special consideration to northern civil servants, who generally trailed far behind the Ibos and other southerners in education and seniority of service. This group, perhaps the best organized and most articulate in the North, no longer felt the need to exercise any restraint upon the popular surge of anger. They openly showed their own opposition to the decree two days later, in a raucous but reasonably well-disciplined demonstration. About two hundred Kano students, the civil servants of the future, took to the streets, gave the Emir a written statement of their views to present to Hassan, and dispersed. Aminu, caught in the swirl of the protest, rescued one or two of his Ibo friends and urged any of them who came to him for advice to leave for the south immediately. The fever quickly spread to the masses, in all likelihood inflamed by disgruntled elements among the old NPC bureaucrats and traditionalists. The rioters, seeking to release their frustrations against more tangible targets than the government in Lagos, turned their ire against the Ibo traders in the larger towns of the North. By noon on the following day, the Ibos were attacked and had begun to defend themselves. The following day, May 28, the disturbances had spread to Kaduna and other urban centers, stopping only after

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hundreds of people, Hausas as well as Ibos, were killed in anger and in self-defense throughout the North. Ironsi's and his advisers' inept misreading of the reaction to his Unification Decree had resulted in disaster. Incredibly, despite this tragic eruption, Ironsi continued to push ahead, seemingly without regard for the consequences. After the M a y riots his response to a m e m o r a n d u m submitted by the Sultan of Sokoto to Hassan, stating the grievances of the North, was this: " T h e government now recognizes that one of the main reasons for the disturbances . . . has been ignorance of the government's real intentions"! 1 - Though the Sultan accepted this explanation and commissions of inquiry were set up, still no concessions of any consequence were made. The only action Lagos took was to turn even further toward the past, by convening a conference of emirs and chiefs in Ibadan at the end of July. While the emirs were still in Ibadan, Ironsi's regime was abruptly ended. After the M a y disturbances, an investigative tribunal headed by Sir Lionel Brett, an expatriate, and former supreme court judge, was established on June 27, and August 2 set for its first meeting. But the tribunal never met. T h e homes of a number of former politicians, including Aminu's, were searched, and the vast exodus of Ibos continued. With no mechanism to redress their grievances, many of them left, confused—with Aminu's name on their lips. In the words of Fred McEwen, former national secretary of the NCNC, ' T h e Ibos felt that his role wasn't what it should have been, that he should have done more for them, but I can't see what he could have done."13 Complicated as it must have been for him to maintain it, Aminu's circumspect behavior proved wise in the long run; for when the police ransacked his h o m e and the party headquarters, they found nothing of an incriminating nature. But some of the old NEPU stalwarts evidently did not f a r e quite so well. A peculiar and beclouded interplay was set up between Aminu and those who, for one reason or another, had not fully accepted his leadership during the previous few months. R u m o r s flew about that some people were trying to incriminate him in the M a y disturbances and, on the other hand, that these same people were in fact

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involved in stirring up the Hausas against the Ibos. The police reported that, in the course of searching the homes of these latter suspects, leaflets and other materials of an incendiary nature were found. The people involved (Lawan Dambazau and nine others, including one or two NPC people), were placed under arrest. Upon learning of their detention, Aminu reports that he immediately went to the police to demand the reasons. He was told by Ali Abdullah, one of the prisoners who was ill in the hospital, that if Aminu would make a statement in Ali's behalf, the police would release him. Aminu did so, but before such action was taken, the prisoners were shipped via police van to Kaduna, by order of the government and upon the advice of the then Provincial Secretary in Kano, a Mr. Nelson. When Aminu insisted that they be tried promptly, the court conducted an investigation and released them. But they were quickly rearrested and detained, on instructions telegraphed from Lagos. They remained in jail for approximately three months, until after the second coup, when with Aminu's urging, the security police released most political prisoners, including the above-mentioned group. It is difficult to get a reasonably objective picture of what actually happened between Aminu and these few of his former Kano associates during this period, for Aminu, in a relatively favored position today and being the person he is, can afford to be conciliatory. He tries to minimize what he considers an unfortunate difference during an indisputably difficult period. Similarly, the antagonists in the controversy, such as it was, are reticent to discuss those troubled times, since reconciliation has taken place, and there is now only one camp in any case. After his release, Lawan slowly began to visit Aminu's home, and to exchange the customary gifts, although he did so with some trepidation, for he feared there might be hostility. But Aminu greeted him cordially, though never quite with the old pre-coup intimacy. To bridge the gap and to try to find a place for Lawan, Aminu suggested that he undertake to write a history of NEPU—which he did, in reluctant and leisurely fashion. Lawan has also become involved in a trading business, since he did not consider writing as a full-time occupation. During the two months between the M a y disturbances and the second coup, Aminu was sent a questionnaire. Where and when was

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he at the time of the riots? What did he think caused them? And so on. But the federal administration did not seem to use the information or to adjust in any way. They continued to think that the Unification Decree would resolve all conflict. In point of fact, the reverse occurred. The conflict ate its way into the military instead. Rumors again flew back and forth—about impending coups and countercoups. The Ibos were going to kill all remaining northern officers, political leaders, emirs, and chiefs. The northerners were to do much the same to the Ibos. It rapidly became evident that in the unstable situation, the unresolved antagonisms were going to blow up once again. 14 It did. Ironsi was in Ibadan at the time, busy explaining to the twenty-four emirs and chiefs why the measures he had pushed through were good for Nigeria. The anti-corruption campaign was to be stepped up, he told them. Inefficiency in the civil service would be wiped out, and the military governors of the regions would be rotated. H e even suggested that the emirs be posted around Nigeria in similar fashion, an idea so alien to their concept of local loyalties that the Emir of Kano walked out of the meeting. The second coup was initiated on the night of July 29, but it was no more concluded as originally conceived than was the first coup. Kismet, the ancient Islamic belief that events will unfold in inexorable pathways, returned to the scene. Three Ibo officers were killed by their northern colleagues in Abeokuta Barracks, followed by similar actions throughout the country. "By ignoring the more radical politicians of the North, as well as the Action Group, and the old opposition, Ironsi had lost the chance of winning support from elements which had previously been in alliance with the south and could have made a bridge between opposing regions." 1 5 Within a scant six-month period, Ironsi had dissipated the tremendous surge of popular united support for him to the point of chaotic regional and ethnic dissension, the overthrow of his regime, and the threatened breakup of a nation. As Ironsi was being led out to be shot, on the night of the July coup, he thanked the northern officer in charge for his hospitality. The officer in turn saluted and said apologetically that he had his orders. Ironsi allegedly admitted complicity in the first coup under interrogation at this point, but no corroborating evidence has been

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produced to authenticate this. "In Ibadan—Ikeja—[and elsewhere the soldiers]—refused to let their officers interfere, while they killed their Ibo comrades and officers." 1 6 Brigadier Ogundipe, the army's most senior officer sent a fighting unit along the Lagos-Ikeja road to try to stem the mutiny, only to have the men of the unit ambushed and routed. He quickly realized that his control had been eroded, and hastily donned civilian clothes to depart for London. Gowon was put under guard by the mutinous soldiers and told that he was their choice for Commander-in-Chief. He subsequently achieved effective command power gradually over the next few days, as each of the few remaining members of the Supreme Military Council shifted their support to him.

-13-

Gowon and Civil War

It is not unreasonable to assume that when a corrupt, reactionary regime is overthrown, the rebels will be progressive a n d / o r revolutionary; and when a countercoup takes place, the reactionary regime will be reinstated. Many Nigerians, young and old, conservative and progressive, saw the circumstances of coup and countercoup in just this light. In retrospect, however, most of those conversant with their country's recent history, regardless of their political bent, feel that this was not the case. Aminu was one who quickly recognized that the rapidly shifting relationships which were developing were more complex than that, and almost immediately he set about to influence and organize accordingly. During the Ironsi period, he had to convince his former supporters not to rejoice prematurely, and the more cautious among the reformers not to run for cover. He even found himself reassuring his lifetime antagonists, the emirs, that traditional forms at least could be retained even if essential reforms took place. When Gowon took over the reins of government, Aminu was already busy circulating through the North, mustering potential allies. He urged the so-called leaders of thought to come forward to help determine the direction of the new government, rather than to sit on the sidelines, watching events unfold. By this time he had gathered together some of the better educated northerners into a self-appointed discussion group in Kaduna, which considered questions of political importance, such as local reforms, one-party government, and so on. Procedurally, discussion papers were presented and the positions advanced were accepted, altered, or rejected by the group. Among these leaders, Aminu was one who aggressively sought a way out of the maze of charges and countercharges, of whispers, factions, and plots; and he 237

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seemed to be the only one, in the g r o u p or out, who was ready to go beyond discussion. " F o r the last three months of the Ironsi regime, A m i n u was d o m i n a n t in the N o r t h " , 1 testified Ali Abdullah, a f o r m e r N E P U leader. W h e n Lieutenant Colonel Y a k u b u G o w o n b e c a m e head of the government, his attempts to secure b r o a d nation-wide support were enlightened enough to include leaders f r o m all segments of political thought. H e and the new military government recognized that, to gain the unity they sought, they had to move forward toward the goals of modernization and democratization, unlike the Ironsi group, which had tried to contain the masses in old traditional forms with o u t m o d e d techniques. Their turn toward the civilian leaders in all regions for r e c o m m e n d a t i o n s on reorganization of government evoked a quick response f r o m the K a d u n a based discussion group sincc they were already mulling over the problems at hand and ready with sober, practical ideas to present to the nation. Subsequently, when the official N o r t h e r n Nigerian "leaders of thought" convocation took place in K a d u n a , this group's previously prepared m e m o r a n d u m on new states was presented for discussion and A m i n u choscn to head the subcommittee considering the question. During the Ironsi regime, consultation in the North was almost exclusively limited to the emirs and chiefs. Any others who had ideas had to submit them indirectly through these traditional rulers. A t that time, A m i n u suggested to A d o Bayero, the Emir of K a n o , that he should do m o r e than pray. H e should act as a leader by starting to think of changes, f o r the power to m a k e changes in local government was his and the times d e m a n d e d it. H e agreed and asked A m i n u to submit suggestions to him in writing. W h e n A d o eventually presented these to the other leaders, they were accepted with cheers. H o w e v e r , he never did get a r o u n d to implementing them himself. H a s s a n Katsina, the Military G o v e r n o r of the North, h a d enjoyed the relative f r e e d o m of m o v e m e n t afforded him u p to that point by the exclusion of the politicians, and consequently he was u n d e r s t a n d a b l y reluctant to accept them as advisers. But u n d e r the insistent p r o d d i n g of A m i n u and his fellows, he e x p a n d e d the concept of using chiefs a n d emirs as counterparts to the leaders of thought, by f o r m i n g an advisory committee which included over o n e h u n d r e d northern leaders, representing all shades of opinion, f r o m

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all thirteen northern provinces. This group in turn chose six men (three representatives and three advisers) to go to Lagos to speak for the North in the constitutional conferences. Similarly, after a long, hard argument, Ha? tn was eventually prevailed upon to enlist the help of the leaders oi the three pre-existing northern parties: Makaman Bida, Joseph Tarka, and Aminu Kano. He asked them to make up a list of five people from each of their former parties, along with several representatives from the universities and the trade unions—a total of twenty-one—to form an official continuations committee. This group would meet monthly to explore issues, advise the Governor, explain government policies to the people, and so on. They continued right through to the post-civil war period, though they ended up having to deal with six separate governors instead of one. Aminu was a moving force in both groups, perhaps the most influential at the time in welding together some kind of united northern approach to the problems confronting the nation. As one of the North's six representatives sent to Lagos for the conferences, he played a significant back-room role in continuing to push for these agreed-upon policies. Lieutenant Colonel Gowon had instructed the all-Nigerian constitutional conference to consider four alternatives only: a federal system with a strong ( 1 ) or a weak ( 2 ) central government; confederation ( 3 ) ; or an entirely new arrangement for Nigeria ( 4 ) . He ruled out two extremes—a complete breakup of the country, or a unitary state. If the initial impetus of the northern army officers to withdraw from Lagos back to the regions had come to fruition, it would have been tantamount to secession of the entire North and break up of the country. However, in spite of the chaotic and totally unstable condition immediately following the coup, a rapid metamorphosis from a position of regional separation into the realization of the need for some form of national existence emerged through Gowon's own inclination as well as that of his fellow soldiers of Middle Belt and Tiv origins. The about-face of the military and the northern delegation gave the minorities throughout the country their first genuine opportunity to be heard, since regional autonomy would have insured dominance of the largest ethnic group in each of the four regions: the Hausa in the North, the Yoruba in the West,

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and the Ibo in the East as well as the Mid-West. With a sovereign voice at the federal level, minorities could appeal above the heads of the larger tribal groups. This new position was bolstered by internal pressure in that direction from influential senior civil servants led by Sule Katagum and backed up by Hassan Katsina, and external pressure from the British and American ambassadors. During the first month or two, Aminu actually consulted with the Supreme Commander no more than two or three times—once with a ten-man delegation from the North and a second time during the Ad Hoc Conference of leaders of thought in Lagos. At first, when Aminu heard that the military was unhappy with the position of the Northern delegation favoring a weak central government, he called Kashim Ibrahim, the head of the delegation, and together with several others, as a committee of five, met with Gowon. He, in turn, impressed them with the need for national unity and the fact that "The army was entrusted with keeping the country intact." Hassan Katsina was rung in too, and hastened down to Lagos to join the consultations. 2 Aminu's initial acceptance of a loose confederation had been a reluctant acceptance of the reality of the strength of the centrifugal micro-national tugs at the Nigerian corporate whole. Thus, when the army showed itself not only in favor of a strong central government but ready to defend its integrity, he welcomed it, for that had been his inclination throughout his political life. Chief Awolowo, leader of the Western delegation, was at first offended by the sudden shift, but came around. The only group who ultimately rejected the idea of retaining central authority was the Eastern delegation, led by Ibos, who were unfortunately still fearful and shaken by the reality of the ethnic tensions and country-wide disruptions. The key issue was the further breakdown of the regions into additional states. The great size, population, and power of the North remained the source of much apprehension for the three southern regions. When it had been discussed at the leaders-of-thought meetings in Kaduna, this matter of additional states had been approached with less than unanimity, though a majority seemingly was ready to accept the break-up of the Northern monolith as inevitable. Aminu, as chairman of the subcommittee on this question, submitted the group's recommendation for not more than fourteen or less than twelve states for the new Nigerian Republic. This suggestion was

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eventually used as the basis for the breakdown of the regions— exccpt that Aminu's subcommittee called for seven northern states and five southern, whereas the final choice was an evenly divided six and six. The Eastern Region delegation also objected to any proposals for additional states, reasoning that this approval would be a diversion from the real needs of the country and would only delay a durable solution. Quite conceivably, they were also reluctant to consider relinquishing their hold on their own oil-rich minority areas. Informed observers felt that no solution would have been acceptable to the Easterners that did not grant their region an independent sovereignty. Some feel today, in retrospect, that it was then that the Ibos decided on the eventual collision course of secession and separation. Aminu's diary contains the following notation for October 4, 1966: "Account of army mutiny most disheartening. Speed and action required. East on way to secession." At the conference in Lagos his last attempt to hasten the return to civilian government, was to approach "Awo, Kashim, Tony, and Eni" (leaders of the four regional delegations) to try to forge some kind of agreement on an interim government, but his efforts were abruptly interrupted by the disturbances in the North and the adjournment of the Ad Hoc Conferences. In the past, Aminu had had close political affinities with many of his southern counterparts, but in spite of the continuing turbulent disorders in the country, at this point he was evidently firmly convinced that the threat to the North under Ironsi had been real enough to make him shift his priorities. H e felt that the forms of government — h o w many states, a strong or weak central government, and so on —were less important than the need for a unified North. His concept of his role and that of leadership generally, was actually closer to the " H e r o " interpretation of history. The Marxist Plekhanov's thinking 3 that out of the interplay of the mass forces at work, emerges a representative of these forces who becomes the leader, was altered by him to make the individual a force unto himself, and his relationship to the social forces an integral part of the history-making process as well. Perhaps this accounted for the gap between him and his lieutenants in the past. Some innate charismatic inner strength pushed the individual into a position of leadership, not the careful nurturing of a chain of command, an orderly passing of

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the baton of leadership from the group leader to the next in line nor the emergence of a leader from the surging masses when the need arose. This approach, one might suspect, also permitted him to go outside organizational bounds to look for support. In spite of his insistence on a mass political constituency in constant dialog with the leader, and in spite of his lack of opportunistic ambitions, he seemed to look inside the individual for the inner drives toward leadership. He felt that he as a leader was beholden to the masses with whom he chose to identify and didn't necessarily feel restricted to his past intermediate associates. They too could find themselves roles to play serving this greater mass—and meanwhile the mass felt threatened by the Ibo who for some months past had seemed to them to be sitting over them as the oppressor incarnate. Despite the long-standing antagonism between northerners and southerners, the rank and file of the northerners were socially submissive. Traditionally, the talakawa were sedentary, fearful, and respectful of power. Not until the traditional authority figure appeared to give license to break the law was blood spilled on a large scale. The Ibo in the North never made any bid for power in the region; such antagonisms as existed were generally restricted to the economic sphere. Even the January 1966 coup did not provoke a violent reaction from the talakawa. That came only after Ironsi had antagonized the local leadership by denying them a share of the power at the center, and compounded their antagonism by the Unification Decree. Only then did the northern masses sense that their own leadership tacitly favored their taking matters in their own hands. The struggles that continued in Lagos under the Gowon government had the effect of permitting this lack of legal restraint to continue. A similar process was going on in the Middle Belt Tiv area as well as in the East and West. The rank and file moved only when they knew that the local power to keep order was weakened— through either disruption or sympathy. This social immobility and acquiescence of the masses could explain the success of the NPC and of the local authorities' intimidation of NEPU over the years and Aminu's attempt to inculcate non-violent techniques to his followers. Cultural intimidation through traditional, hierarchical, and religious stratification over the centuries was still a dominant factor in the North. 4

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The new government's efforts toward national reconciliation through consultation had been making good progress at the Ad Hoc Constitutional Conferences in Lagos and their regional counterparts, the leaders-of-thought meetings. Such rapid and wide-scale participation of civilian leaders from all regions and of all points of view had a profoundly settling effect both on the leaders and their more enlightened followers. On the other hand, this progress was greatly vitiated by the lack of discipline in the army, then the effective seat of power. The soldiers themselves were indulging in pogrom-like activities, and their unruliness in turn unleashed local savagery and hatred. In the North, thugs and other anti-social elements gave vent to their antagonism against what remained of the Ibo population, with accompanying counter-waves throughout the other regions. In retaliation, on September 23 a number of Hausas were killed in the East, in Port Harcourt and the Imo River area.r- The rumors and exaggerations emanating from news reports of these events triggered the massive, unprecedented killings of Ibos throughout the North in waves of mutual escalation. It was a sudden outburst of mass passion, seemingly encouraged by disgruntled elements among the civilian traditional leadership and the army. Perhaps those who had hoped to emerge in the driver's seat, and were diverted by the Gowon takeover of the counter-coup, were trying to discredit him in order to complete their initial design. Aminu wrote on October 2, 1966, "Gowon says there is a plan to discredit him," and even considered the possibility of the U.S. Central Intelligence Agency (C.I.A.) involvement. Violent upheavals like that, followed by an offer to help out he reasoned, could be a big power's attempt to increase its influence—and on the face of things his suspicions actually seemed to be borne out when the United States did so offer on October 5. What appears to be common knowledge is that when the civil war did break out the following year, there was a strong difference of opinion between the U.S. ambassador and the C.I.A. The latter evidently felt that the United States interests would best be served by taking the part of the Biafrans,* while the State Department supported the forces for a strong One Nigeria. *The term "Biafran" was non-existent until the attempted secession of the Eastern Region in 1967.

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O n October 3, the Lagos A d H o c C o n f e r e n c e was a d j o u r n e d to consider the revised and reworked proposals a n d to reconvene on October 24. T h a t meeting never took place, for the September 30 riots h a d precipitated large scale migrations a n d mass flight of Ibos back to their regions of origin. T h e t e n u o u s dialogue h a d b r o k e n down. By the time the disturbances finally simmered down, all Ibos had fled the North, and H a u s a s the East. All constitutional progress had been nullified, and the only remaining contact between G o w o n and the Eastern leader, Lieutenant Colonel O d u m e g w u O j u k w u , was by telephone. T h e attempt to reestablish military government contact between Lagos and Enugu continued until J a n u a r y when in order to get together, the military leaders had to leave the country and go to Aburi in G h a n a . While these attempts to keep the East within the Federation were going on, the North was having its own problems. T h e Ibos residing in the North had disappeared almost overnight. M a n y hundreds or possibly thousands h a d been killed, but all of a million Easterners left their homes for the region of their forefathers. A gigantic gap was left in northern society that created a problem quite independent of the antagonisms that h a d provoked the disturbances. T h e Ibos, in their diaspora had served as technicians, clerks, and civil servants and generally filled a middle rung of the economy that now had to be replaced. T h e disruption of the railroads h a d limited the supply of gasoline and thereby curtailed road transport as well. T h e N o r t h ' s m a j o r c r o p — g r o u n d n u t s and the oil derived therefrom, had to be moved southward to the sea, but some three-fourths of the trained personnel had left. Six weeks after the mass flight, services were restored to only.about 4 0 per cent of the pre-coup levels. Postal and telecommunications services also suffered, as did other areas of the economy. N o r t h e r n e r s could replace the traders without too much difficulty, but the trains had to run, the mails h a d to be delivered, a n d so on. T h e government set u p a national relief p r o g r a m to allocate f u n d s to restore normal operations in all regions, but with the lack of any agreement in Lagos, the uneasiness and distrust continued. In very short order, the polarization was complete, and the e c o n o m y of the N o r t h e r n Region almost at a standstill.

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Aminu continued to be totally involved with the conferences and discussions and the advisory role in which he had been placed, completely neglecting his private business. In the course of these discussions however, the educational lag of the northern people was consistently pointed to as a major source of their on-going difficulties. Immediately after the May disturbances and the exodus of Ibos, the need for a crash replacement-training program became evident. Aminu's multi-faceted activity spilled over into the educational field in the form of an initiative in organizing what eventually came to be known as the Kano Community Commercial School (KCCS). He realized that setting up a full-fledged secondary school for training office and clerical personnel would involve peripheral administrative difficulties that could conceivably be avoided by a purely commercial school of secondary grade. Men like Maitama Sule, Sani Gezawa, Aminu Dantata, Inuwa Wada, and Tanko Yakasai were very receptive to the idea. Even the emir agreed to cooperate, and Hassan, the Military Governor, agreed to cut what red tape he could to hasten the project. Maitama Sule offered the use of his house, which, with minor alterations, served as the school's first home. Within two weeks, two classes were organized and seventy students enrolled, including ten girls and many ethnic groupings of northern extraction. Thus the first secondary school of any size supported by private subscription was officially opened by the emir at an initiating ceremony. His contribution of 250 pounds was followed by other contributions, totaling approximately 4,000 pounds. Today, the student body has over 400 boys and girls enrolled, a building site has been secured, and a permanent building constructed. The project is an accepted part of the Kano educational scene, with Commissioner Aminu Kano serving as chairman of the board. The universally recognized need for local government reforms in the North led at this point to a revival of the 1956 Hudson Commission* recommendations for some division of administration and powers between the provinces and the local authorities. Aminu participated actively with the 1956 commission but this effort to *Set up by the British in an attempt to analyze the possibilities of allocating some of the powers of the Native Authorities to other administrative units (provinces).

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revive its original proposals was soon abandoned in the maelstrom of regional political tugs and strains, to reemerge later in local reforms of a different stripe. A man of less inner strength and organizational capacity might have crumbled if he tried to divide himself into as many pieces as Aminu did during these autumn months of 1966. His resilience and stamina were even more impressive when one realized that he had been deeply depressed and ready to go into enforced retirement only a few short months previously. His rapid and relatively complete bounce-back clearly displayed his lifelong ability to continue to function effectively under the most adverse or the most favorable circumstances. The interregional offers, counter-offers and threats that marked the ensuing months of negotiation culminated in the January 1967 meeting of Ojukwu and Gowon in Aburi, in Ghana. Obviously if it was necessary to meet outside the country for both parties to feel secure, the country's deep-seated problems had not yet been resolved. This despite the federal government's five-point program, committees of conciliation, and repeated invitations to the Eastern leaders to meet with the Military Governors, secretaries, and advisers. Even the minimal agreements arrived at in Aburi were disputed immediately upon the participants' return to Nigeria. Although by this time Gowon and the forces he represented had made it clear that they were ready to break the regions down into smaller states and to consider a flexible distribution of powers between the states and the federal government, Ojukwu and others who spoke for the Eastern region were not drawn any closer. Relations with the East continued to get worse until they broke down completely in May 1967. While this was happening, Aminu, together with Joseph Tarka, M a k a m a n Bida, and Umaru Dikko, was asked to circulate widely throughout the North, to explain the shift in attitudes of the northern leaders of thought regarding state and power at the center, to the emirs, councilmen, and Local Authority people as well as the talakawa and tradesmen. Each member of this quartet was asked to put his persuasive talents to the test in his own area of influence. They went not as representatives of parties but because each had influence with, and commanded the respect of, an important segment of northern thought: M a k a m a n Bida would appeal to the NPC-based

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conservative establishment; Joseph Tarka, to the large minority groups; Umaru Dikko, to the students and younger elements; and Aminu Kano, to the insurgents, the talakawa, the intellectuals, and the civil servants. They circulated throughout the provinces, addressing themselves to select audiences of the Local Authorities, from the emirs on down, and then spoke at mass meetings assembled for the purpose. Their job was to convince those resident in the hinterlands that their position at the Ad Hoc Conference was in the interest of a united national front and a firm unity of purpose. When they began their tour, they were greeted with reservations, but the audiences quickly became receptive and friendly; for everyone was tired of the internecine struggles and looking for areas of agreement. The "forgive and forget" theme was Makaman Bida's domain, particularly in former NPC strongholds. Aminu had to convince the people that they must avert impending economic ruin by filling the shoes of the refugees. Tarka pointed out that the need for smaller states was universal rather than solely the province of the Middle Belt and minority peoples. Umaru Dikko assured the youth that the new policy was to make room for all to participate and that the stagnation of the bureaucracy was on its way out. And they all four participated in the general discussions of the issues. They were surprisingly successful in convincing their audiences that the secession of the North, seriously considered by the military as well as the traditional leaders, could bring only disaster; that the about-face by the military, politicians, and civil servants would produce the rapid political change and movement essential for national progress. Soon great crowds greeted them wherever they went. Of all people, Aminu, despite his personal feuds with the Sultan of Sokoto in the 1950's, was a guest in the palace when he was in the Sokoto area. Umaru Dikko personally testified to Aminu's effectiveness on the public platform, describing him as an "eloquent Hausa speaker, . . . one who knows how to appeal to the feelings of the masses in simple, persuasive language—or by making them laugh." 6 Aminu's Citroen had a good going-over and was banged up a bit, but most people agreed that the officially sponsored tour was highly effective. In the midst of Aminu's frenetic political activity came two significant events of a personal nature—and quite coincidentally on

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the same day. The entry in his diary for February 19, 1967, reads, "Isa Wali dies. Buried in Kano at midnight. Married to Zahra, Shatu pacified." Such simple notations in a way summed up a lifelong pattern, in which Aminu consistently relegated the joys as well as the tragedies of his personal life to a small corner of his psyche. He would conscientiously observe the amenities and responsibilities of maintaining a home, a family, and personal relationships, but no more. Isa Wali had had great meaning in Aminu's life. Their relationship combined kinship (their families were related both by blood and by marriage); insurgency (Isa, in his way, had defied the archaic traditional limitations of the past, just as had A m i n u ) ; friendship; and a parallel political viewpoint. They had sought out each other's company throughout their adult lives, beginning with Aminu's days in Bauchi, when he bedded down with Isa and Sule Katagum every time he passed through Kaduna. and on up to his hasty visit to Accra but one year before Isa's premature death. He had wanted to discuss the first coup and to reassure his close friend and relative, who was serving there at the time, as Nigeria's Ambassador to Ghana. Yet the notation read simply, "Isa Wali dies. . . . Married to Zahra. . . ." Later he would fulfill his obligations by standing in as "waliyi" for Isa's widow, Zainab, when the time came for her to remarry. Together with the Wali family, he would help oversee the disposition of his friend's assets and liabilities, and the schooling of his children. But the following day's entry in his diary read, "Leave for Kaduna with Maitama Sule for call by H. E . " It was politics as usual once again. "Married to Zahra" had its own significance. Aminu was distantly related to Zahra and had been sponsoring her education for several years. But when Gogo Sadiya, Zahra's grandmother, had come to Aminu to tell him that plans were afoot to marry her off, and that unless Aminu did something about it, her education would be at an end, he stepped in and on February 19, married her himself. This enabled her to continue going to school for another two years, after which she joined his household. Aminu's explanation of his venture into the polygamy practiced by his ancestors was simple. Though the custom had an economic purpose in rural areas by supplying labor for the fields, he was opposed to it when practiced by rich men as a means of acquiring property and ostentatiously displaying their wealth. This

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was degrading and oppressive to the women, and especially so when purdah was practiced. He would have none of this. He would marry more than one wife only if it meant that their living standards and educational level would be raised, and that they could learn to be independent and socially productive, almost in the same manner as a Westerner might calculate the number of children to have in his family. His marriage to Zahra, he felt, was consistent with his own emphasis on modernization and education. Yet one wonders how much of this was a rationalization and perhaps a desire to have his own "issue," (a possibility suggested by one of his close friends). Though there were five children in his household, they were all "given" to his household by other parents. When Zahra gave birth to her first child, a baby girl, in 1970, it did seem to give credence to this latter interpretation. However, as events turned out, Zahra never returned to his household after the birth. They were divorced and another wife was added in her stead. Islamic custom has it that if a man has more than one wife, he must treat them all as equals. Aminu relates a humorous anecdote about an acquaintance of his whose third wife was educated and wanted a daily newspaper delivered to her door. Though the two senior wives were illiterate, they insisted upon equal treatment, so three separate copies of the newspaper had to be delivered. This seemed a silly solution to all concerned, until a modus vivendi was worked out whereby little envelopes containing the monetary equivalent of a daily paper were delivered to the two elder wives instead. This egalitarian custom presented difficulties in Aminu's household as well. Since Shatu had relished her monogamous state, she did not exactly welcome her co-wife. She felt that her status was threatened and blamed close associates of Aminu for influencing him. But Aminu pointed out to her that education meant learning to get along with people. When he and associates had differences, he said, he continued to eat and drink with them and eventually won them over. It was part of her education to learn to like all women. Aminu made it crystal clear to his current wives as well as their predecessors, that his public service would always take precedence over his private life, and that this was one of his conditions of marriage. They accepted the arrangement, with its by-products of trips abroad and relative freedom of action. If they found it unac-

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ceptable, they were free to leave, said Aminu. "Our nation is bigger than sex and family, and if they [the wives] are not satisfied with that, they must go elsewhere. . . . Of course, any grievances can be discussed. . . . If my absences are frequent and long, it has to do with my public affairs—Tradition has it that if a wife sees her husband talking with another woman, she would leave the house. However, Shatu has learned that I can do this and it means nothing." He continued with his reflections, "I do get lonesome at times, but a lot of my energy is absorbed by my activity. I even get along without eating many times—maybe that's why I developed an u l c e r . . ." 7 One other major personal event of great moment to Aminu, crowded into these busy few months of 1967. On May 14, two weeks before secession was finalized in the East, Aminu's father died at the age of ninety-five. Yusufu had never really participated in his son's life, politically or otherwise, and for the last few years of his life he had done little more than sit quietly in a dark room at the entrance of his compound, almost as if he were waiting for the final moment. Aminu would brief him on his activities from time to time, and receive his blessings. For the last two decades, events had left Yusufu completely behind, but his rigid honesty and stubborn resistance to corrupt ways had always been a source of strength for Aminu. His legacy was all of five pounds, and his last request was that a prayer ground be maintained on his doorstep. In the interim, the tensions between the regions in the country were growing. After the historic meeting at Aburi in January, the leaders of thought meetings were somewhat meaningless, for all negotiations were conducted by the military, and they were getting nowhere. In the East, "the Ibos would consent to discuss no constitutional solution that did not leave them with full control over their own security and economy." 8 By March, the Eastern Region took a giant step toward secession by decreeing that all revenue collected in the region on behalf of the federal government would be paid into the Eastern treasury. By May, federal authorities recognized that secession had been set in motion and would continue unless stopped by force. On May 25, when the federal government still had not acted on breaking the country into states, Tarka and Aminu and a few others asked to be relieved of their membership

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on the consultative committee. Two days later Hassan, representing vested regional interests opposed to the new states, asked for further delay, but Gowon rejected his request by telephone, saying that he would speak out on the states issue that very day—and he did. In a history-making proclamation, Gowon announced on May 27 that henceforth Nigeria would consist of twelve separate states— long a dream of the minorities of both North and South. There was dancing in the streets, for the minority groups felt unchained. It was like a second liberation for all the masses. At the same time, however, Gowon declared a state of emergency throughout Nigeria. Three days later, Ojukwu made his Unilateral Declaration of Independence, announcing that the Eastern Region had ceased to exist. In its stead was now the Republic of Biafra. The following day, federal troops crossed the border, a sea blockade was set up, and the civil war for the survival of Nigeria was on. A country's grueling struggle to build a national existence has never made good copy for journalists, but the civil war with two and a half years of death, starvation, and destruction, created reams and reams of it. Nigeria splashed across the front and back pages of the newspapers and magazines of the world, with an explosive impact. Yet in retrospect, several years after the collapse of the rebellion, one wonders what people learned from this quantity of reading material. Does the world's citizenry know a bit more about the most populous of African nations—its people, its problems, its history? Within a year after the collapse of Ibo resistance, almost all but an infinitesimal group of the most interested observers are no closer to understanding the causes of the war than they were prior to this typographical eruption in black and white. Within Nigeria, each side pleaded with the other to stop the bloodbath by granting them their goals—one to secede, the other to maintain the integrity of their nation. But outside Nigeria, the selfdesignated "Biafrans," through well-designed public relations, were able to arouse the sympathy of a multitude of would-be world humanitarians. Repetition of the emotionally charged phrases "genocide," "starving children," and "self-determination" had its effect. The world's mercy machine started rolling and, because of an inadequate understanding of the circumstances, was utilized to pro-

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long the struggle. When it ended, Nigeria was left in much the same state as it would have been had the war not occurred. But to say that the war, with its vast devastation and loss of an appalling number of lives, was totally unnecessary would be an oversimplification. More than that, it would ignore completely the role these catastrophic events played in Nigeria's revolutionary struggle to achieve a true national integrity and independence. The United States had its Civil War, Italy its Irridentist struggles, and other examples could be drawn from the world's history. Could these nations have done without their national revolutions? Smaller feudal groupings with divided loyalties had to be merged into a larger whole to forge a modern state. The Ibos of the East had not been an oppressed people fighting for their freedom, despite the ethnic rivalries, riots, and killings which preceded the war. (Nor are they now, despite the many severe problems of reconstruction which follow civil strife on so large a scale.) If anything, they had a favored position in education, jobs, and status. While the struggle was in progress, it wasn't so obvious that whatever the claims or the justification of either side, the solution had to be found within a context of One Nigeria. The political struggles in Nigeria had never produced a true ideological polarization, and the war did not change that. Only in the Northern Region had there been a continuing struggle involving ideologies—with the liberal party, NEPU, consistently challenging its conservative rival, the NPC—and even that changed after the first military coup. Aminu had always tried to choose the side that would best serve his long-range goal of democracy for the masses. At first, he was in radical opposition to traditional rule; then he assumed a quiet but vigorous organizing role in unifying the North; now he stood in a position of leadership at the center, staunchly supporting the military establishment. Gowon, unlike Ironsi, had made it clear f r o m the start that he would call civilians of all political hues, from all regions of the land, into public service to help run the government. When the twelve-state format was announced, a military governor and a civilian representative from each state were appointed. The twelve civilian representatives, together with the chiefs of the military services and a few additional technicians co-opted for

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The Twelve States of Nigeria

Reprinted by permission from Foreign Affairs. Copyright 1972 by Council on Foreign Relations, Inc.

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specific purposes, were chosen to comprise a Federal Executive Council in Lagos—the equivalent of a ministerial council or cabinet, with a portfolio for each of the civilians. This cabinet would serve as the administrative arm of the government, with the Supreme Military Council sitting above them. Only three or four days after the proclamation of the new states, Aminu was notified that he was to be Kano State's representative. There had been no prior consultation, nor had Aminu any idea which portfolio was to be his. Major General Gowon (he achieved his new rank at the same time) said that, to avoid any leaks of information, "he slept with the list in his pocket.'' Only one or two appointees who lived in Lagos were consulted; the others, like Aminu, did not know which ministry was to be theirs until shortly before they were sworn in on June 12, 1967. Gowon evidently had followed the politics of his country closely from his military perch and knew whom he wanted to include in his government. With a few understandable exceptions, his civilian appointees were all personae non grata in the First Republic. (The leaders of the N P C in the North and the N C N C and N N D P in the South were either avoiding the limelight completely or quietly involved on a local level.) At first, the contacts between Aminu and Gowon were frequent, but as Aminu learned the ins and outs of his office, Commissioner of Communications, they met only to confer on pressing subjects. Back home in Kano, the realignment of forces which had been taking place locally was formalized by Aminu's appointment. A group of Kano's leading citizens raised funds for a party in the cinema house in his honor. Several hundred invited guests showed up, including most of his former arch-opponents. The Sarkin Dawaki and Madaki, close to the pinnacle of traditional authority, and others from all sectors of Kano society, spoke in his behalf. A second party was organized, at which Ibrahim Musa Gashash, former Minister of Lands and Survey and regional president of the NPC, spoke freely—to the chagrin of his former followers and to the great pleasure of his former N E P U opponents. He said, in effect, "In the past, Aminu, you and I quietly disagreed and though we were victorious in the elections, we molested and harried you and your cohorts. Now that you are in the saddle, via the military, please don't do unto us as we did unto you!"

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With most of the Kano leadership lining up behind Aminu, it was obvious that he would be very much in the picture when the Military Governor of Kano State, Audu Bako, appointed his state commissioners. Yet there was grumbling among his sympathizers for only one of his avowed disciples, Tanko Yakasai, was among those appointed. Aminu himself didn't seem put out by this. He subsequently explained the disparity in the proportion of N E P U people at the top of Kano State's government by pointing out that in addition to Tanko Yakasai, two or three others had been secretly associated with, or openly known as, N E P U sympathizers. There were also some former NPC members who were progressives; and in any case, we must ask who was available in Kano? This new-found unity with a man who had earlier seemed a perpetually faultfinding traducer made it evident to the traditionalists that further changes would have to be made. Aminu's lifelong attempt to introduce local reforms in the North as rapidly as possible, had been consistently rejected by his opponents as explosive. Perhaps his ultimate goals were laudable, they said, but the speed and totality which he had demanded were too radical for them. The point at which these opponents lost control of the center might be considered the successful revolutionary change of class power in the N o r t h — f r o m feudal to bourgeois. Once the traditional leaders no longer dominated the federation or region, the speed of reform could be accelerated many fold. Thus when the intimidation and restraint imposed on the talakawa by the emirate structure was removed, they were quite ready to move at as rapid a pace as the powers-that-be chose to grant them. And the powers-that-were were ready to roll ahead. True, some reforms had crept in gradually over the preceding years, but the essential focus of power had remained in the hands of the emir and his local authority. The elimination of the Emir's Court represented a cut-back of traditional power, but the emir was still handpicking the alkalis and thereby controlling the legal system of the North. He continued to appoint the councilors, district heads, and others, in this way controlling legislative and administrative powers and of course retaining exclusive executive control. Aminu's role as a catalyst for this change was enhanced from his new perch as Kano State's representative to the Lagos govern-

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ment. Though he was well occupied with other matters of state, he followed the changes closely and looked upon each new local reform with great satisfaction. Those who broadened the political base and extended equal opportunity in each of the northern states—including the military and civil servants and at times even the reluctant local authorities—continue to regard Aminu as sort of patron saint of their cause. 9 This, to such an extent that his on-going concern with his home state has come in for criticism from some of his friends and allies when discussing his status as a national figure. "He is too much concerned with Kano affairs," was repeated by several political associates in one form or another, (such as Fred McEwen, Adisa, and Sule Katagum), though admittedly this criticism was levelled at him principally by allies in Southern Nigeria; native northerners generally see these reforms as Aminu does; as the jumping-ofT point for all subsequent forward movement, and a turning point in their national revolution. To Aminu, the conversion from family-compact rule to a concept of public service, of earning the right to serve the people, represented class change. Even though the educated aristocrats might become the inheritors of the mantle of power in the new meritocracy, they could no longer rest on their birthright. They had to reorient their class relationship from the aristocracy to the bourgeoisie. The movement toward reform of the traditional local government in each northern emirate had its hesitant beginnings as far back as the colonial period, for it had been in the interest of the British to introduce slow, controlled modernization. The policy had an inherent contradiction, however, since it was also in their interest to continue the existing hierarchical structure for efficiency of administration and control. When the Attah (Emir) of Okene insisted on a Western-style education for his children, the British Resident objected because he feared its liberating effect. But when the then Emir of Kano, Abdullahi Bayero, tried to break the traditional setup by introducing non-royal members into the Emir's Council (coincidentally eliminating any restraints put upon him by the power of the aristocratic families), he had the tacit support of the colonial administration. There were no elected councilors in Kano in 1959. After independence—by 1963, when Sanusi was deposed—there

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were some but only a minority (5 to 18). And by the end of 1965, all Local Authority councils had some elected members, and a few even had an elected majority. Even the Hudson Commission, introduced by the British in 1956, recognized the need for modernizing the local political structure. It suggested a "provincial authority" with some power to spend money independent of the emir—in this way at least partially bypassing the Native Authority. Aminu was called upon to testify before the commission, but so were the emirs and their coterie of noblemen and kingmakers. The British were more impressed by the obvious opposition of the emirs than by the support of people like Aminu. So the recommendations of their own appointed commission members were never implemented. Reform of the judicial system, running parallel to that of administration, had been one of Aminu's early concerns—dating back to his father's clash with the emir over his individualized interpretation of the law, and the subsequent denial of Yusufu's appointment as Chief Alkali. From the NEPU period of the 1950's and thereafter, Aminu's crusaders were in constant conflict with the law. Thousands of his supporters were arrested and charged with "verbal abuse of the emir." Even after regional authority was imposed upon the emir's Native Authority, the difference was hardly noticeable. The charges against Aminu and his supporters were changed to "verbal abuse of the Sardauna." The core of their difficulties was the denial of any real due process. The alkalis were all appointed by, and beholden to, the emirs, and were subject to little or no restraint by either the British or their successors, the regional authorities. Legal counsel was denied, and open hearings or trial by jury were unheard of. To compound this situation, any appeal from the alkali's verdict had to be to the final native court of appeal, the Emir's Court, with the emir as final arbiter. The inconclusive nature of the reforms introduced in 19591962 was summed up by Dr. John Paden when he said, "The consequences of such reform affected matters of legal structure, without entailing major substantive changes . . . [or] affecting the pattern of succession to judgeship." 10 Though Aminu advised Ado Bayero, upon his installation as emir of Kano, that he should expand

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his council to bring in new men and retire the old, to divide the emirate into smaller units, and eliminate the Emir's Court, little was done to bring about these changes. Not until Gowon's military regime did the Emir's Courts cease to exist, when the entire legal system in the North was incorporated into the state structure. In Kano, they were converted into Area Courts, with alkalis appointed by a judicial commission, consisting of civil servants and others who in turn were appointed by the Governor. A number of alkalis were " . . . retired, including Kano's Chief Alkali, in an attempt to upgrade standards." 1 1 The courtroom was opened up and counsel was permitted the defendant, who incidentally was no longer required to prostrate himself before the judge. Along with this drastic judicial change came a transfer of prison and police authority to the federal government, thus stripping the emir of any real enforcement powers. Unqualified personnel already within the apparatus would not be removed, but they would eventually be eliminated by attrition. When Audu Bako, Military Governor of Kano State, introduced local government reform on November 11, 1968, he addressed himself to the State Executive Council and to the emirs, councilors, and members of the press, telling them that henceforth the emir's power would be decisively curtailed. Thereafter such power had to be exercised through artifice and subtle influence (not an insignificant o n e ) , no longer in overt form. The emir's complete control, through his executive function, his power of appointment and removal of the judiciary (alkalis), the legislators (councilors), his unchecked power to tax, and his total control of the police, had dwindled considerably. His own appointment had to be approved by the Military Governor; and his council, thereafter to be referred to as the "Emirate Council," would ultimately consist of himself as chairman, the traditional kingmakers, the District Officer, and other nominated members, plus elected members whose number would total to at least two-thirds of the council. On January 1, 1969, similar councils would start functioning in subdivisions of Kano State known as Administrative Areas, all with decision-making powers. When the Emir's Council was transformed to the Emirate Council, the post of secretary became vacant. The former secretary,

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one of three applicants, was turned down by the council, which chose another, who they thought was more qualified. The Sarkin Dawaki, chairman of the kingmakers and once a powerful lord, testified indirectly to the effect of these changes when in one instance, he wrote to Aminu appealing for support and cooperation in insuring him the chairmanship of a particular committee, and another occasion when he chaired a public meeting to protest British sale of arms to South Africa. Though he might still administer his city district with an autocratic old world flourish, and perhaps ignore some of the new regulations in the process, it did not negate the fact that aristocratic old-style administrative arbitrariness would eventually be replaced by more modern methods, subject to constant scrutiny by the people's representatives in the first place and by the people themselves in the second place. In the long run, the emir and his courtiers could find a place in the new Nigeria only if they learned to conform and perform. So far as Northern Nigeria was concerned, Aminu's victory was almost complete. Implementation of administrative fiat was still ahead, but the break had been made. Paradoxically, an elected government had done nothing; it was a military government that had effected Aminu's lifelong dream. The power would now be in the hands of the people—when the military stepped aside, that is. But Aminu, now based in Lagos, found he had to transcend regional and local affairs that had occupied his time, effort and loyalties, over much of his political lifetime. He was involved with the deadly serious business of helping to "solve" a civil war. He and most of his fellow members of the Federal Executive Council never interpreted victory over the Biafrans to mean their total defeat. When an internecine struggle such as this would come to a conclusion, the victory could never be complete. Though a nation might be born in the process, there was always the afterbirth to deal with, before the infant could be sure of survival. "Out of our travails, out of a crisis of collective synthesis, a nation has been born." 1 2 Neither vengeance nor vindication had ever motivated Aminu, even remotely. His years as a member of Parliament and as a representative to the United Nations had given him some preparation

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for a national role. But with those special tasks, there had always been an element of temporary escape from the battlefront, even though his efforts were useful and productive. Now the front had shifted to Lagos and the national scene, requiring that he think and act in those terms. Previously, Aminu's relationships with southerners had been principally through his ties with the NCNC, as one of its vice-presidents. His past political bedfellows in the West remained close, but his role as a hero in the East, where the NCNC had its strongest base, had been sorely interrupted. Most of the Ibo leaders of the NCNC, from the Eastern Regional ministers on down, had been thrust aside by their fellow Ibos in the Ironsi government, only to be brought back from prison and from hiding by Lieutenant Colonel Ojukwu, leader of the rebellion. The fact that they were spared—though every bit as culpable and discredited as the northern political leaders put to death in the first coup—was a great source of friction between the regions. In the sharp polarization that took place between January 1966 and May 1967, prior to the secession and civil war, Aminu's ties with the rank-and-file Ibos in the North and the East were, to all appearances, completely shattered. Because the Ibos in the North had thought of him and the party he led as allies, they were stunned by his and NEPU'S inability to stem the polarization. Though it is reported that the refugees fled the North with his name on their lips, the best Aminu had been able to offer them was advice to leave quickly while going was still possible, and to shelter them en route wherever feasible. Their disappointment with him was great. But as the realities of the civil war settled upon Nigeria, those Ibos who remained behind in Lagos and the rest of Nigeria (they numbered in the tens of thousands) could not forget their ties to him. Many an Ibo who had suffered some indignity, great or small, came to him for help. The official conciliatory attitude of the government permitted Aminu some leeway, so that he could move quietly behind the scenes to give what assistance was possible. One Kano woman was permitted to continue her job as caretaker at the Bayero College until she was reunited with her Ibo husband when he came out of the bush. Another, an Asaba Ibo, was released from jail through Aminu's intervention. A few nights afterward, Aminu was startled

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when a truck full of the Ibo's fellow villagers, representing ninety Asaba families, stopped to thank him for the release of their "brother" and for the risks he took. They left saying, "Men like you leave us with high hopes for the future of Nigeria." These appeals came in such numbers at one point that Aminu was concerned lest he be suspect among the less thoughtful and more impulsive soldiers, but he continued discreetly and quietly. Stories like this are myriad. An Ibo woman, a former secretary at Dodan Barracks, after her release from custody, came to Aminu with private pleas to him from several Ibos remaining in detention. Again, when Aminu ran into two Ibo leaders in London, one of them embraced him, saying, "My leader! Why can't we stop this war nonsense?" And when he represented Nigeria during the attempts to find a peace formula at Kampala, he was greeted warmly by the Biafrans on the other side of the negotiation table—including Christopher Mojekwu (who had accompanied him to the Boy Scout Jamboree in his youth), and Chief Justice Sir Louis Mbanefo. (On the third day of the conference, however, when negotiations were reaching an impasse, their smiles changed to grimaces.) These contacts with individual Ibos during the civil war years represented a carry over from the past. The tales of his mid-civil war efforts on their behalf spread rapidly by word of mouth, but they still represented primarily that select group in contact with him personally. Large numbers of Ibos who fled to the East before communications were sealed off undoubtedly retained some bitterness about Aminu's inability to do anything to stem the killings in the North. However, in the postwar reintegration process, Aminu's skill in human relations and his openhandedness during the rebellion have not gone unnoticed. Ibo civil servants and others of influence with the masses continue to look hopefully to Aminu to play a special role in the reintegration process. Other than military action to end the rebellion, perhaps the Gowon government's most significant move was the creation of the twelve states and the civilian Federal Executive Council. This move, if it did not completely sweep away the thorniest obstacles to national unity, at least made it possible for them to move toward solutions in the foreseeable future. The gross inequality in the size and power of the regions was eliminated. Potential sources of dissension were dis-

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posed of by incorporating civilians from almost all known political beliefs into the government. The minorities that historically had been pushing for a degree of independence now had it, together with the reassuring protection of a national cover. But the Ibo, to be properly integrated into a twelve state structure would have had to give up his formerly favored position in the middle and upper rungs of trained people in trade, industry, and government. Moreover, he would have had to sacrifice his hegemony over the minority groups within the Eastern Region, including the control of the oil-rich areas. This he would not accept, if instead, there was a possibility that he and his fellow Ibos could establish an independent state with its promise of additional top echelon jobs and status. So the Ibos fought on. For the two and a half years of civil war, Aminu identified himself completely with the Federal Military Government. The senseless loss of life, with its terrible deprivation for the inhabitants of the East, seemed productive only of chaos and delayed national development. The Federal Government at first tried to convince the Ibos to renounce secession. When persuasion failed, they tried land and sea blockades. This tactic proved equally unsuccessful when the newly organized Biafran army overran the Mid-West Region, with the aid of Mid-Western Ibo defectors from the federal cause. The military government then realized that what they were trying to treat as a police action would have to be escalated to total war, with full mobilization. And for the conduct of the war, the cooperation of experienced and skilled civilians was necessary. Although respected by the top military echelons, Aminu's great strength was with the people, and not particularly with the soldiery, but when the first decentralized purchases of arms proved cumbersome, and disorganized, Aminu found himself floating through Europe as chairman of the procurement committee engaged in arms purchases. In general, however, Aminu's value to the government derived less from that of an administrator than from his international experience, his popularity with administrative personnel on all levels, and his keen understanding of mass response to governmental internal policy. Although distressed by the sinking international image of Federal Nigeria when threatened by the one-sided reaction of the

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world's humanitarian organizations and public media, he tended to shrug if off as someone else's department, with little he could do about it. If a division ever could have been made between the doves and hawks, it would have found him in the camp of the "step softly" group. Although he felt the war had to be prosecuted to the fullest, he tried to distinguish between the rebels actively engaged in military resistance and the large passive mass of Ibos who were not carrying guns. He felt the war was being fought against secession, not the Ibos, and kept looking ahead to the postwar period, when it would again become necessary to welcome this large slice of Nigeria back into the fold of national integration and unity. In light of this, starvation as a weapon of war never appealed to him, for many innocent, uncommitted Easterners, Ibo or otherwise, would cruelly suffer. Aminu felt that patriotic organizations should and could play an important role in mobilizing public thought not only around winning the war, but also about winning the peace. He tried to convince the Military Government that support of such organizations as the Afro-Asian Solidarity Conference in Nigeria was essential to project Nigeria's cause externally and to offset the attempts of the Biafrans to establish themselves as an independent force in these and other international congresses. The Military Government had banned all organized political activity, but application of such a decree could be flexible and Aminu from inside the government continued to push for liberal interpretations. Political activity was detrimental only if it meant jockeying for partisan advantage, not if it aimed toward harmony between people, or improving the war effort, or the country's international prestige and solidarity. If the government itself could not initiate this type of activity, organizations such as the Afro-Asian Solidarity Conference could be a logical funnel. He succeeded in convincing government leaders, at least to the extent that they tolerated the Conference activities and permitted its delegates to attend international conferences around the globe. However, not all persons within this particular organization shared Aminu's views of its function—that of a unifying force for continuing radical activity toward federal victory and ultimate democratization of the country. Factional struggle carried over

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from pre-military days. Otegbeye led one group, Tanko Yakasai the other, with the degree of loyalty to the international socialist movement as the issue in dispute. Despite Aminu's attempts to mediate from his position above the ideological dispute, and his insistence that loyalty to the concept of One Nigeria was primary, Otegbeye's group withdrew at one point. Both factions remained on good terms with Aminu, frequently asking him to speak at symposia and meetings which each organized. In June 1969, at an international conference in East Berlin, the Nigerian delegation was led by Yerima Bella, a long-time lieutenant and ally of Aminu, dating back to the N E P U days and at the time, the Commissioner of Community Development in the NorthEast State government. He and his fellow delegates created quite a stir by taking positions independent of the Eastern European bloc. Other delegations quickly learned that Nigeria's militant independence did not in any way permit its war-time arms purchases and its accompanying friendship with the Soviet Union to be interpreted as subservience. The Nigerians expected to criticize and be criticized on issues, not loyalties. At this same conference, a group of Eastern Nigerians who had requested recognition as an independent Biafran national delegation was rejected at the insistence of Yerima Balla and the official Nigerian delegation. Aminu's role as referee between the two groups was once again invoked when he found that Otegbeye had been jailed upon his return to Nigeria. He had left the country unofficially, without the necessary travel documents, represented himself at the conference unofficially, and had returned unofficially, but found himself imprisoned officially. By his conduct, he most certainly had broken the existing laws of the land, but Aminu in arguing for his release, indicated that it was not in any way against the greater interests of the nation to release him. He felt strongly that a group such as this, allowing everyone to work together should be permitted, and could serve as an umbrella for radical activity that accepted a strong, independent One Nigeria as a basic premise, while coincidentally attempting to make this One Nigeria a better place to live in. Great Britain's early rejection of Nigeria's request for military assistance and the immediate assumption by the Soviet Union of a role of military supplier, made more grist for Aminu's anti-imperial-

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ist mill. He felt that waging a war for national integrity, although an essential prerequisite for national progress, was not in itself an anti-imperialist move. Nor did he feel that a military victory won with or without Soviet arms would prevent close postwar ties to the West. Neither was the pro-Western foreign policy of Nigeria's first republic helpful. Thus, Aminu's unconventional interpretation of anti-imperialism rejected big power domination and welcomed Nigeria's newly acquired friendship with the Soviet Union without dropping its former Western allies, and tended to move the country closer to a true policy of nonalignment. Evidently the world powers recognized new possibilities too, for the seemingly absurd and contradictory alignments which developed during the war could never be explained in a classical division of imperialist vs anti-imperialist. England, the Soviet Union, the overwhelming majority of African states and developing nations all supported the federal cause, with the United States attempting a tenuous fence-straddling. And the unlikely combination of the People's Republic of China, Union of South Africa, France, Portugal, and four Black African countries lent succor to the Biafran cause in one form or another. Simply, each country aligned itself according to what it interpreted as its own national interest and how it believed the forces would line up at the termination of the struggle. The discovery of great oil reserves in Nigeria during this time just accelerated the process. The implications of all this led Aminu to conclude that he couldn't simply melt his efforts into the general goal of winning the war. He had to continue to exert such influence as he could toward making the defeat of a heart-rending attempt at secession a valid victory for his people. Thus he continued to encourage active discussions on university campuses, at meetings of consultative committees, and to support any action that would broaden public participation. Aminu's participation in the several attempts at peace negotiations was more or less routine. Personal contacts across the negotiating table were quite meaningless in the long run. The federal government seemed flexible enough and ready to negotiate almost any issue save that of One Nigeria, but the Biafrans would not yield an inch on this basic point, interpreting the Gowon government's insistence on it as a demand for full surrender. The concessions on re-

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lief arrangements were essentially made unilaterally by the federal government, which held the trump cards in this respect. They proposed many plans for supplying the Biafran civilians with food and medicines, but the Ojukuwu forces rejected any method that would not permit international arms deliveries to be filtered in along with the relief supplies. So regardless of the intensity of the international heat caused by the internal Nigerian friction, not until the fire was put out completely—through military defeat and the ultimate disappearance of "Biafra" as a cause and concept—could national reconstruction and rehabilitation begin. In 1960, when Independence came, Nigeria was an emerging nation. In 1970, when peace came, Nigeria was an emerged nation —strong, centralized, with a popular and democratically oriented military government; industrially sound and potentially the most powerful nation on the African continent.

~ 14The Military Winds Down During the period of reconstruction and rehabilitation immediately following Nigeria's civil war, the Supreme Military C o m m a n d e r Yakubu G o w o n m a d e it clear in his quiet way that neither recrimination nor revenge would be tolerated and that reconciliation and reintegration would be the order of the day. " T h o s e people [the Biafrans] . . . were given transport to their h o m e s , food and shelter within t w e n t y - f o u r hours after the war e n d e d . . . . I was proud of the Nigerian Army, even with their limited education and training," he testified, and a d d e d , "Reintegration went better than expected . . . but 1 was really cross with those w h o wouldn't let reconstruction of devastated areas get off the g r o u n d . " 1 As time went by, G o w o n ' s moderation b e c a m e clear to other observers as well. It was evident that he served as a brake preventing a n u m b e r of his colleagues f r o m prosecuting a c a m p a i g n to annihilate the Biafrans after the civil war e n d e d . M a l l a m A m i n u too shared this concern and set out to achieve reconciliation and elimination of alienation. A m o n g the defeated war-weary Ibos there were many w h o looked beyond General G o w o n to M a l l a m A m i n u as one of the more sober voices of the victorious Federal Governm e n t , despite his u n w a v e r i n g identification with this g o v e r n m e n t and its war e f f o r t , and despite his inability to stem the tide of ethnic violence wreaked upon Ibos in northern Nigeria in May and S e p t e m b e r 1966. His previous connections with the East and the NCNC (National Convention of Nigerian Citizens) during the First Republic and his reputation as a firm believer in O n e Nigeria continued to stand h i m in good stead in the post-war period. As C o m m i s s i o n e r of C o m m u n i c a t i o n s he was a m o n g the first to rehire f o r m e r e m p l o y e e s w h o had f o u n d t h e m s e l v e s on the losing end of the civil war. General G o w o n m a d e note of A m i n u ' s contribution in these words: " D u r i n g the war . . . he m a d e sure that Ibo properties were protected. He helped absorb Ibos by rehiring practices in his ministry, and general reconciliation." 2

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A m i n u ' s u s e f u l n e s s to General G o w o n and the Federal Executive Council on which he served was c o m p o u n d e d of his ability to deal with people of all kinds, as well as his recognized ties to the masses, particularly of the North. His influence was important for the realization of the oft-stated goal of national unity and reconciliation that was so high on the Military G o v e r n m e n t ' s list of priorities. G o w o n a c k n o w l e d g e d a kind of give and take relationship when he mused: I u s e d A m i n u K a n o a n d t h e o t h e r c i v i l i a n s a s m i n i s t e r s t o g a i n their j o i n t s u p p o r t a n d to c h a n n e l t h e i r s k i l l e d r e s o u r c e s , r a t h e r t h a n h a v e t h e m f i g h t e a c h other. . . . It w a s r e f r e s h i n g t o see t h e i r c a p a b i l i t i e s , f u n c t i o n i n g in the m u t u a l i n t e r e s t of all o f u s . ¡ A m i n u ] w a s h o n e s t , s i n c e r e . . . felt f o r t h e c o m m o n m a n . . . .

H e a d v i s e d m e o n the

n o r t h a n d K a n o a f f a i r s , as w e l l a s r e l i g i o u s m a t t e r s .

T h e f o r m e r Head of State further stated that: [ A m i n u l w a n t e d c h a n g e b u t r e a s o n a b l e . . . . H e w a s n e v e r out to pull d o w n . . . a n y g o v e r n m e n t . . . . W i s e l y , he k n e w that N i g e r i a wouldn't benefit f r o m that. . . .

I c o u n t e d on his i n t e g r i t y a n d k n e w

that t h e r e w e r e at least the t w o o f us w h o w o u l d r e m a i n a b o v e b o a r d in o u r d e a l i n g s . T h a t w a s an i m p o r t a n t p a r t o f o u r r e l a t i o n s h i p . Incid e n t a l l y , h e w a s a l w a y s u n a f r a i d to s p e a k t h e truth t o t h e m i l i t a r y g o v ernment or to m e . '

Testimony f r o m another source in contact with, yet outside, this high executive level put it this way: "His ideas on locai g o v e r n m e n t were pretty m u c h accepted while he was in the G o w o n g o v e r n m e n t . They were popular with the m a s s e s , civil servants, university d o n s , etc. He was probably the n u m b e r one advisor to G o w o n on the Hausa states." 4 During the civil war and in the early post-war years, General G o w o n derived legitimacy shrewdly by developing this relationship with A m i n u , k n o w i n g that by so doing he was able to draw in popular support for his regime and maintain contact with the m a s s e s — u n l i k e his predecessor General Ironsi. (Ironsi had proceeded as though he and his advisors k n e w what was best f o r the country and had only to c o n v i n c e or enforce their will upon the p o p u l a c e . ) In this way G o w o n placated A m i n u and his followers, while benefitting f r o m his sagacity in dealing with the people. " D u r i n g the early phase of the G o w o n regime, c o m m i s s i o n e r s were influential m e m b e r s of the g o v e r n m e n t , " 5 observes O y e d i r a n . Aminu on his part p e r f o r m e d in the service of his country, m a n a g i n g to get many of his

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political ideas adopted, while at the same time setting the stage for his own anticipated leadership role in the civilian regime which would ultimately c o m e to pass. During the post-war years that A m i n u served as a Federal C o m m i s sioner (till the end of 1974), he geared the bulk of his efforts toward national integration while maintaining a constant pressure on the military for a rapid well-planned return to civilian rule. E v e n as he p e r f o r m e d his ministerial duties, he was ever aware of the need to strengthen his ties with the people in all corners of the nation. A clear reflection of this could be found in several of his letters to the author during his stint as C o m m i s sioner of Health. "I fell ill twice because of fatigue but 1 do enjoy the work in health because it penetrates into every h o m e and serves me better politically. . . . I ' v e succeeded in getting really radical initiatives in health care delivery." (May II, 1973) S o m e months later, he wrote, "I visit rural health centers and clinics; . . . this gives me an opportunity to meet the peasants and observe them in their local conditions. I just met 500 mothers and more than twice that n u m b e r of their babes in a village in Katsina P r o v i n c e — t a l k i n g frankly and d e m a n d i n g their r i g h t s — n o longer afraid of doctors and m o d e r n methods. . . ." And: "Very shortly my new health policy will be launched. . . . It will be a real revolution in health matters and my proud baby. . . . " (February 19, 1974) T h u s , he didn't distinguish in degree or kind between his Federal G o v e r n m e n t role and his perception of his lifelong responsibilities to the people. Although organized politics had been forbidden during those years, it was abundantly clear that extensive preparatory activity had begun to stir and A m i n u was looking ahead toward a renewed political role in the near future. H e even perceived the launching of the first edition of this book, African Revolutionary, as part of this process, as his diary of February 19, 1974 reveals: "African Revolutionary c o m i n g out next m o n t h . It will really add to the m o m e n t u m . " (Note: T h e original edition was actually launched J u n e 8, 1973 at a party at the Nigerian Embassy, Tarrytown, N e w York, by A m b a s s a d o r E. O g b u , Nigerian Permanent Representative to United Nations [Publisher N. Y. Times B o o k C o . / Q u a d rangle]. T h e distribution of the C o m m o n w e a l t h Edition [Davison Publishing, Limited] followed nine months later.) Since all previous political organization had been shattered, A m i n u ' s broad goals of democracy, e c o n o m i c d e v e l o p m e n t , and an equitable distribution of the national wealth, which these would engender,

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had a fertile field in which to take root. New alliances, fresh ideas, and pre-organization could be quietly introduced f r o m the bottom up, while still keeping within the limits set by the Military G o v e r n m e n t . T h o u g h technically this political discourse was proscribed, it was to some degree permitted, even e n c o u r a g e d . "All clubs and voluntary bodies to be counted as bases of future operations; . . . take account of them a l l . " reads A m i n u ' s diary (July 9, 1973). Contacts with leadership from all parts of the country, as well as those back h o m e in K a n o , were quiet and unofficial but consistent. His diary is replete with references to this type of activity: June 28, 1973 July 15 August 19

S e p t e m b e r 11

Nuhu Bamali's choice is Shehu Shagari as leadership. . . . Lawan and Inuwa Wada agree with Nuhu's suggestion to proceed, but suggest slowly. . . . Leave for K a d u n a meeting of leaders. Preparation must be m a d e f o r e m e r g e n c y discussions on revenue allocations . . . It may give jackals a chance to stay. Enahoro c o n f i r m s military wants to stay in power. He wants a meeting of leaders.

As far back as August 6, 1970, Aminu wrote in a letter to the author: " I ' m busy with lectures, protest rallies and marches. . . . T h e main subject is South Africa and sale of arms to it. . . . We buried a C o m m o n wealth c o f f i n , . . . . addressed college students on 'Stand up and be c o u n t e d , ' . . . youth clubs, press c o n f e r e n c e s , e t c . " A n d then again on May 11, 1973: "I have lots to do . . . s e m i n a r o n national issues, launching a new type of School of Intermediate Technology; K a n o C o m m u n i t y C o m m e r c i a l College is now a reality—graduated over 150 s t u d e n t s — s o m e are now in the Finance Ministry, banks, insurance c o m p a n i e s , and about fifteen are in the universities. . . . Even into 1975, when he was no longer in the Federal G o v e r n m e n t , he said: "I busy myself promoting c o m m u n i t y e f f o r t for e d u c a t i o n — l i s tening to stories, true and false. . . . But the c a m p a i g n for civil liberties goes on until death or victory." (May 14, 1975) Obviously A m i n u didn't relax and sit b a c k , or wait for politics to catch u p with him. H e was always reaching out to pursue it most vigorously. Nor did he at any point accept the position of the government with equanimity and act accordingly. Rather, i n d e p e n d e n c e of thought and ac-

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tion characterized his approach to issues, whether inside or outside of government. W h e n the proposal for the Nigerian Youth C o r p s was introduced in early 1973, many of the students at w h o m the plan was directed responded adversely to it. They were concerned about the terms of service, fearing that they were to be unfairly singled out for sacrifice and called upon to d o work not connected with their training. They found Aminu at their sides, sympathizing with their plaints and d e m o n s t r a t i o n s , even though he still sat in the Federal Executive Council. H e complained that the students were not consulted about the t e r m s — t h a t it was m a d e c o m pulsory and simply imposed upon t h e m . This response of A m i n u ' s was apparently both personal and political, for it seems that he had conceived the idea for a Student Voluntary Youth C o r p s at university level, well before the formation of the Nigerian Youth C o r p s . W h e n he broached it to Generals G o w o n and E k p o as well as Kern S a l e m , they all gave it their blessing and agreed to sponsor it. A committee including Colonel Anyannu from Supreme Headquarters and others was f o r m e d and -N-4000-6000 was quickly raised (one naira was then worth about $1.65). But when General G o w o n indicated that Colonel A n y a n n u was u n d e r investigation, he subsequently was dropped f r o m the c o m m i t t e e and the whole project died. " I m a g i n e my s u r p r i s e , " said Aminu in an interview, " w h e n six months later almost the same words and objectives were used to launch the plan f o r c o m p u l s o r y service! T h e money is still there locked up in a bank account. . . . T h e g o v e r n m e n t can do what it wants with it. . . ," h A m i n u was on the side of the little people as usual, but this time there seemed to be a bit of pique involved as well. In spite of the ambivalence of his initial reaction, in the long run, he, the students, and the Nigerians generally accepted the Nigerian Youth Corps as the most controversyfree a c c o m p l i s h m e n t of the G o w o n regime. It has continued to this day, through five more successor regimes, as an integral part of Nigerian society. During the period immediately following the war, projections regarding the future of Nigeria revolved around plans f o r a constitution and the f o r m which political organization would take w h e n the military relinquished power. In 1970, after the conclusion of the civil war, S u p r e m e C o m m a n d e r Yakubu G o w o n a n n o u n c e d that a six-year transitional period

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would be needed before the country could return to civilian government. His proposed nine-point p r o g r a m , to be effected within that period, was as follows: 1. Reorganization of the armed forces. 2. Rebuilding and rehabilitation of war-damaged structures and institutions, and the successful c o m p l e t i o n of the second four-year Economic Plan. 3. Elimination of corruption f r o m public life. 4. Settlement of the question of h o w m a n y states Nigeria should ultimately c o m p r i s e . 5. Formulation of an acceptable constitution. 6. D e v e l o p m e n t of a revenue allocation formula between the states and the federal g o v e r n m e n t . 7. C o n d u c t i n g a census of the population. 8. Organization of political parties. 9. C o n d u c t i n g elections and setting u p a civilian g o v e r n m e n t . Tremendous popular acceptance greeted this p r o g r a m . A m i n u , however, was disturbed that the Federal E x e c u t i v e Council had not been consulted on the policy formulation: the nine points had merely been read to them. S o m e of the g o v e r n m e n t ' s promises were just too extravagant and could never be fulfilled, particularly the Second E c o n o m i c Plan. A m i n u felt that without adequate preparation and consultation, the people could not be mobilized. 7 He regarded the a n n o u n c e m e n t of these tasks and the quit date for the military as a pledge or c o m p a c t , and an integral part of his working relationship with the Federal G o v e r n m e n t . He felt that one of the greatest conflicts he had with General G o w o n was over the implementation of this program. Yet if he had been c o n v i n c e d that these years would in fact be utilized to i m p l e m e n t the nine-point p r o g r a m , actively and progressively, the unduly long period of reconstruction would not have upset him so much. Of these nine points, it was the lack of significant preparations for a new constitution and the political overtones that hung over the census difficulties that troubled Aminu m o s t . W h e n the census was finally taken, it was with all precautions and attention to detail in an attempt to avoid the customary accusations of partiality, but by May 1974, publication of delayed and tentative results of an a m a z i n g population shift, and overall growth to eighty million people, stirred u p the old north-south con-

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troversy f r o m its smoldering embers. With less than a 10 percent rise in the south, compared to a 75 percent rise for the north, the near fifty/fifty balance previously recorded in the 1963 census was knocked askew. The pending revenue allocations and legislative representation were expected to be based on relative population, making it inevitable that the everpresent fear of regional domination would actively flare up once again. Earlier allusions reflected Aminu's attitudes toward the unplanned and chaotic nature of the census problem. An after-the-fact analysis of the census difficulties ran as follows: T h e a r m y t h o u g h t they w o u l d do better than the politicians and get an a c c u r a t e c o u n t . T h e r e f o r e there w a s no c o n s u l t a t i o n with civilians and p o l i t i c i a n s , w h o they t h o u g h t w o u l d distort things. So they m a d e many m i s t a k e s . We w a t c h e d and w a i t e d . . . . E a c h state w a n t e d to m a g n i f y their p o p u l a t i o n . . . . For a near a c c u r a t e c o u n t , w e c o u l d have used the ' 6 3 figures, m o d i f i e d by the U . N . g r o w t h statistics ( 2 . 4 percent p o p u l a t i o n increase e a c h y e a r ) . . . . We p r o b a b l y won't have an accurate c e n s u s for a n o t h e r 2 0 - 3 0 y e a r s . "

Rising tension around this issue in the first six months of 1974 was accompanied by an uneasy realization that the oft-promised schedule for ending the military regime in 1976 was coming into question. Aminu c o m m e n t e d at the time: "The census issue might flare up . . . for some in the south see it as a declaration of intent by the north. . . . And the boys in khaki seem to be looking for something like this as a pretext to delay the return to civilian rule. But since the publication of the figures, 1 have been saying that we stand for ideas to unite Nigerians—not the preponderance of numbers by one or two states.' H) Despite his widely accepted reputation as a militant, here Aminu was expressing his preference for avoiding confrontational politics, while endeavoring quietly to unify his political base around his own nationalist approach to government. W h e n he coupled this caution with the latitude, prestige, and authority which derived from his ministerial rank as Commissioner of Health, he found his position greatly enhanced and his progress tangible. He travelled widely, talking to people, officials, and even students. Under the circumstances, his letters reflected a much more contented state of mind than before. But this personal sense of well being was not entirely without an awareness that change was in the offing. In another letter Aminu also

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m u s e d : " T h e task of getting the military chaps out of p o w e r is going to be a big o n e . Political ambitions have already b e c o m e a c o m p o n e n t part of their success. But returning to a parliamentary g o v e r n m e n t is a m u s t . " (May 11, 1973) His foreboding and ambivalence toward his dual role in the current g o v e r n m e n t on the o n e hand, and his anticipated status as peoples' representative in a civil g o v e r n m e n t on the other, continued on through 1974. F r o m all i n d i c a t i o n s , o u r a s s i g n m e n t s a s m e m b e r s of g o v e r n m e n t will e n d this year. T h e a n s w e r to m y call to t h e m i l i t a r y to a l l o w disc u s s i o n s o n n e w political a r r a n g e m e n t s a n d p a r t i e s c a m c f r o m the H e a d of G o v e r n m e n t w h o said that a n a n n o u n c e m e n t will c o m e in O c t o b e r , a n d t h a t o u r letters of a p p o i n t m e n t will e n d in S e p t e m b e r . . . .

It s e e m s w e are c o m i n g to t h e e n d of o u r a s s i g n m e n t w i t h t h e

m i l i t a r y a n d p o l i t i c s m a y b e g i n . But t h e p o s s i b i l i t y is thin f r o m t h e t e n d e n c i e s I s e e . . . . W e are w o r k i n g h a r d to p r e p a r e f o r a n a t i o n a l party. L o t s o f e y e s are o n m e . . . .'"

In the middle of all this uncertainty regarding his political status, A h m a d u Jalingo and myself were at first visited by Mallam A m i n u . Then he s u m m o n e d us to take dictation while his eyes were covered with banyears. By May 1974, his worsening eye difficulties required cataract surgery, which in itself was not life threatening, but which did present a significant inconvenience for him: stealing away large c h u n k s of time f r o m his already heavily overburdened schedule and limiting his vision and reading ability. A m i n u though w a s not one to sit idly by and allow events to limit his activities without fighting back. Dr. U s m a n Hassan, Professor in the School of General Studies at Bayero University at Kano w h o was at that time a student at the University of L o n d o n , c o m m e n t e d : " D r s . L i m a n , A h m e d Jalingo and myself were at first visited by Mallam A m i n u . Then he s u m m o n e d us to take dictation while his eyes were covered with bandages. T h e result was 'Fables To Sharpen T h e M i n d , ' a Hausa language book of fables that was published in 1979, and is still used as a reading text f o r primary school p u p i l s . " " On I n d e p e n d e n c e Day, October 1, 1974, the day of the year when so many important actions take place in Nigeria, c a m e the crucial pron o u n c e m e n t of an indefinite delay of the promised return to political gov-

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eminent. The obvious explanations were advanced: "If the . . . ban [on politics] is lifted the Old Horses would c o m e back and . . . run into trouble within six months. . . . We need another five to ten years." 1 2 General G o w o n himself indicated that he was convinced that 1976 was too soon to return government to civilians because politics of hatred reminiscent of the pre-military regime were bubbling again. However, the concurrent actions taken by the state (e.g., the arrest of both Ebenezer Babatope and Tai Solarin for articles critical of the Supreme Commander's abandonment of his own timetable) made it clear that the military was shifting its role from that of a transitional government, trying to deal with the tasks at hand, to that of a long-range alternative to political government. General Gowon's nine-point program had been meant to enumerate Nigeria's ongoing problems and to set in motion the effort to solve them. Yet, since ethnic micro-national loyalties, corruption, economic development, and the like, were all part of the ongoing dynamics of nation building, no deadline for a complete solution to these issues could possibly be met in six, sixteen, or sixty years—there could only be a beginning. Therefore, to use the controversy around the census or the possible formation of additional states as a pretext for an indefinite delay to the end of military rule was nought but a subterfuge to remain in power, thought Aminu, as did many other Nigerian leaders and would-be leaders. Nevertheless, the disappointment, though widespread, was not so strong that it led to a major upheaval or organized resistance. Just days prior to Gowon's pronouncement that the promised timetable was no longer applicable, West Africa Magazine made this assessment: "If the ' 7 6 date should prove impracticable, there would be no straightforward military-civilian confrontation. . . . However, the need for definite steps in preparation for a return to civilian rule would become paramount." 1 1 But those steps were not taken; only an indefinite delay. In a retrospective examination of this period immediately before and after his momentous speech, General Gowon expanded on his perception of these events: "That was trash regarding the military governors. . . . I said that I would change them in June or July, but I was thinking of the morale of my men, including the governors. . . . The Queen was planning to c o m e in mid-October, and then there was the FESTAC [African Festival of Arts and Culture] in November and December. I just didn't

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want to make c h a n g e s before these events. . . ." Regarding the return to civilian rule, he stated: "I thought that the ' 7 6 deadline was too soon. It would only give the military an excuse to return. . . . I never said never. . . . I wanted to see the Third Economic Plan work before changes. . . . We could have gotten there with peace and stability, by 1980." On corruption, he added, "Others may have thought I was going to eliminate corruption, but I merely said I would deal with it as best I could. I tried to improve remuneration for government employees and 1 was accused of bribing public servants. . . . I also had to clean up our own house in the army f i r s t . " W h e n asked what he considered his shortcomings, and what would he have done differently, after a m o m e n t of contemplation he responded: "I didn't follow the political events carefully enough; rather, I concentrated more on the e c o n o m i c . I guess that could be considered a shortcoming. . . . I was interested in stability. . . . If I had wanted to play the g a m e , I would have positioned myself differently. . . ."' 4 A m i n u had quite a different view of these last years before G o w o n ' s ouster (1973—July 1975). He considered that the Supreme C o m m a n d e r had been doing a creditable j o b , but that his immense popularity had peaked during the two or three years following the civil war. After that he continued to try to please the populace, but primarily so that he could stay on. As time e l a p s e d . General G o w o n ' s recognition as a world leader grew. He revelled in the acclaim given him abroad, even as his popularity sank domestically. No organized internal opposition developed as his promise to return to civilian rule by 1976 fell by the wayside, but his support system was w e a k e n e d . With no registration of popular will contemplated, he lost contact with the people and could no longer count on their protection; he thus rendered himself vulnerable to removal by coup, just as he had c o m e . A m i n u illustrated this with a story that General G o w o n told him about a rally he had attended in Togo. Eyadeina, Togo's President, had stated that since Nigeria was solving its problems, General G o w o n was preparing to leave o f f i c e . T h e crowd roared, " N o , N o . " In repeating this incident, A m i n u a d d e d , "If it was in Nigeria, all would have thought 'At last!'" 1 5 T h e military c a m e and changed things without public consultation as the occasions arose, but as they lost touch with the people, they fell prey to the next batch of coup-makers. At that point at least, Aminu likened the Supreme C o m m a n d e r to

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Louis XVI of France: He had grown soft, finding it difficult to act when the need arose; he tended to present his conclusions to the Federal Executive Council after he had reached them, rather than to consult with his councilors while in the process; and with time he seemed to worsen—the more the criticism, the more the Chief felt he was right. One e x a m p l e Aminu gave of this tendency was Gowon's handling of the accusation of corruption against Governor Gomwalk: "General Gowon received the affidavit of accusation and cleared him of all charges in one day. That really finished him. I was in very close touch with Ibo leaders. They were grateful that General G o w o n had protected them in the past, but even they were turned off. He should have turned it over to the police. Even his own people were sad."" 1 Aminu's critical perception of the Supreme Military C o m m a n d e r ' s tactics regarded him as trying to placate key segments of the society in order to prolong military rule. The Udoji awards were a bone thrown to the workers in an attempt to quiet the trade unions, military, and civil servants. (The Udoji Committee, named after its chair and set up to examine the economy r e c o m m e n d e d , among other things, a sharp increase in wage scales for government and private employees.) Gowon's assumption of power to set the price for produce would permit him to raise prices to appease the farmers; and, then, if he gave Universal Primary Education to the parents of the land, everything would be in place. All this of course without making any basic changes or improving the e c o n o m y — t h e oil money was there to take care of the financing. Although there was no evidence of open political disagreement between the military group and the Federal Executive Committee, Aminu was dropped from the cabinet rolls when the soldiers and technicians took over and the role of the politicians dwindled. At the same time he was beginning his own process of disengagement. "From the day of the declaration of the indefinite delay of a return to civilian rule I stayed away from all receptions and official functions." 1 7 While he avoided active friction with the Supreme Military Government, he had never hesitated to express any of his militant differences with them. Thus, when December 31, 1974, the time to leave the Federal Executive Council, came and passed, his basic attitude toward the Federal Government did not change drastically. The duality he had felt regarding his service with the Military Government on the one hand and his opposition to it on the other had not represented a conflict to him. He was

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beholden to the people above all else, and in both roles or either, he saw himself as a consistent adherent to this c o m m i t m e n t . During his last days as a commissioner, his diary did speak of the "folly and i m p o t e n c e " of the choices for the new Federal Executive Council and the dangerous trend toward an undemocratic system. "Individual f r e e d o m will suffer, the press will die. . . . Democrats need to prepare for struggle to [the] finish." 1 * This pessimistic evaluation didn't call for retreat or c h a n g e , but rather for more and more fighting back. This period in A m i n u ' s l i f e — f r o m the time he left his ministry until his return to politics—could be characterized as a kind of lull; nevertheless, A m i n u ' s rapid pace never really slackened. He toured the eastern, northern, and western states, addressing tribal groups, universities, and many others. It seemed evident to A m i n u ' s supporters that he was very popular with the majority of Nigerians, particularly the Ibos, w h o were looking ahead to Mallam leading Nigeria. His stance during this complex period of waiting for the Federal G o v e r n m e n t to break out of its apparent inability to take the next logical step, the implementation of its pledge to phase itself out, was tersely s u m m e d up by Abbas Wali: " M a l l a m Aminu stood for military accountability and this would have been very g o o d , but it was also clearly difficult for the soldiers to police themselves. At this point A m i n u ' s primary locus of operation moved f r o m Lagos to K a n o , but the type and scope of his activity hardly missed a beat. A m o n g his New Year's Resolutions were the following: 1. Try to remain morally strong, modest, patient, clean. 2. Solution to political structure must be democratic at all costs. 3. Enter business s o m e h o w to get tools to accomplish above. 4. Be nearer to family and take care of self. 2 " A m i n u needed to find a modest substitute source of income to keep body and soul together since he had never been one to squirrel away any f u n d s f o r a rainy day. However, this potential drain on his time hardly drew more than cursory attention—he continued to be short of f u n d s as always and quite unaware of his personal welfare as well. W h e n faced with the prospect of more time on his hands, he did give sporadic thought to the state of his personal life, but characteristically his family continued to receive no more than passing notice. For e x a m p l e , on his first day back in K a n o (January 28, 1975), his diary reads: "Start a new life. . . . Shatu upset by private matters again. . . ." If there was any significant change

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in his life, it was the increase in time available to devote to his true love— his contact with, and organizing on behalf of, the masses, despite the existing constraints on political activity. In the same revealing interview already cited several times (August 24-27, 1976), Aminu projected some of his future intentions in this fashion: "I was relieved that I was out of government by that time. I intended, if he kept me in the Federal Executive Council, to resign and to declare myself a free man in ' 7 6 , launch a political party, and face arrest. There were many groups waiting for some action from me. The situation would have been explosive. I would have gotten massive support from all, even Local Authorities and traditional leaders." His estimate of the extent and depth of his support was certainly optimistic, for such were his feelings toward that group a m o n g the elite who so often professed loyalty, yet who just as often moved off in the welltrodden path to opportunism when the occasion arose. The upsurge he spoke of surely would have been there on the part of the masses of the Hausa-Fulani but not so surely from the traditional leaders or their sycophants. He didn't leave his official Lagos residence until January 26, 1975, yet by early January his diary was already outlining his projected plans for the struggle to the finish for a political party—right down to a name (People's Parliamentary Party—PPP), possible symbols, launching dates, thoughts on organization of small groups on campuses, in-state capitals to serve as nuclei, "social mobilization for final political integration," and insistence on a non-violent approach. When a NEPA Nigerian Electric and Power Authority work stoppage bathed Lagos in total darkness, Aminu registered a silent scream, almost a last-minute cry: "only return to civil rule is answer for country, but who will tell the boss'?21 The end of January and the beginning of February were devoted to the transition back to K a n o and civilian life, and the active consolidation of his ties with the people at all levels. By the middle of February Aminu found himself out of the country, first on an Arab League-sponsored trip to Cairo and Tripoli. The relative isolation and loneliness he felt in Libya proved to be an occasion for some moody and somewhat mixed reflections on the need to reassure Great Britain that "the oil market will remain, in order to penetrate the E E C , " together with "the back-home chances for democracy, elimination of misery, and the establishment of dignity and national pride in our people without violent c o n f u s i o n s . " "

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Then on to N e w York City and a few feeble ineffective attempts at establishing s o m e kind of business to make e n d s meet. Upon his return f r o m his brief spell abroad, he once again picked up his political pursuits throughout the country, still convinced that the Supreme Military G o v e r n m e n t was attempting to neutralize politics and politicians and to mobilize traditional leadership, all directed toward a prolongation of military rule and dictatorship. Allusions in his diary and elsewhere could lead one to suspect that he had s o m e inkling that there were plans afoot to depose G o w o n , but at no point did he ever intimate that he had access to or knowledge of any plot in the making. He assuredly wanted someone up there w h o would turn to democratic rule and was apparently convinced that the opportunity would present itself in short order. A m i n u never seemed to develop an intimacy with any segment of the military under G o w o n or his successors. He felt strongly that the illness of all military regimes was that they had " p o w e r without responsibility." and that applied to any military in government. His impatience to push ahead to civil d e m o c r a c y didn't lend itself to close relations with the soldiers except insofar as they would cooperate toward this elusive goal. W h e n G o w o n was m o v i n g in that direction they worked well together; when this m o v e m e n t slowed and stopped, Aminu found himself estranged and distrustful. At that point, he brooded: "They have no intention to return to a one m a n one vote system. There is a dark s h a d o w of one-party dictatorship, bordering on fascism." 2 1 A m i n u was upset at the malfeasance of all the state governors, but he was particularly distressed at what he saw as the self-indulgence, arrog a n c e , and h i g h - h a n d e d n e s s of Audu Bako, the G o v e r n o r of K a n o State. His reference to B a k o as an " a v o w e d e n e m y of Islam, Fulani and welfare, [as a] thieving and cruel tyrant, immoral and guilty of evils not often seen by men" 2 4 carried with it the intensity of one w h o felt personally victimized. He was certainly more familiar with the excesses of the Governor of K a n o than the others, but Bako's breaches of morality o f f e n d e d Aminu beyond all else. Ostensibly this was a reflection of his continuing concentration on and great concern with K a n o . his h o m e base. In the face of all this, Aminu was clearly pleased when Murtala Ramat M o h a m m e d and his cohorts displaced G o w o n as Head of State on C o u p Day, July 29, 1975. " T h e storm has b r o k e n — m u c h earlier than prayed f o r — s t a g e d by the same brigade as in the July ' 6 6 c o u p . General

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G o w o n d e t h r o n e d and g o v e r n m e n t d i s m i s s e d , " c o m m e n t e d A m i n u . " W e pray that the n e w rulers will stick to p r o g r a m of return to civil r u l e . " 2 5 A m i n u ' s w o r k i n g r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h , and attitude t o w a r d , e a c h successive military g o v e r n m e n t w a s in direct r e l a t i o n s h i p to the s p e e d and consistency with w h i c h each p l a n n e d and m o v e d t o w a r d civilian rule. A s he saw it, the n e w military r e g i m e ' s c h o i c e w a s to f o l l o w a t r a n s i t i o n a l , corrective path rather than to try to p r o d u c e a l o n g - t e r m a l t e r n a t i v e , as its predecessor u n d e r G o w o n did toward t h e end of its h e g e m o n y . Its credibility was to b e b a s e d on v i g o r o u s a d m i n i s t r a t i o n a n d rigorous fealty to its stated d e a d l i n e s f o r m e e t i n g the issues at h a n d : the c e n s u s , local g o v e r n ment r e f o r m s , constitution m a k i n g , party f o r m a t i o n , and e v e n t u a l l y the election. So long as this p r o g r e s s i o n was s c r u p u l o u s l y f o l l o w e d and A m i n u and the p e o p l e w e r e p e r m i t t e d to circulate relatively freely d u r i n g the transition, he felt c o m f o r t a b l e and f u n c t i o n e d accordingly. At that point in t i m e , neither he nor any of the o t h e r m a j o r political f i g u r e s w e r e called u p o n for a d m i n i s t r a t i v e p o s t s , as in t h e early G o w o n p e r i o d of crisis and civil w a r ; rather he prepared to m a k e his m a r k f r o m the o u t s i d e at e a c h s u c c e s s i v e stage of the a b o v e - m e n t i o n e d p r o g r e s s i o n . A l t h o u g h Mui tala M o h a m m e d w a s a K a n o m a n a l s o , and related to A m i n u in a distant way, they had not e v e n m e t until a f t e r the July 1966 c o u p and had gotten t o g e t h e r but o n c e d u r i n g his brief s o j o u r n as S u p r e m e C o m m a n d e r . A m i n u e x p r e s s e d great r e s e r v a t i o n s about w h a t to e x p e c t f r o m this i m p u l s i v e leader, but M u r t a l a ' s d e c i s i v e n e s s in action and m a n ner did s e e m to fill m a n y of his p r e c o n c e p t i o n s of h o w a leader s h o u l d conduct himself: " N i g e r i a n e e d s an i n d i v i d u a l w h o can interpret at least o n e half of its a s p i r a t i o n s , " M a l l a m said at o n e p o i n t , a d d i n g , " N o t so m u c h n e w ideas as the personification

of these ideas. H e [ M u r t a l a ] i d e n t i f i e d with

A f r i c a f i r m l y and d e c i s i v e l y w h e n he c a m e d o w n hard on the MPLA side in A n g o l a . . . ," 2 h M u r t a l a ' s

persistent

v i g o r and

its c a r r y - o v e r

to

O b a s a n j o , his s u c c e s s o r , e v i d e n t l y c o n v i n c e d A m i n u that: "All [is] g o i n g w e l l . . . . We will return to civilian rule in ' 7 9 . . . . T h e a r m y h a s to g o . . . . T h e y k n o w it and w a n t it t o o , " 2 7 e v e n t h o u g h a m a s s i v e p u r g e of p u b l i c s e r v a n t s had j u s t j o l t e d the n a t i o n . M u r t a l a ' s p r o m p t action p o s t p o n i n g t h e l a g g i n g international arts f e s t i v a l (FESTAC), c a n c e l l i n g the b e c l o u d e d 1973 c e n s u s results, a p p o i n t ing n e w Military G o v e r n o r s , a n d r e c o n s i d e r i n g a political p r o g r a m lead-

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ing to a return to civilian g o v e r n m e n t , immediately removed most of the controversial issues and had a very soothing effect on the nation. A m i n u was shocked by the allegations of corruption a m o n g the deposed Military G o v e r n o r s and state administrator (Asika). and was overjoyed w h e n they were all quickly removed from o f f i c e , especially Audu B a k o of K a n o , but he remained wary and watchful. Fidelity to the promised timetable would remain his yardstick. By O c t o b e r 1, 1975 a new schedule for a four-year five-stage transition to civil rule was announced in detail, including when and how each issue at stake would be resolved. Phase I established a c o m m i t t e e on new states f o r m a t i o n , to report by D e c e m b e r 1975. In addition, by October 3 m e m b e r s of the decisive Constitutional Drafting C o m m i t t e e (CDC) were n o m i n a t e d , and by the 18th it had already held its first meeting. W h e n A m i n u and others he knew of as progressives were appointed to this CDC, it was as it should be, though he was put out that there were no w o r k e r s ' , s t u d e n t s ' , or w o m e n ' s representatives. Events were basically m o v i n g in the right direction. Although noting d e e p concern for the slow, simmering discontent seething particularly a m o n g the thousands w h o were dismissed, so far as A m i n u was concerned he was firmly seated in the locomotive heading across the nation toward d e m o c r a c y and f r e e d o m . A little faster or a little slower at times, shunted to a siding at others, but no matter, so long as it kept moving forward and wasn't derailed once again. Most of the ground rules laid down by the new S u p r e m e Military C o m m a n d e r were already part of A m i n u ' s Grand Plan, and those that were not, he could deal with. T h u s , when he was named chair of the Drafting C o m m i t t e e ' s subcommittee that mattered most to h i m — C i t i z e n s h i p , H u m a n Rights, Elections and Political Parties—it fitted his blueprint. During the original constitutional discussions with the British before i n d e p e n d e n c e , M a l l a m A m i n u ' s role had been to focus on basic h u m a n rights, insisting that they be included in the f o u n d i n g charter of the nation. O n c e again he was embarked on that same course. T h e addition of elections and political parties as part of his jurisdiction also fitted well into his continuing preoccupation with these matters. He was pleased to be part of the overall Drafting C o m m i t t e e , m a k i n g decisions on the questions of governmental f o r m s (presidential or parliamentary), the judicial s y s t e m , and the like. Realizing that he couldn't be an intimate part of the detailed structuring of all constitutional issues, he was,

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nevertheless, in his element with "Fundamental Rights," and did make a profound contribution to its inclusion in the new constitution. An ingenious way of insuring that all contending political parties assume and retain a national character was devised by Aminu and his subcommittee through the introduction of a constitutional requirement that victory in a presidential election could be achieved only by garnering 25 percent or more of the vote in at least two-thirds of the states, in addition to attaining a national plurality. The controversy around this requirement that cropped up in the heat of the 1979 election, notwithstanding, the intent of this clause was firmly imbedded in the national consciousness and roundly supported by all the nation. He was similarly pleased when his dream of full political equality for women was included in the new constitution. In a letter to the author, he wrote: "It will interest you to know that the women of the north will have the right to vote in the next election. . . . It is a revolution." : i < Aminu's initial speech to the convened CDC trumpeted his political stance and what he hoped to achieve through his active participation in this constitutional process. His stress on unity and socialism presented a somewhat incongruous juxtaposition of two goals—the first, professedly endorsed unanimously; the second, at best controversial. Aminu knew well that the mere existence of one or for that matter several ideologies was no guarantee of democratic or good government in the absence of purposeful leadership. But he simply hoped everyone would see it as he did; namely, that both of these goals were clearly in the true interest of the Nigerian masses, and that ultimately these two concepts would merge. "[With no private capital,] government must play [the] role of planner, investor and manager. S o m e may call this socialism, but it is the natural role of any African government. . . . This is not an ideological abstraction and isn't judgmental. I am more interested in the purpose of government than its mechanics," he said.- 1 'As one would suspect, however, any restriction of the constitution to a specific ideology was eventually excluded from the final version. Without indicating great concern about the number of states Nigeria should have, Aminu did express at various times certain principles which he felt should be the basis for settling this, the first phase of Murtala's five-stage plan. "Twelve states or more [are] O . K . , but when the decision [is] taken there must be a final and f i r m ' n o m o r e . ' . . . Structural imbalance, non-viability and ethnic rivalry must be avoided. . . . We

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s h o u l d n ' t m a k e a fetish of linguistic d i f f e r e n c e s , ' ' h e c o m m e n t e d . T h e n , t h o u g h p r o b a b l y a sticky point f o r many, he a d d e d that " e v e r y Nigerian s h o u l d b e f r e e to b e c o m e a citizen and full resident of any s t a t e . ' " " W h e n eight n e w states w e r e a d d e d to t h e N i g e r i a n F e d e r a t i o n , his c o m m e n t w a s a l m o s t c a s u a l , indicating a d e g r e e of d e t a c h m e n t : " F i r m stand taken on n e w s t a t e s — n a m e s very o r i g i n a l . " " R a t h e r than c o n c e r n himself with the b r e a k d o w n into smaller units, h o w e v e r , he s e e m i n g l y p r e f e r r e d to think in t e r m s of m e r g i n g A f r i c a n nations into e v e n larger u n i o n s , s u c h as a G r e a t e r West A f r i c a State, to o n e day rival the o t h e r great states of the w o r l d . But on F e b r u a r y 13, A m i n u ' s and the nation's i m m e r s i o n in c o n s t i t u tion p l a n n i n g w a s a b r u p t l y halted w h e n the regime's well laid plans f o r a s m o o t h rapid transition were rudely interrupted by an u n s u c c e s s f u l c o u p a t t e m p t and the a s s a s s i n a t i o n of its C h i e f of State, M u r t a l a M o h a m m e d . O n the d a y f o l l o w i n g his murder, M u r t a l a ' s b o d y w a s flown to K a n o , his h o m e city. S u c h w a s A m i n u ' s s t a n d i n g in K a n o at the t i m e that d e s p i t e the lack of i n t i m a c y b e t w e e n the t w o d u r i n g M u r t a l a ' s l i f e t i m e , the p o w e r s that were in K a n o t u r n e d to h i m to m a k e the n e c e s s a r y a r r a n g e m e n t s — t h e g r a v e y a r d site, p u t t i n g the rites in p l a c e , and then burial itself. W h e n deleg a t i o n s arrived f r o m all over the c o u n t r y to pay h o m a g e to M u r t a l a , they didn't fail to stop to see A m i n u . D e p e n d i n g on the c i r c u m s t a n c e s , s o m e actually b e d d e d d o w n in and a r o u n d M a m b a i y a H o u s e , A m i n u ' s h o m e . Logically, A m i n u w a s a key f i g u r e d u r i n g the s e v e n d a y s of m o u r n ing as w e l l . A rally at City Hall heard a d d r e s s e s by t h e E m i r and the G o v e r n o r w i t h the v i e w to c a l m i n g t e m p e r s . A m i n u h i m s e l f a p p e a r e d on K a d u n a television with the s a m e p u r p o s e in m i n d , i . e . , to retain t h e p e o p l e ' s c o n f i d e n c e in the g o v e r n m e n t . T h e w i n d - u p c a m e on F e b r u a r y 2 0 with special p r a y e r s and the r e n a m i n g of the Ikeja A i r p o r t to M u r t a l a M o h a m m e d A i r p o r t . ( T h r o u g h a quirk of fate s e v e n y e a r s later, u p o n A m i n u ' s o w n d e m i s e , he h i m s e l f w a s m e m o r i a l i z e d by the r e n a m i n g of N i g e r i a ' s o t h e r m a j o r airport, in K a n o , to A m i n u K a n o A i r p o r t . ) W h e n A m i n u returned to L a g o s shortly t h e r e a f t e r to c o n t i n u e his a t t e n d a n c e at C o n s t i t u t i o n D r a f t i n g C o m m i t t e e m e e t i n g s , h e and o t h e r s r e m a i n e d quite u n e a s y a b o u t the d e s t a b i l i z i n g e f f e c t of the a t t e m p t e d c o u p , d e s p i t e t h e p r o m p t a s s u m p t i o n of p o w e r by the next in c o m m a n d , L i e u t e n a n t G e n e r a l O l u s e g u n O b a s a n j o , and the military g o v e r n m e n t ' s c o n f i d e n t r e a s s u r a n c e s to the n a t i o n . H e was c o n c e r n e d that foreign i n f l u e n c e (Great Britain) m i g h t b e i n v o l v e d in s o m e way. If so, he w o n d e r e d

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whether Nigeria would have the capacity to deal with the nation involved. His role during this troubled time was summed up by Ladipo Ademolegun, "Perhaps the most constructive suggestion made in all tributes [to Murtala] is that made by Aminu Kano, that the emerging sense of national unity should be capitalized upon for the purpose of pursuing the regime's program, i.e., . . . O n e Nigeria." 1 2 Despite these concerns, Aminu was quickly reabsorbed in the draft constitution meetings, back on the one track that had always had meaning for him—politics and civilian government. This single-minded focus, although occupying the bulk of his time and thoughts, actually had to vie with the many tangential tugs on him. There was always his inner family dynamics. His concentration on politics hardly made for a quiet idyllic personal existence, so that his home life seemed little more than petty squabbles. He made sure that the household always had what he considered its minimal requirements, but with Aminu's utter disdain for the amenities of life, this hardly met the minimum requirements of the children and wives in the c o m p o u n d . His New Year assessment read this way. " N o debt headaches except friends. . . . Domestic problems boil down to care of the children in school." 1 1 Gifts of cloth or clothes from friends, he would hand to thern casually, but the net result of all this was disgruntlement. His role therefore often became that of listening to complaints and responding as he saw fit—usually no more than an appeasing or off-hand decision m a d e in passing, en route to one meeting or another. His diary is replete with personal entries over the years, almost always noting the struggle between his two wives or one of their complaints or another, as though he could only spare the moment to note the problem, not the time or energy to actually deal with it. He could treat his household problems casually without catastrophic effects, but he couldn't deal so diffidently with another major intrusion on his time, his health. Not that he didn't try that too, for long periods of time, but when he did so the results were more disastrous. On January 27, 1976, Aminu was apprised by a Dr. Barr that the retina of one of his eyes was punctured and would require a serious operation. Yet, he was off to Zaria, Jos, and other places; took care of the memorial arrangements for Murtala M o h a m m e d with its attendant hubbub and crowds; returned to Lagos for further constitutional discussions—and on and on. It wasn't until April 1, a full two months later that he left for London to check his eye condition, and then an additional

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month before the operation was actually p e r f o r m e d . Even while he was in the Moorfield Eye Hospital in L o n d o n , his primary preoccupation was the future of Nigeria. " T h r o u g h o u t the eleven days in hospital I've been haunted as to how we can establish a modern democratic and contented Nigeria that can still contribute to the lot of m a n k i n d . ' " 4 How much these delays contributed to his eye problem remains unassessed, but by June 14, he realized that the sight in his right eye was gone irretrievably. The deterioration of his health was beginning to eat into his consciousness and affect the way he f u n c t i o n e d . When Lieutenant General O b a s a n j o , successor to Murtala M o h a m med took over, he quickly made it clear that the return to civil rule would not be slowed. T h u s , the second phase of the five-stage transition, namely the reorganization of Local G o v e r n m e n t , was quickly put on track. His forthright pledges to continue the transition time-table were reinforced by statements of the n u m b e r two man in the r e g i m e . Brigadier Shehu Yar'Adua, Chief of Staff Supreme Headquarters. "Implementation of local reforms is the first step toward a return to civil rule. . . . Widespread local conference reports merged into a final Ibadan conference working paper . . . which was . . . submitted to the people, traditional rulers, and state military administrators for individual adjustment and finally c a m e the 'Guidelines for Local R e f o r m s . ' " 1 * Aminu saw the continuing progress toward this third tier of government as all to the g o o d , for it helped to abolish the remnants of the old Native Authority system of the British. " T h e whole image of the country has c h a n g e d , especially with the removal of power from the e m i r s . " " ' More specifically, even though he was all for retaining the religious and cultural roles of the e m i r s , he was not too happy when their functions overlapped those of the Local G o v e r n m e n t s ( e . g . , when ten new districts were created in K a n o and the Emir of Kano was asked to name the District Heads). But his real concern was with the leeway granted to the existing traditional big wigs to d e t e r m i n e , together with the military, the n u m b e r of Local Council m e m b e r s to be nominated (though a majority had to be elected) and w h e t h e r the elections should be indirect or direct. He was upset when Kano opted f o r indirect elections and blamed the Federal Government for permitting these options. He publicly criticized this as "very bad. It has drawn us back twenty y e a r s , " and continued with, "the affected local councils will be filled with political yes-men and errand boys

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of some state rulers. . . . It also renews the dying attitude that one part of the country is more developed than a n o t h e r . " " As a consequence, he didn't participate directly and tried to play the role of an advisor and planner instead. Publicly, he was officially boycotting the Kano local elections on principle, as undemocratic. The Marafan Kano defended the state's choices with "misunderstanding, misinformation and politicking about indirect elections by some people misrepresents the state's intention. Through it all, however, Aminu was pleased with the Kano results. His influence was such that it evidently even stretched into this indirect system. Wherever there was popular consultation in the state, he and his friends seemed to be winning. In the pre-political positioning he stretched the concept of unity even to include his lifelong foe Inuwa Wada, but he had to have been pleased when Inuwa narrowly squeaked through the Local Government election for one week, only to be thrown out the next by the Electoral Appeals Commission for bribing voters with cash and kind gifts. Even Inuwa's relation, selected to contest the seat in a run-off contest when he was disqualified, was defeated. The first ever electoral victory of Hajia Shugabu Tabaru and several female candidates in other northern states in this election gave Aminu further cause to celebrate. His enduring dream of women's liberation in the North was coming to pass, for here they were freely voting along with the men and even getting elected. In spite of the growing number of obstacles, Aminu's message seemed to be taking hold. This solid support, however, was primarily a local p h e n o m e n o n . Though the Supreme Military Council, and the constitutional mechanism it had set in motion, had been attempting to insure a national character to the political process, it had actually almost guaranteed the opposite, that the emerging leadership would be locally based. When the military refused to throw open the political gates until one year before the elections were to take place, they effectively squelched any attempt by political contenders to broaden their national contacts and influence. Although one full year of active country-wide campaigning would place a great strain on the treasuries of the poorer parties, this time span was still too short a period to build a national constituency a m o n g the masses. With such restrictions, national parties could take shape only through alliances between individual leaders whose locally based followings were already in place.

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E v e n if this b a n on political parties had not b e e n i m p o s e d , in order for the nation to take the giant step f r o m Local G o v e r n m e n t elections to state a n d n a t i o n a l l e v e l s , the C o n s t i t u e n t C o n s t i t u t i o n a l A s s e m b l y still had yet to translate the D r a f t i n g C o m m i t t e e ' s r e c o m m e n d a t i o n s into final f o r m . T h e A s s e m b l y w e n t on for a full year, with d e b a t e w a x i n g hot at t i m e s , but e a c h issue w a s resolved m o r e or less c a l m l y with s o m e give and t a k e . H o w e v e r , the o n e issue that wasn't resolved so readily w a s that of the S h a r i a ( I s l a m i c ) C o u r t s . "It w a s d u r i n g the d i f f i c u l t d e b a t e o v e r the Federal S h a r i a C o u r t of A p p e a l s that the C o n s t i t u e n t A s s e m b l y e d g e d closest to r e o p e n i n g t h o s e d e e p splits w h i c h c a u s e d t r a u m a . " " ' T h e conserv a t i v e s , liberals, and radicals f r o m the d e e p l y r e l i g i o u s M u s l i m northern areas united to lead the so-called p r o - S h a r i a f o r c e s s u p p o r t i n g a separate Federal S h a r i a C o u r t of A p p e a l s , and s o u t h e r n M u s l i m s w e r e generally f o l l o w i n g their lead. T h e C D C had agreed to r e c o m m e n d a separate federal s y s t e m for a S h a r i a C o u r t as a court of last resort, in e f f e c t c o m p l e t i n g a parallel s y s t e m of j u s t i c e in the nation in regard to M u s l i m p e r s o n a l law. But in its s u c c e s s o r C o n s t i t u e n t A s s e m b l y , the a n t i - S h a r i a f o r c e s o b j e c t e d that this w o u l d be d i v i s i v e and discriminatory, that the M u s l i m s o u g h t not be g i v e n special status. T h e r e were o b v i o u s o v e r t o n e s of p r e v i o u s N o r t h S o u t h d i s p u t e s , as well as ethnic and religious d i f f e r e n c e s . A s far b a c k as A u g u s t 1977, w h i l e t h e C D C w a s still in s e s s i o n , Dr. M . T. L i m a n of B a y e r o University, K a n o said, " T h e real struggle was f o r Islam to get a position in the constitution c o m m e n s u r a t e with [its] n u m b e r s . . . . S h a r i a L a w . . . should regulate [a M u s l i m ' s ] life f r o m the c r a d l e to the g r a v e . " For the o t h e r s i d e , C y p r i a n Ejiasa r e s p o n d e d : "Sharia . . .

is a religious matter. A fair c o n s t i t u t i o n treats all alike re-

gardless

numbers. . . . This

of

is

hardly . . . t h e

notion

of

One

N i g e r i a . . . ." 4 " D e s p i t e the a t t e m p t by R o t i m i W i l l i a m s , the c h a i r of the C D C to explain to the C o n s t i t u e n t A s s e m b l y w h y t h e C D C h a d r e c o m m e n d e d the S h a r i a C o u r t — a n d e v e n t h o u g h A m i n u noted that " n o r t h n o w sees the failure of its tactics. . . . A g r e e to pipe d o w n on S h a r i a issue and reconcile w i t h s o u t h e r n e r s a n d C h r i s t i a n s , ' " " — t h e issue f l a r e d u p in e a r n e s t in t h e C o n s t i t u e n t A s s e m b l y . W h e n the c h a i r r e f u s e d to allow f u r t h e r study of its s u b - c o m m i t t e e d e c i s i o n against

a Federal S h a r i a A p p e a l s C o u r t , 87

of the 2 0 3 m e m b e r s of t h e C o n s t i t u e n t A s s e m b l y , later s w o l l e n to 9 3 ,

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walked out and didn't return to the debate until weeks later after an appeal and warning of the need for unity from the Head of State to the dissident group. A compromise proposal to have three Justices of the Appeal Court, well versed and generally trained in Islamic law, make the necessary decisions was advanced but rejected by the pro-Sharia group. Those remaining in the Assembly after the walk-out accepted this new proposal and eventually, when the conference was concluded, it remained as the law of the land. The pro-Sharia group protested vigorously in a statement that debate had been cut off arbitrarily, and that they all wanted peace and unity. Muslims from all sides of the political spectrum signed it, from Aminu to Shettima Ali M o n g u n o , Adamu Ciroma, all the way through to Ibrahim Dasuki, but to no avail for discussion was not reopened. What was Aminu's role in all of this? As chair of one of the subcommittees of the CDC, he was automatically given a seat in the Constituent Assembly. Yet nowhere can one read of any doubts Aminu might have had on the Sharia question. One would suspect that he might have had some inner conflict between his liberal-radical approach to politics, as characterized by a consistent drive to separate religion, tradition, and state, and his devout adherence to Islam. True enough, when weighing the pros and cons of the issue, there were enough good reasons available to reinforce his bent toward supporting the Federal Sharia Court of Appeals. I f h e h a d h a d any doubts, Aminu, learned in Islam and its interpretations, could have c o m e up with some Koranic reference to treatment of non-Muslims that would jibe with his somewhat unconventional views. He had done just this before, during his NEPU years, in an earlier conflict with the traditional authorities regarding his political alliance with non-Muslims. But, here, a strong element of pragmatism wherein he recognized the total and unanimous support given to the CDC recommendations by the Muslim community probably helped reinforce his support for the pro-Sharia forces. Armed with ample arguments, he could stick with the overwhelming majority and not isolate himself from the masses. Perhaps a clue to his action here might be found in an old interview with him (August 1976) in which he discussed the issue of federalism versus confederalism: "I supported confederalism in the 1966 Ad Hoc meetings because otherwise I would have been the only

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one. I felt therefore that it couldn't work as a f e d e r a t i o n . " T h u s , though his ultimate stand with the united M u s l i m c o m m u n i t y was quite explicable on these grounds, it was surprising that he registered no doubts, either publicly or privately, during the decision-making process. Neither were there any recorded opinions to the contrary, supporting the Sharia C o u r t , in his personal papers. What he did record in his diary and letters merely reflected the actions actually taken by one group or the other. It is certainly conceivable that A m i n u ' s quiescence reflected his awareness of the potentially divisive nature of the issue. His unhesitating c o n d e m n a t i o n of indirect elections for Local C o u n cils, where he felt he would have strong support a m o n g the masses and strong opposition a m o n g the traditional leaders, had no parallel reflections in the Sharia controversy. He neither objected to nor took any leadership role for or against either position. He just signed all the d o c u m e n t s and took all of the official stands of the pro-Sharia group. T h e first stirrings of political activity crept up on the nation in the f o r m of so-called social groups with n a m e s and supposed f u n c t i o n s that were glaringly o b v i o u s covers for the political organizations that were soon to follow. As far back as January 14, 1976, A m i n u noted in his diary: " O u r National Council For Mutual Understanding asked by police to stop operating. Inform all branches that as organization has b e c o m e nationwide it has a s s u m e d political s h a p e . " Coincidently, A m i n u reported that an "informal meeting of the northern g r o u p [of the CDC] h e l d — c h a i r taken by m e — d i s c u s s judiciary and o b j e c t i v e s . " He also noted that an organization called "National Association of M o u r n e r s was dissolved and a Nigerian Council For National Awareness was launched." 4 2 Any proscription directed against this proliferation and confusion of organizations and meetings evidently wasn't taken too seriously by either the police, the Military G o v e r n m e n t , or the participants despite the dates and activities mentioned above. As late as N o v e m b e r 14, 1977, West Africa was reporting that the police had determined that the K a n o State Council For Mutual Understanding was really a political party and therefore couldn't hold a public meeting, while the very next issue of the same m a g a z i n e carried a report that the same K a n o State Council was blessed by the Acting Military G o v e r n o r of K a n o , P. S. A d a m u as f o l l o w s , " O u r children to c o m e will identify you as the f o u n d i n g fathers if your actions are honest and successful. I understand that this is not a political m o v e ment and I urge the m e m b e r s to live up to its expectations." 4 3

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About this time, each of the former or would-be political leaders was busy caucusing and organizing similar "social groups." Waziri Ibrahim tried an organization called "National Union C o u n c i l , " ostensibly to strengthen already existing "brotherly relationships," and even succeeded in getting a number of the leading citizens to sign a document pledging open support. The government warned that political organs were forbidden and some two dozen signators quickly withdrew. Aminu's thoughts, meanwhile, were ranging freely regarding possible alliances between individuals, groups, and the general populace. At the time he said, "I respect Awo but he seems deeply involved with foreign capital and is too much a prisoner of tribalism." 4 4 And eight months later he wrote, " a m touring to awaken people and to listen to them. . . . One finds astonishing views often expressed radically, not only from the young, but the old as well . . . A real silent revolution is shaping up and it's not easy to know its size and temper. . . . The regime seems to be sincere about the handover in ' 7 9 , but there are obviously ambitious groups among the military, looking for political power." 4 5 At yet another point, after political activity was already officially condoned, he c o m m e n t e d , "Our party has frightened many people in high places. . . . We are the only mass party with a revolutionary spirit. . . . The sudden awakening of the illiterate masses, the youth and yes, even the rural w o m e n in purdah is remarkable." 4 '' Mallam Aminu's approach to the reintroduction of politics in the nation was greatly influenced by the perceptions culled from the direct contact he made with the masses while travelling throughout the country. As a result, he remained staunchly idealistic in his chosen role as their representative—perhaps too much so for practical politics, depending on one's perspective. His notion was: "Though one national party is no guarantee against governmental abuse, any new government should be judged against a single national program. If there was one national party, it should emerge and not be imposed. But if there were more than one, there must be harmonious cooperation amongst them." 4 7 Though this type of thinking might be admired and really wasn't necessarily fuzzy intellectualism, its helpfulness in the thick of the political battle was questionable. Nevertheless, he was still placing his trust in the good will of people, even including those of past proven enmity and ill-will. Aminu had been wrestling with his relations with the Kano establishment all his life. His traditional upbringing consistently intruded upon

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his better judgment and radical approach and caused him to try to work with people like Inuwa Wada and the Madaki in the interest of unity and "mutual understanding." Yet, time after time, notations regarding his distrust of these people kept cropping up. Way back in November 9, 1973 his diary notes, "From Lawan Dambazau to Inuwa Wada—when will this enmity of me end? My mind is c l e a r — n o malice against anyone—I still forgive everyone, enemy or otherwise. . . ." He never really resolved this conflict between his radicalism in politics and his traditional drive toward "northern or national unity," however that was defined. He continued to extend forgiveness and to try to live within the establishment, even with those whose orientation was invariably different from his, whether within his party or outside. M. D. Yusufu succinctly summed up Aminu's dilemma in this way: "Aminu grew up in the old tradition, and was always conscious of and working things out within the cultural context."** Perhaps a more integrated picture of these early nascent political stirrings could be found through the eyes of other participants in these events. Tanko Yakasai, an activist in and out of Aminu's political life (at times close to him, at times removed), had this to contribute: U n d e r c o v e r p o l i t i c a l a c t i v i t y in K a n o c u l m i n a t e d in t h e K a n o C o u n c i l F o r M u t u a l U n d e r s t a n d i n g . W e w e r e l i n k e d i n f o r m a l l y with a c t i v i t i e s in o t h e r c i t i e s . T h e late M a d a k i of K a n o , S h e h u A h m e d s e r v e d as c h a i r m a n , I n u w a W a d a a n d A m i n u as t w o v i c e c h a i r m e n . T h i s C o u n cil w a s a c t u a l l y f o r m e d u n d e r H a s s a n K a t s i n a , a n d c o n t i n u e d until 1 9 7 5 . I s t a r t e d a s a n o r g a n i z e r — a c t i n g s e c r e t a r y . . . . We lasted until 1978 w h e n t h e N a t i o n a l M o v e m e n t w a s f o r m e d . 4 ' '

Another who was involved then was M. Aliyu Tudun Wada, w h o later went on to b e c o m e a member of the Federal House of Assembly. He testified as follows: I w a s in t h e o p p o s i t i o n c a m p at t h e t i m e . I i s s u e d a s t a t e m e n t a g a i n s t the National C o m m i t t e e For Mutual U n d e r s t a n d i n g , for I believed that t h e s o l u t i o n to t h e p r o b l e m s in the n o r t h w o u l d not c o m e t h r o u g h w o r k i n g w i t h I n u w a W a d a , t h e M a d a k i n K a n o a n d o t h e r s like t h e m . . . .

I felt t h e y w o u l d lure A m i n u i n t o a t r e a c h e r o u s p o s i t i o n w h e r e

his f o l l o w e r s w o u l d l e a v e h i m . . . . T h o u g h I w a s i d e n t i f i e d w i t h t h e so-called " n e w b r e e d , " I broke with t h e m w h e n they thought A m i n u s h o u l d r e m a i n in t h e N a t i o n a l M o v e m e n t . 5 0

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Further light on this c o n f u s i n g organizational d e m i - m o n d e c o m e s f r o m the m o u t h of U. N . A k p a n , also deeply involved in these inner machinations: At the t i m e , we w e r e o r g a n i z i n g C o u n c i l s of M u t u a l U n d e r s t a n d i n g . T h o s e w h o a c c e p t e d A m i n u ' s l e a d e r s h i p in e a c h city and state got together. E v e n t u a l l y t h e s e g r o u p s b r o a d e n e d for the sake of unity. W h e n National M o v e m e n t started he w a s lured into participating in it. but that w a s a political m i s t a k e . S e v e n t y - f i v e percent to 9 5 percent of its leaders n e v e r really identified with A m i n u ' s p h i l o s o p h y as c h a m p i o n of the d o w n t r o d d e n / '

In a certain sense, the Constituent Constitutional Assembly served as a launching pad for the political action officially prohibited until Sept e m b e r 21, 1978. T h e local social and discussion groups represented the faint semi-covert prenatal stirrings of the political e m b r y o not to be born until that date, after the conclusion of the Constitutional Assembly, and not to reach adulthood until October 1979 on Inauguration Day. Many of the overt political f o r m a t i o n s e m e r g e d f r o m caucuses of the 203 m e m b e r s of this Constituent Assembly, w h o had been selected by the Local Gove r n m e n t C o u n c i l s , either f r o m inside or outside their own ranks, and augmented by the f o r m e r committee heads in the CDC and s o m e nominated individuals chosen by the military from selected s e g m e n t s of the society. T h e so-called Councils For Mutual Understanding and the other " s o c i a l " groups around the country easily lent themselves as a base of support for these c a u c u s e s . T h e National M o v e m e n t represented one such nucleus. T h e military had prepared for this D-Day, S e p t e m b e r 21, 1978, w h e n political activity would b e c o m e legal, first, by m a n d a t i n g the early d i s e n g a g e m e n t of all military administrators f r o m their civilian posts and, s e c o n d , by requiring the resignation of all civil servants w h o wished to contest for elective positions. A m i n u himself had long been preparing for that m o m e n t , though preparation f o r him had never meant the dangling of j o b s or contracts to gain strategic individual supporters. West Africa, after interviewing A m i n u , stated: " h e was ready to return to politics after military rule, and dismissed the call for a ban on old politicians as an idle exercise because [they] could be a rallying point. [They] could inject c o h e s i o n , hope . . . and justify their leadership by their actions, rather than ask the electorate to pledge its loyalty to them." 5 2

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Well b e f o r e the launching date f o r politics mentioned a b o v e , he c o m m e n t e d that there w a s a " c o n s p i r a c y by a northern group in the A s sembly

to c h o o s e a leader f r o m a m o n g f o u r r e c o m m e n d e d :

Shehu

S h a g a r i , S h e t t i m a A l i M o n g u n o , I y a A b u b a k a r , and A d a m u C i r o m a . I a m said to be out b e c a u s e the plan is to r e v i v e S a r d a u n a type rule, i . e . , I don't give largesses, e t c . " 5 ' T h e stage w a s set, the actors positioned to g o into action. A w o l o w o , starting f r o m his g r o u p , the C o m m i t t e e of Friends o f A w o , w a s able to c o m e up a l m o s t i m m e d i a t e l y with a highly o r g a n i z e d , well oiled party, ready to m o v e p r o m p t l y and e f f i c i e n t l y . S i m i l a r l y . Waziri Ibrahim had made a m p l e preparations with his National C l u b . A m i n u on his part w a s v i g o r o u s and p o i s e d to g o into action, ready to lead an enthusiastic coterie of y o u n g militant adherents and long-term loyalists f r o m the old NEPU e r a , g r a f t e d onto his e x t e n s i v e m a s s f o l l o w i n g , to f o r m a broad, w i d e mouthed coalition with the p o w e r f u l old traditional leaders and n e w b o u r g e o i s elite. B u t , as events w o r k e d out, he had apparently n a i v e l y g i v e n f a r too little w e i g h t to the possibility of u n y i e l d i n g resistance f r o m these latter c o n s e r v a t i v e elements toward any of the liberal, i d e o l o g i c a l c o m p r o m i s e s needed to a c h i e v e c o m m o n g o a l s . To return t o T a n k o Y a k a s a i ' s recollections of these m o m e n t o u s d a y s : T h e National M o v e m e n t started f r o m the Constituent A s s e m b l y . It w a s d e c i d e d that a meeting w o u l d be held with ten m e m b e r s selected f r o m e a c h of ten northern states. T h e K a n o L o c a l C o u n c i l w o u l d host it, but the military authorities got w i n d of it and stopped it. Instead a f e w o f us got together and d e c i d e d to select only f i v e f r o m each state, preferably Constituent A s s e m b l y m e m b e r s , to meet in L a g o s . T h e K a n o g r o u p had f o u r A s s e m b l y m e m b e r s : A m i n u , I n u w a Wada, A m i n u D a n t a t a , Dr. I. D . A h m e d , with B e l l o M a i t a m a as the f i f t h . T h e s e f i f t y f r o m the ten northern states met in L a g o s to f o r m a national party. T h e y s u b d i v i d e d into three committees: a Constitution and M a n i f e s t o c o m m i t t e e with A m i n u as c h a i r m a n , a Political C o m mittee chaired by J . S . T a r k a , and a F i n a n c e C o m m i t t e e headed by A m i n u Dantata. We had to e x p a n d to include f i v e d e l e g a t e s from each of the nine southern states. W h e n a g r o u p o f southern and northern C h r i s t i a n s , including Paul N n o n g o , J i m N w o b o d o , and S . G . Ikoku approached u s , they were rejected by Ibrahim Tahir, the secretary, w h o took it upon himself to r e f e r them to their h o m e states w h e r e f i v e d e l e g a t e s each had been c h o s e n . H e w a s e v e n t u a l l y rebuked f o r this. 5 4

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T h e recounting of this sequence of events, with its plans and protein officers, by a n u m b e r of other people w h o were involved, yielded a welter of interpretations and rationalizations of their positions. Tanko Yakasai is still c o n v i n c e d that had A m i n u remained despite these early d e v e l o p m e n t s , he would have had sufficient strength a m o n g the delegates to win out in the long run. Most of the former leadership of the NEPU in the National M o v e m e n t evidently shared his views, for they remained with the National Party of Nigeria (NPN) when A m i n u ¡eft to f o r m his o w n party. W h e n Ibrahim Tahir rejected the group of southern liberals mentioned above, and then followed it u p by failing to notify A m i n u of one very important meeting and its decisions, Tanko chalked it up as a series of misunderstandings. A m i n u , on the other hand, saw it as "truth o u t — seeming conspiracy by Tahir and c o m p a n y to hide facts. It seemed almost to be foreordained that A m i n u would part ways with the National M o v e m e n t which he had been so instrumental in initiating. Shehu S h a n o n o asserts that t h o u g h the N a t i o n a l M o v e m e n t w a s f o r m e d f r o m the m e r g e r of m a n y small social g r o u p s , m a n y of t h o s e that s u p p o r t e d A m i n u , i n c l u d i n g s o u t h e r n g r o u p s w i t h S . G . Ikoku and I m o u d u , w e r e d e n i e d seats at the c o n v e n t i o n

and told to j o i n locally, not at the t o p . A s u b -

c o m m i t t e e with A m i n u as c h a i r m a n , h a d d r a w n up a party c o n s t i t u t i o n , but this w a s c a n c e l l e d by t h e m . O b v i o u s l y A m i n u ' s l e a d e r s h i p w a s b e i n g r e j e c t e d , yet f o r the sake of unity, A m i n u w a s still willing to stay. We s p r e a d out to c o v e r all states in t w o d a y s a n d r e t u r n e d to tell him that the m a s s e s really w a n t e d h i m to lead a party, and that the t o p NPN p e o p l e d i d n ' t w a n t the m a s s e s . H e just c o u l d n ' t c o m p r o m i s e his p r i n c i p l e s . C i r c u m s t a n c e s w e r e f o r c i n g A m i n u ' s h a n d . 5 6

Many of the large group of "progressives" that ended u p leaving the National M o v e m e n t with A m i n u were pushing for such a party, independ e n t of the conservative northern elements, right f r o m the start. Each of t h e m was reacting to this political realignment f r o m his own viewpoint. T h e r e was the K a n o group of old-time NEPUites, largely functional illitera t e s in English, w h o regarded A m i n u and any n e w political alignment he w o u l d lead in the S e c o n d Republic with a parochial eye. Because of their limitations, they felt they would be pushed aside if the new politics b r o u g h t Aminu to the national scene, where he would work with broad e l e m e n t s , all of w h o m w o u l d be playing political roles. T h e y didn't see

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t h e m s e l v e s as a d e q u a t e to the tasks of national g o v e r n m e n t , and if A m i n u , u n d e r w h o s e m a n t l e they h a d to o p e r a t e , were r e m o v e d f r o m the local state s c e n e , they w o u l d be inundated by the younger, more e d u c a t e d e l e m e n t s . T h e y p r e f e r r e d to c o n s o l i d a t e a n e w party around A m i n u ' s strongest b a s e , in K a n o State, w h e r e c h a n c e s f o r victory were greatest and w h e r e a role for t h e m was most likely to be available. T h e n there w a s a g r o u p of y o u n g a c a d e m i c s w h o had been w o r k i n g closely with A m i n u over the p r e v i o u s pre-political years and had a d e g r e e of i n f l u e n c e u p o n h i m . "A f e w of us, including Drs. D a n d a t i Abdulkadir, M . T. L i m a n , A h m a d u J a l i n g o and A m i n Yusuf, M o h a m m e d A b u b a k a r Rimi and m y s e l f , had been m e e t i n g in the h o m e of Dr. A h m a d u J a l i n g o , d i s c u s s i n g political o p t i o n s , including . . . what to d o if National M o v e m e n t c a m e u p with a p r o g r a m we couldn't a c c e p t . We urged A m i n u to d r o p out of the National M o v e m e n t . Ultimately we g a v e birth to the People's R e d e m p t i o n Party [ P R P ] , " " said S h e h u S h a n o n o . Ideologically m o r e to the left, they felt that incorporating A m i n u ' s strength and following with that of the c o n s e r v a t i v e e l e m e n t s of the North w o u l d vitiate A m i n u ' s ideological orientation as well as their o w n , and of c o u r s e their personal i n f l u e n c e along with it. T h e g r o u p of p r o g r e s s i v e s f r o m the South w h o w e r e i d e n t i f y i n g with A m i n u by this t i m e w e r e similarly situated s o m e w h e r e left of center on the political s p e c t r u m . T h e y saw their political ideas getting swall o w e d u p in such alliances as were implicit in any unity m o v e m e n t as broad as w a s the National M o v e m e n t , with the dissipation of their o w n personal political position as well. R e i n f o r c e m e n t of this f e a r c a m e when they w e r e actually rejected by the o r g a n i z e r s of this so-called unity m o v e m e n t . H o w e v e r , unlike the parochial K a n o g r o u p noted a b o v e , they required a national c a n v a s on w h i c h to f u n c t i o n . Dr. A h m a d u J a l i n g o of G o n g o l a State reported that: 1 w a s f u r i o u s w h e n I h e a r d that the N a t i o n a l M o v e m e n t had c h o s e n M a k a m a n B i d a p r o - t e m c h a i r m a n , and n o w h e r e w a s A m i n u ' s n a m e m e n t i o n e d . W h e n t h e y finally did (as p u b l i c i t y s e c r e t a r y ) he of c o u r s e t u r n e d it d o w n . I told A m i n u that I w a s n ' t p r e p a r e d to g o with the n a m e s that h a d e m e r g e d , since to m e that w o u l d m e a n a victory f o r the c o n s e r v a t i v e s a n d if he w a s intent u p o n g o i n g d o w n that p a t h , it m e a n t a p a r t i n g of the w a y s f o r us. . . . A s I r e c a l l e d , A m i n u had told m e long a g o that unity in N i g e r i a and the north w a s e s s e n t i a l and that an a c c e p t a b l e p r o g r a m , m o r e

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democratic and less dependent on the traditional leaders would keep the leaders in line in a new-born party. I think that he really believed this. He had felt that with more enlightenment would c o m e more enlightened leaders. . . . " Dr. J a l i n g o a d d e d that w h e n h e p a s s e d t h r o u g h B a u c h i o n t h e w a y to t a l k s w i t h M a l l a m A m i n u in K a n o , h e w a s s h e l t e r e d b y o n e H a s s a n , w h o h a d w o r k e d v e r y c l o s e l y w i t h A m i n u e v e r s i n c e h i s t e a c h i n g d a y s in t h e I 9 4 0 ' s w i t h S a ' a d u Z u n g u r . H a s s a n t o l d Dr. J a l i n g o : " I k n o w y o u ' v e b e e n c l o s e with M a l l a m , so get this straight. If you p e o p l e g o a l o n g with the

ancit . régime,

we will not g o with y o u . W e will j o i n A w o . . . . U n d e r n o

c i r c u m s t a n c e s will we have anything to do with the f o r m e r NPC m e n . " W h e n Dr. J a l i n g o t o l d t h i s to A m i n u h e o n l y s m i l e d . " At t h i s p o i n t in t i m e , A m i n u w a s d e l u g e d w i t h d e l e g a t i o n s a n d i n d i v i d u a l s f r o m all p a r t s o f t h e n a t i o n , u r g i n g h i m to d e c i d e o n e w a y o r the o t h e r . In the m i d s t o f t h i s t u g g i n g to a n d f r o , A m i n u h a d w h a t w a s p r o b a b l y a m o n g the t o u g h e s t o f h i s m a n y t o u g h t i m e s . W i t h h i s o l d f r i e n d s a m o n g t h e m o r e c o n s e r v a t i v e e l e m e n t s p u s h i n g f o r h i m to r e m a i n to f i g h t it o u t a n d e x e r t h i s u n q u e s t i o n e d i n f l u e n c e t o w a r d a m o r e l i b e r a l s t a n c e in a unified National M o v e m e n t and with the large group o f activés a m o n g t h e y o u t h , w o m e n , a n d i n t e l l e c t u a l s in b o t h t h e n o r t h a n d s o u t h p u s h i n g h i m to e s t a b l i s h an i n d e p e n d e n t political m o v e m e n t o f the left f o r the m a s s e s to r a l l y a r o u n d , h e h a d c o m e t o t h e m o m e n t o f t r u t h . T h i s s t r a n g e c o n f l i c t that h a d b e d e v i l e d h i m all h i s a d u l t l i f e w a s c o m i n g h o m e t o r o o s t a n d j u s t h a d to b e r e s o l v e d . H e w a n t e d to l e a d t h e n a t i o n , w i t h the s u p p o r t o f t h e a c t i v e t r a d i t i o n a l e s t a b l i s h m e n t , b u t n o t until h e h a d b r o u g h t t h e m a r o u n d to h i s d e m o c r a t i c p r e c e p t s o f s o c i a l a n d e c o n o m i c j u s t i c e f o r t h e m a s s e s . T h e y h a d n e v e r y i e l d e d o n e i n c h , y e t h e n e v e r s e e m e d to g i v e u p t r y i n g . A n d in the m i d s t o f s u c h t r e m e n d o u s p r e s s u r e s , h e w a s s t r i c k e n v e r y s e r i o u s l y ill. H i s d i a r y e n t r i e s at that p o i n t s a d l y r e a d : June 9, 1978

D a y o f brooding about life and future for N i g e r i a . I

pray

for a long life in a healthy body and an opportunity to put my philosophy to work, ( a u t h o r ' s i t a l i c s ) J u n e 12

In K a n o . . . S e r i o u s l y ill w i t h p a i n s in a r m s a n d l e g s —

July 29

Serious m a l a r i a — i n bed for t w o days.

unconscious for two days—ill for eight days. August 4

Shatu

reports

that

I

was

unconscious

d a y s . . . . T i m e to b e g i n t h i n k i n g a b o u t a w i l l .

for

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298 A u g u s t 2 0 , 21

M y sight really getting darker. . . . C o u l d n ' t fast bec a u s e of illness.

September 24

R e c o n c i l i a t i o n m e e t i n g a r r a n g e d by A m i n u D a n t a t a .

S e p t e m b e r 25

S e r i o u s l y ill. . . . At last d o c t o r c a m e . . . . Real attack of m y usual f e v e r . . . H a d to r e m a i n in bed f o r seven days through Oct. I

October 1

D e l e g a t i o n of senior m e r c h a n t s to a p p e a l to m e not to b r e a k away.

October2

D e c i d e to f o r m my o w n p a r t y — I n f o r m all. . . . G i v e T a n k o f r e e d o m to g o his o w n way.

O c t o b e r 21

PRP l a u n c h e d at K a d u n a at largest raily ever.

October 23

A n o t h e r attack of the s a m e d i s e a s e . . . . In bed all day.

October 24

I m p o s s i b l e to fly to L a g o s to launch PRP. . . . In b e d .

O c t o b e r 26

First time out of b e d to m e e t p u b l i c .

His p h y s i c a l i n c a p a c i t y n o t w i t h s t a n d i n g , o n c e his decision was m a d e to g o a h e a d with the f o r m a t i o n of a n e w party, A m i n u w a s c o m pletely s w a l l o w e d u p by the e x c i t e m e n t of the c a m p a i g n , starting with the m a m m o t h K a d u n a O c t o b e r 21 rally l a u n c h i n g the PRP. p e r h a p s the largest such political rally e v e r held in N i g e r i a — r e p o r t e d l y o v e r one-half million p e o p l e . T h i s w a s f o l l o w e d by national t o u r s , visiting d e l e g a t i o n s , c o n v e n t i o n s , and m e e t i n g s , but i n t e r s p e r s e d in it all w e r e trips to L o n d o n to try to r e s o l v e his health p r o b l e m s . S o m e h o w , e a c h t i m e h e a r o s e f r o m his sick bed to return to the political w a r s , w i t h a m p l e r e a s s u r a n c e s f r o m his d o c t o r s that he w a s well e n o u g h , h e w o u l d f i n d h i m s e l f p l a g u e d o n c e a g a i n with e x t e n d e d f a i n t i n g spells, w e a k n e s s , a n d a c h e s and p a i n s t h r o u g h o u t his body. H e w a s freq u e n t l y s u b j e c t e d to p a i n f u l i n j e c t i o n s a n d w o u l d h a v e to return to Lond o n f o r a d d i t i o n a l tests. I n d i c a t i v e of w h a t h e w a s g o i n g t h r o u g h , was this f r o m Dr. U s m a n H a s s a n : One morning Aminu fell seriously ill . . . groaning, etc. . . . When called by Hamza [Aminu's driver], i rushed to the hospital with a doctor. Aminu was suffering from a severe headache and was holding his head, crying "Oh dear, oh dear!" The doctor said he shouldn't be disturbed by anyone. Yet there were a thousand people in his house, talking and complaining, including many villagers. Dandati, Salihi and I spoke to them and opened a complaint file. . . . Three days later Aminu felt a little better and was flown abroad for treatment. 5 9

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T h o s e closest to M a l l a m A m i n u reported that he seemed to be able to carry on quite well in between his sick spells, but s o m e felt that his function was sorely impaired: he w a s listless at times, permitted others to do that which he had always done himself ( e . g . , writing letters for h i m , which he would then check only cursorily), and d i s e n g a g e d himself for periods of time, getting involved only when the situation forced h i m to d o so. A great deal of his support in the National M o v e m e n t proved to be soft. M a n y of the aspiring politicians had supported A m i n u because they sensed the inspiring role he could play on the national stage with his austere moral and material way of life. They knew that they could have infinite c o n f i d e n c e in h i m . Many of t h e m , particularly the southerners, believed that the w h o l e north would turn to A m i n u almost as an automatic choice, what with the old NPC leaders (Sardauna, Tafawa Balewa, etc.) no longer on the scene. But when A m i n u bolted, they felt that the odds had shifted to the NPN and that dictated that they identify with a more likely winner. Ideology and dedication took second place in these cases, rendering this political support extremely thin. W h e n polled, people in all parts of the country, f o l l o w i n g o n e political leader or another, would invariably speak of their high regard for A m i n u , but would unhesitatingly add that they couldn't support him because his party had no money and wasn't likely to win. This lack of a d e q u a t e financing plagued A m i n u and his political m o v e m e n t throughout his lifetime. It was quite evident to his opponents but m u c h more so to his supporters. His personal notations indicate a persistent concern with this p r o b l e m , m e n t i o n i n g d o n a t i o n s , large and small, their disposition for vehicles, printed materials, and so on. H e never stopped worrying about where the next naira was c o m i n g f r o m and was constantly aware that the f u n c t i o n i n g of his party was terribly h a m p e r e d by its inadequate f u n d i n g . T h i s , while the other parties quickly accumulated all kinds of financing to float t h e m d o w n the political c a m p a i g n trail. To make matters w o r s e , A m i n u was convinced that the money supposed to be allotted f r o m g o v e r n m e n t f u n d s to the parties f o r c a m p a i g n p u r p o s e s was deliberately delayed until the last m i n u t e , when it was already too late for the PRP to utilize it to spread the party gospel. In a letter to the author of J u n e 8, 1979, he said: " T h e electoral c o m m i t t e e doesn't seem to be a u t o n o m o u s . S o m e of the administrative measures are really

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stumbling blocks but the main problem is f i n a n c e . " And his diary entry of July 9, 1979 added: " S e n d Musa Musawa and Junaidu to Lagos to collect party check f r o m [Federal Electoral C o m m i s s i o n ] , . . . Their arrangements were even c o n d e m n e d by NPN." (This was already after the election to the State A s s e m b l i e s had taken place in the first of the series of five elections, scheduled one week apart.) O v e r the years of the First and Second Republics in Nigeria, one of the perplexing d e v e l o p m e n t s was the lack of well-defined fiscal boundaries between g o v e r n m e n t , party, and personal f u n d s . This arrangement made the stakes in winning elections very, very high indeed, for the victor could readily tap public f u n d s and perpetuate his incumbency. These loose boundaries seemed to work in reverse in the practically ascetic A m i n u ' s case. Every naira that passed through his hands almost immediately found its way into some social or political use. To the point where as far back as S e p t e m b e r 10, 1973 his diary notes: "Forced to borrow-N- f r o m bank for S a l l a h . " Money donated by friends for his personal use was quickly translated into helping other hard-pressed individuals obtain a bag of rice or clothes, or even in s o m e instances to pay off their urgent debts. O f t e n , it went for much needed party vehicles to traverse the roads to more remote areas. In s o m e relatively rare instances when larger a m o u n t s were privately offered for party use in return for a quid pro quo, either specific or implied, they found a suspicious A m i n u guarding his scruples and ideals much more closely than the party treasury. More than one potential supporter was discouraged by this lack of cooperation and the party continued to s u f f e r the near-fatal disease of financial malnutrition. He was considered "unrealistic" for this approach and the party f u n d s were everlastingly low. Yet, his appeal to the masses was such that in spite of these limitations on PRP'S ability to spread its gospel and in spite of its many other problems, it was able to amass a large popular vote (10.28 percent). Most of it however was in K a n o and abutting states where A m i n u ' s charisma could simply spread contiguously through personal contact with the m a s s e s . These financial difficulties for A m i n u and his party continued right through the 1979 elections, but were joined by many other related problems which kept cropping up to h a m p e r their functioning. T h e c a m p a i g n year (September 1978-August 1979) started explosively with s o m e t h i n g approaching total e n g a g e m e n t . M a n y political

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groups came to the fore as potential parties and many individuals as potential candidates. Some were straightforward about their intentions; others presented themselves publicly as a force with an independent constituency in order to gain influence in some merger or other. The bulk of them, including would-be gubernatorial candidates, were recognizable figures from Nigeria's political past. The Daily Times listed ten names of potential presidential aspirants, ranging from left to right, with Aminu at the left end of the political spectrum. The parties which emerged, however, were quite ill-defined ideologically. All five parties that were eventually recognized as fulfilling the prerequisites set down by the Federal Electoral Commission (Fedeco) had relatively progressive programs with four of them identifying vaguely as socialist. But it quickly became clear that the People's Redemption Party, Aminu's newly formed party, stood apart from the others as the popular representative of the masses. What actually defined this position was less the PRP platform, program, and public statements, than Aminu's towering figure and his Gandhi-like reputation as a man dedicated to the masses. The entire party was built around him and his mass following in the North, with intellectuals from all parts of the nation joining either because they felt they could comfortably associate themselves ideologically with Aminu or because their reputations and expressed ideologic differences froze them out of the other political combinations in formation. What happened after the shake-down and consolidation of the five parties was yet another matter. Reassessment of political positions had resulted in a split in one party (the G N P P split off from the Nigerian People's Party) and a merging of a number of smaller political units into the accepted parties. Among those groups attracted to the PRP were the Vanguard Movement for Nigerian Workers and Peasants led by Michael Imoudu, an old time and respected trade union leader; an organization named Socialist Party of Workers, Farmers, and Youths led by Ola Oni and Sidi Ali Sirajo; plus about ten other small groupings. Unfortunately, as the campaign developed, each of the five candidates for the presidency became widely identified as representing a particular section of the country, rather than as an ideological leader of left, right, or center, the very thing that the new, meticulously drawn constitution was meant to avoid. "There is not much difference between party programs. . . . The real difference is in the people who make up the

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party. . . . T h e election will therefore be won or lost on ethnic or personality grounds."'* 1 Although A m i n u ' s reputation and past role were clearly not cast in any such ethnic m o l d , his greatest strength and chances for victory were centered around Kano and contiguous states. This localization of political strength was equally true of the other four candidates, but with three of the five presidential nominees c o m i n g f r o m the North, there had to be s o m e overlapping and consequently a reaching out for reasons other than place of origin for a national leader. A m i n u and the rest of the PRP leaders viewed this break-up of the North as a golden opportunity, but their disastrously e m p t y coffers prevented them f r o m reaching into the nether regions of the nation for the broad support needed in a national election. With transportation and communications at so low a level, the villages unfortunately had to be neglected by ill-financed party stalwarts trying to make their mark in areas that k n e w little about Aminu and his lifelong championing of the cause of the m a s s e s . He could only conduct two or three national campaign tours and even those were severely limited by lack of funds and his ill-health. As a result of all this, he and his party hardly penetrated the xenophobia that dominated the political thinking of the masses in the south over the years. This was even true of the economically deprived northerners in s o m e remote areas w h o were reluctant to trust their fate to a Nigerian w h o wasn't one of their own ethnic origin or f r o m their local region—particularly when one of their o w n , far better known to t h e m , was running f o r the same o f f i c e . "With the second round of politics A m i n u was most popular in Bauchi and Kaduna (as well as in Kano. . . . ) Probably more than 50 percent. . . . Sokoto and Borno less—also in the Hausa communities in Kwara and all over. . . . Beyond that surprisingly, the Ibos wanted Ibo leaders—likewise Yorubas. Minority groups outside the North didn't consider him a force. They wanted a winner," said Brigadier Abbas Wali. 61 With this background of ethnic polarization it was easy for A m i n u ' s southern o p p o n e n t s to capitalize on his stand on the Sharia issue during the Constitutional Assembly sessions. T h o u g h he didn't lead that fight for an independent Sharia Appeals Court, he did clearly identify with the united M o s l e m forces. It was an easy step from that to influence his nonM u s l i m southern admirers against h i m , by branding him as one w h o supported a special status for Islam. In this way he could be cast in the same

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mold as the northern traditionalists and conservatives who had ruled so prejudicially in the First Republic. With Nnamdi Azikiwe (Zik), the Ibo former president of the nation, and Obafemi Awolowo (Awo), the so-called Leader of the Yorubas, heading their own parties as presidential candidates, the attempt to avoid a return to regional divisions was quickly forgotten and the old ethnic overtones of the First Republic emerged. Each of these two southern candidates, looking for northern support, pressed Aminu hard to accept the vice-presidential spot under him, but of course never considered joining Aminu's party as second to him. In a letter to the editor in West Africa, a Mr. U. Ilozeu wrote, "If . . . Aminu brought his PRP into the NPP SO that he could pair with Zik for the presidential race it would save the country from the snare of tribal politics . . . in the current arrangement [of] NPP, PRP, and UPN. . . (UPN is the United Party of Nigeria.) Aminu himself wrote at the time: "Further bilateral talks with NPP—Hardly any prospects for merger. Zik still wants me as second—Foolish to think that." 6 1 So the problems multiplied as the months went by. No one had seriously questioned the desire of the military to turn over control to civilians as promised, but there were many questions of favoritism in the process. Their decisions and those of the administrators appointed by them to supervise the elections came in for sharp criticism from those who saw themselves as victims of prejudicial rulings. When Fedeco delayed the disbursement of the 50 percent of the electoral funds allocated for equal distribution to each of the five parties because they considered i t " r i s k y to make early d i s b u r s e m e n t s , " w it reinforced their cynical questioning of these administrative fiats. The military may or may not have favored a particular party; but, whether or not Aminu's call for accountability of the Military Government influenced their decisions, his party was constantly battling against the unfavorable and unreasonable regulations of surly police officials and other administrators. "Ban of flags and symbols by some state governm e n t s . . . is tantamount to banning new political parties," 6 5 and "NPN resorts to violence against PRP men—handle carefully—avoid repercussions." 6 6 Aminu and the PRP actually had to resort to court action before their supporters were able to fly party flags and otherwise identify themselves publicly. Other breaches of the law by the police themselves were not un-

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c o m m o n : Tear-gas was used to break up a PRP rally in Borno (June 17) and PRP supporters were unjustly arrested in Hadejia (June 18). Perhaps the worst e x a m p l e of such abuse took place in K a n o itself on June 23, w h e n the ubiquitous crowds in and around A m i n u ' s residence were "suddenly tear-gassed, doors s m a s h e d , w i n d o w s and chairs broken—real vandal i s m , " followed on the next day by "tear gassing throughout Kano, looting shops until 2:00 A.M., robbing people, f o u r killed, others injured. . . . Police C o m m i s s i o n e r caught meeting secretly with NPN leaders."'' 7 T h e PRP leadership pointed out to the Military G o v e r n m e n t that the Constitution Drafting C o m m i t t e e had stated that if the presidential candidate with the highest vote didn't get 25 percent of the vote in two-thirds of the states, a second popular election should be held, matching only the top t w o candidates. It was only if the second election didn't yield a winner that an electoral college consisting of the newly elected legislators in state and federal legislatures would be called upon to make the choice. Neither the seventeen a m e n d m e n t s to the constitution issued by the Federal Military G o v e r n m e n t on September 21. 1978. nor the Constituent Constitutional Assembly had c h a n g e d this r e c o m m e n d a t i o n , yet the obviously mistaken elimination in the final printing of the constitution of the second popular e l e c t i o n — j u m p i n g directly to the electoral college if the first ballot didn't yield a w i n n e r — w a s upheld by the Supreme Military C o m m a n d . T h e dire prediction of Aminu and the PRP leadership that there would be trouble if this wasn't corrected proved to be well-founded when the presidential election of 1979 eventually took place and the nation had to resort to far-fetched interpretations to avoid the electoral college option. As if all these c a m p a i g n problems were not e n o u g h , early in April they were further c o m p o u n d e d when N n a m d i Azikiwe and Aminu K a n o were denied the security coverage granted by Fedeco to the three other candidates, implying clearly that these two might be disqualified on the basis of non-payment of taxes. T h o u g h Zik hired a battery of lawyers and was able to prove to a court that his tax p a y m e n t s over the years were in order, the question of A m i n u ' s tax liability hung over his head right up to the last m o m e n t before the election. In the absence of any income A m i n u had not paid any tax. "If Aminu Kano didn't pay income taxes it was only because there never was an i n c o m e , " said U c h e C h u k w u m e r i j e , the PRP National Publicity Secretary. "If Chief Ani [Chair of Fedeco] can't show any i n c o m e , he should climb down f r o m his pedestal to allow the law

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courts to clarify the issue." hK Calling up such a technicality in Aminu's case was the height of absurdity for anyone who knew how the Mallam lived, but millions of Nigerians did not know how he lived and were ready to accept his disqualification if so ruled by Fedeco. Anticipating the deletion of Aminu's name from the ballot, many of them turned to other parties with their votes. One newspaper put it this way: "[PRP] party leaders . . . believe that Alhaji Aminu Kano has a much better record than those who see tax payments as a test of uprightness and honesty. . . . A n d , "Accusing fingers [are] being pointed at Fedeco, which the PRP now believes is in the p o c k e t of t h e NPN a n d U P N . " 6 "

While Aminu's diary indicates that he was never greatly discouraged, a good deal of his limited campaign time did have to be devoted to clearing up this issue. His diary notes: April 20

Directorate meeting regarding my candidacy. All agree that conspiracy exists against us and the only response is political action.

June 4

At last my clearance certification issued by Kano Revenue Commission. Disqualification by Fedeco unjustly on tax grounds will produce unexpected results against the agents of injustice. Busy with court matters and candidature.

June 25 July 4

Finally, on Wednesday, August 1, less than twenty-four hours before the deadline for filing nomination papers and just ten days before the presidential election itself, the Kano High Court held that: "The national leader of the PRP, Alhaji Aminu Kano is not a tax defaulter. . . . Justice Rowland ruled that he believed the testimony of the Kano State Commissioner For Revenue, Alhaji M. Bature, and therefore Aminu Kano paid his taxes when demanded. It is crystal clear that the plaintiff's only source of income was his CDC allowance. . . ." The very same day, Aminu hurriedly boarded a flight to Lagos to file his nomination application, arriving within minutes of the deadline set by Fedeco for closure. "Beaming with smiles and waving to journalists, . . . Alhaji Aminu yelled, 'I made it!' as he entered the Fedeco office." 7 0 With all these obstacles facing Aminu and his party as the election neared, the other candidates never considered them a serious threat na-

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tionally. But all his rivals k n e w a n d w e r e c o n c e r n e d with A m i n u ' s prestige in K a n o and K a d u n a S t a t e s . H e c o u l d very well wield the s w i n g vote. A s a c o n s e q u e n c e , the p r e s s u r e for A m i n u to j o i n f o r c e s with the other three parties in order to k e e p the NPN f r o m g a i n i n g p o w e r w a s almost c o n stant. Earlier a p p r o a c h e s took the f o r m of pleas for h i m to accept the vicepresidential n o m i n a t i o n o f f e r e d h i m to run with A w o o r Z i k . But A m i n u ' s position w a s to hold fast. " S t a n d on o w n t w o feet and not m e d d l e in opportunistic b l o c k s " r e a d s his diary of July 2 4 , 1979. A l t h o u g h A m i n u ' s l i f e - l o n g distrust of A w o led him to reject out of h a n d any o v e r t u r e s f r o m that direction (both b e f o r e and a f t e r the first of the f i v e e l e c t i o n s ) , he did listen to Z i k ' s pleas and e v e n presented his prop o s a l s to j o i n f o r c e s with h i m to the PRP N a t i o n a l D i r e c t o r a t e . A j o i n t s t a t e m e n t by Z i k and A m i n u on July 7 " a g r e e d to e x p l o r e t o g e t h e r with any parties w h i c h share s i m i l a r p h i l o s o p h y and b e l i e f s . . . . H o w e v e r , there w a s n o accord i m p l i e d b e t w e e n t h e m . . . " 7 I T h e s a m e m e e t i n g w a s r e p o r t e d e l s e w h e r e as f o l l o w s : " T h e t w o l e a d e r s [Zik and A m i n u ] are . . . c o n c e r n e d that N i g e r i a n politics s h o u l d not be played on t h e basis of p o w e r at all c o s t s . " 7 " " O n Friday, C h i e f A w o l o w o and A l h a j i Waziri I b r a h i m , t o r c h b e a r e r s of the UPN and G N P P respectively, waited f o r b o t h Dr. A z i k i w e and A l h a j i A m i n u f o r the f o u r party c o o p e r a t i o n talks to take o f f , " reported The Punch of July 3 0 ( p g . 1) and a d d e d , " B u t w h e n Dr. A z i k i w e r e t u r n e d f r o m K a n o , there w a s no trace of A l h a j i A m i n u . " In e f f e c t the j o i n t s t a t e m e n t really did little m o r e than rule out b l a n k e t c o o p e r a t i o n to elect A w o l o w o and d e f e a t t h e NPN. T h e

Sunday

Sun of A u g u s t 12 (pg. 2) s u m m e d u p these e f f o r t s to w o o A m i n u to a fourparty a l l i a n c e against S h a g a r i w h e n it c a p t i o n e d an article d e s c r i b i n g the very last d a y s prior to the e l e c t i o n , " P a r t y C h i e f s S t o r m K a n o : they w a n t to talk A m i n u K a n o into a l l i a n c e . " M a l l a m A m i n u ' s attitude t o w a r d a l l i a n c e w i t h o t h e r parties held fast d e s p i t e t h e intra- and e x t r a - p a r t y p r e s s u r e s a n d c o u n t e r p r e s s u r e s that s u r g e d b a c k and forth d u r i n g t h e m o n t h s p r e c e d i n g and i m m e d i a t e l y foll o w i n g the e l e c t i o n . H e stated it r e t r o s p e c t i v e l y in this way: "I don't like a l l i a n c e s — t h e trouble w i t h t h e s e a l i g n m e n t s is that they q u i c k l y lead to c o m p r o m i s e . A party like o u r s s h o u l d h a v e its o w n stand on issues. We w o u l d rather c o n t i n u e a l o n e on o u r o w n f e e t , n o m a t t e r h o w long it takes us to a c h i e v e o u r g o a l . " 7 3 T h i s strategic d e s i r e to o r g a n i z e politically a r o u n d a s p e c i f i c ideology, t o g e t h e r with his n e e d to m a i n t a i n it in u n d i l u t e d f o r m , ran t h r o u g h A m i n u ' s political life. N o t that h e didn't w a n t to w o r k with t h o s e w h o

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didn't agree with him completely, but that he would cooperate only if he was able to maintain the purity of his own principles. Organizational alliances or groupings for opportunistic reasons were anathema to him and, in each of the many instances he was approached, it was for just those reasons. Whether it was by the old Action Group or the NCNC of the First Republic or any of the other four parties of the Second Republic, no programmatic concessions were offered, only power combinations for purposes of holding office. Aminu was never ready to make that type of compromise just for the sake of electoral victory. Thus, his efforts were geared primarily toward winning support for his ideas and secondarily toward winning elections. During the period immediately following the first election (for the House of Representatives), when it became clear that NPN was leading the pack, the pressure on Aminu intensified. His insistence that the PRP not join the other three parties merely to destroy NPN control subsequently led to a disastrous split in his own party, but substituting one corrupt alliance for another, even though his party could have a prominent role in it, was just not acceptable to him. His diary notes concerning this read: July 15, 1979

July 16 August 3

More delegations from NPP, UPN and GNPP—handle carefully re publicity. We have already made a distinct entity and any efforts to reconcile must be carefully rejected. Alliances must be carefully handled as PRP might be polluted and lose its radical identity (author's italics). Party prestige high due to neutrality on alliances.

The August 5 issue of the Sun-Times quotes Aminu as saying, "What we have is an attempt to bring pressure on us to move not at our pace but at that of the other parties." On August 12 the Sunday Sun wrote, "Zik, Awo, Enahoro all fly to Kano to try [to talk Aminu into alliance], but an inside source said that Alhaji Aminu had been resisting overtures for a political gang-up." When newspapers sprouted headlines stating that PRP would stand together with three other parties to vote for Awolowo of UPN, Aminu wrote that it was "the height of fraudulence," and that the "UPN, NPP, and GNPP meet to talk of hollow alliance—PRP considers this out of way." 74 As a result of his stubborn resistance to these pressures from the socalled "Progressives," he was accused of favoring the NPN or even planning an NPN-PRP merger. There were forces within the PRP that favored

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such moves, but Aminu stood firmly for maintaining his freedom of movement. He pushed for yea votes on issues he felt were right for the nation and opposed those that were not, regardless of party sponsorship. He was ready to ally with others on issues, but was never ready to relinquish the political independence he had nurtured all his life. In spite of his keen desire to maintain the unity of the North and to work within the traditional f r a m e w o r k , it was this crushing need to stick by an independent program favoring the masses that caused him to leave the National Movement when it became clear that the supporters of just such a program were being turned away from the newly forming NPN. The final obstacle Aminu's candidacy had to face was conduct of the election itself. It became clear to the nation immediately after the first of the five elections was held that rigging and administrative irregularities were rampant throughout most of the country. Aminu's diary notations at the time read: "Eve of elections and still don't know location of polling booths. . . . Booths still non-existent! . . . Election day—helterskelter—voters wait until 2:00 PM for polls to open! . . . No ink, tables or voting officers in some a r e a s . " " How much of these irregularities were premeditated and how much sheer incompetence or inexperience was never really resolved, but Aikhen Uduehi, a columnist for The Punch, on August 8, 1979 summed it up with: " N o doubt, it must be conceded that the PRP has taken the worst of the beating from e v e r y b o d y — n o money and the wahala of presidential candidacy with Fedeco. The PRP has obviously fought a tougher battle than all the rest. . . ." But when put in perspective all of these election day irregularities weren't that important, for the bulk of the d a m a g e to Aminu's candidacy had already been done during the pre-election period. The financial constraints, the technical road blocks, the police irregularities, and, worst of all, the d a m a g e done to his campaign by Fedeco's action in ruling him off the ballot until it was reversed by the court at the last moment, had prevented Aminu from spreading his campaign into potentially fruitful areas and had restricted it to the two states of his obvious strength. Kano State so overwhelmingly supported Aminu that rigging there was restricted mostly to legal maneuvers to try to rule his PRP candidates off the ballot. There were some districts where the NPN candidate won unopposed through this tactic, while the PRP actually gained a majority of

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the ballots cast even without a candidate! However, Kaduna which was not so overwhelmingly pro-Aminu was subjected to extensive ballot stuffing and rigging (as was true elsewhere in the nation), causing some distortion of the vote and loss of certain seats for PRP. In one instance it was reported that in one district more votes were counted than there were voters on the registration rolls! Nevertheless, Aminu and his party were under no delusions that they could win the national election. They had been positioning themselves to wield m a x i m u m impact, while preparing for the future which they felt was theirs. The unexpected and much disputed decision of Fedeco giving Shehu Shagari the presidency on the first ballot was challenged in press statements by the PRP, but not too seriously. Fedeco's convoluted reasoning held that "the 25 percent of the vote in at least twothirds of the states" required by the constitution was fulfilled, even though Kano—the thirteenth of the nineteen states—y ielded less than 20 percent for Shagari. Although S. G. Ikoku, Aminu's vice-presidential running mate, stated that this decision was "a murder of democracy," and "outrageous," 7 '' Aminu's diary entry for August 16. 1979 states: "Shagari declared winner. He got the votes from minority areas with a plurality in seven states." The alternative electoral college that might have been invoked was feared by the PRP, as well as by many others in the nation, as being considerably less democratic than the popular direct vote, which explained the PRP'S earlier challenge to this portion of the electoral decree. The NPN candidate, Shehu Shagari, had gotten a clear national plurality, won in seven states, and garnered 25 percent in twelve states, while the runnerup, Chief Awolowo and his UPN, had won in only five states and had gotten 25 percent in only one other (Kwara). For numbers and spread, Shagari was well ahead and the nation apparently preferred to accept him as winner rather than invoke the electoral college of all the newly elected state and national legislators. This latter group, it was feared, would be highly susceptible to "money politics," and the vote of no other candidate had come near that of Shehu Shagari.

-15The Civilians' Second Try A l t h o u g h A m i n u ' s story during the next f o u r years is not s y n o n y m o u s with the history of the PRP, by the t i m e 1979 rolled a r o u n d , lie and his party had b e c o m e so inextricably e n t w i n e d as to be inseparable. With the spinning of this w e b , A m i n u ' s stance gradually c a m e m o r e sharply into f o c u s , his c o u r s e tied directly into the PRP. and he b e c a m e clearly identified as a direct c o m b a t a n t . His past c h a m p i o n i n g of national i n d e p e n d e n c e and unity throughout the military era as well as his NKPU y e a r s had left him a cut above the political battles. But in the context of the 1979 elections and thereafter w h e n he called f o r national unity, it was interpreted more as an appeal to k e e p the national ship afloat and less as a struggle for i n d e p e n d e n c e . In the n a m e of unity, the people and their leaders should not permit partisan politics to create an i m p a s s e , nor should they permit the g o v e r n m e n t to f o u n d e r on the rocks of corruption a n d g r e e d . In light of his close identification with the PRP during the period of the S e c o n d R e p u b l i c , w h e n m a n y in his party were b e h a v i n g no d i f f e r ently than the politicians in other parties, A m i n u could n o l o n g e r k e e p his h e a d above the fray as a s e m i - p a r t i s a n . Yet despite these associations his reputation as an individual r e m a i n e d u n t a r n i s h e d . A l t h o u g h his long dedication to political activism c o n t i n u e d to involve h i m in the p o w e r struggle at o n e level or another, he had a l w a y s been at his best while in o p p o s i t i o n , or d u r i n g transitional p e r i o d s w h e n he wasn't b u r d e n e d with the d e a d e n i n g e f f e c t of day to day administration a n d the c o m p r o m i s e s forced upon o n e in power. S u b c o n s c i o u s l y he s e e m e d to ferret out situations w h e r e he w o u l d be in o p p o s i t i o n ; w h e r e his principles w o u l d not be c o m p r o m i s e d , and m a n e u v e r i n g and w a t e r i n g t h e m d o w n w o u l d not be necessary. T h i s quality was r e c o g n i z e d by o t h e r s , including Stanley M a c e b u h , w h o s u g g e s t e d that m a y b e he should stay out of politics and maintain his a c k n o w l e d g e d role as "the c o n s c i e n c e of N i g e r i a . ' " 310

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Unhappily, the degree of corruption and arrogance present a m o n g Nigeria's leaders during A m i n u ' s active years did not permit legitimate political warfare between ideologically oriented groups or parties. T h e more conservative elements in the north tended to turn to Aminu during troubled times when they were feeling vulnerable and threatened on a regional or ethnic basis. They knew that M a l l a m Aminu was a staunch supporter of the integrity of the Islamic north both from a religious and cultural point of view. Since his courage and will were never in question, when these conservatives were scurrying for cover during transitional periods, they and the entire north looked to A m i n u ' s initiative to lead them back to more stable times when they could step around and in front of him to grab a major share of the pie. Their ability or inability as administrators became irrelevant at such times. A m i n u himself never seemed seriously concerned with achieving power or with the details of its administration once achieved. Rather he concerned himself with politics and democracy, or the broad organization of g o v e r n m e n t to upgrade the masses. "A new social order, . . . basing the nation's e c o n o m y on heavy industry and f a r m m o d e r n i z a t i o n , " his Party M a n i f e s t o promised. 2 This was the key to where his efforts should be concentrated. He once said that "Nigeria should have her own ideology," and that " o n c e the superstructure was built all good things would follow."' Administration, detail, allocation of revenue, or the control of corruption and ethnicity would s o m e h o w be achieved in due time if the people retained long-range control. Probably a bit naive in one sense, but realistic in another. H e k n e w these problems would remain for a long time and only long-term power, continuing in the h a n d s of the people could contain t h e m , even if only to a limited degree. After the election, however, he was face to face with power. True, it was mostly limited to Kano and K a d u n a , but there was also an active give-and-take relationship with Lagos: first, through A m i n u ' s call for a "national union g o v e r n m e n t " 4 to include all f i v e parties; then on Sept e m b e r 29, 1979, A m i n u received "a curious letter f r o m President Shagari via M a i t a m a Sule and Umaru Dikko inviting me to the Inauguration with an executive plane at my disposal—politely d e c l i n e d . T h o u g h he held no official position, he had b e c o m e deeply e n m e s h e d in the very complications that had passed him by up to this point.

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As a cabinet minister in the G o w o n Military Government, he really wasn't calling the shots; rather he performed in his ministry as well as he could, while marking time in preparation for the coming contest for power. How did Aminu face up to all this in the post-election era? With quiet confidence. He had attained a degree of power, greater than in any of his preceding years of struggle, even though unofficial. As undisputed head of a disciplined party, he expected to guide those of his lieutenants who did hold office into ever expanding channels of people's control. Through them, the party would prove to the nation how they as people's representatives could bring the benefits of development directly to those they represented. The other states would have a shining example to follow and would flock to the banners of his party, the People's Redemption Party, "PRP Governors take office—Start of a new revolutionary era," reads his diary of October I, 1979. But post-election events manifestly did not happen that way. Before the election day celebrations had a chance to simmer down, the groups working within the party had already begun their tug of war. Interviews with those involved yielded Rashoman type responses, with each in turn reporting events as he or she saw them—subjectively and often selfinterestedly, with most of them wanting to be known as Aminu's closest friend and political confrere. Their stories were often contradictory and almost always interpretive, but a credible sequence of events emerged through a composite of bits and pieces of their testimony. Members of the national party leadership who were not elected officials tried to establish the hegemony of the party apparatus over those serving in government. In turn, those in government, bolstered by an elective mandate, tried to establish their independence of action, maintaining that they represented all the people and not merely the party officialdom. Two days before the two P R P governors took office ( M o h a m m e d Abubakar Rimi in Kano and Balarabe Musa in Kaduna), Aminu had already noted that "Ikoku, Junaidu and Isa were violent against Rimi and Balarabe—complain of party leadership. . . (Author's Note: Ikoku was the National Secretary General and Junaidu the National Education Director of PRP.) This basic conflict directly influenced and actually overrode the other differences that existed between the academics and the relatively uneducated, as well as between the Kano and Kaduna leaders and those

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in states that had not even c o m e close to power. It was only after the principal conflict between the PRP governors, together with the other office holders, and the National Directorate had created the basic schism that the inner party turbulence broke out of controllable limits. Although A m i n u ' s precepts and general humanistic approach had been accepted wholeheartedly as the basis and appeal of the party by all those involved in these inner tensions, when individual accession to p o w e r b e c a m e a real possibility, many of them followed the pattern of other Nigerian politicians and grabbed for it. Following hard on the heels of such behavior c a m e ample ideological rationalization for it. T h o s e w h o had fought successfully for A m i n u ' s m i n d , nudging him toward the establishment of a separate political entity as a vehicle for his ideas back in 1978, continued to exert their conflicting pressures within the party. He was able to steer a middle course, maintaining his independ e n c e and not locking himself in irrevocably with any of the opportunistic political c o m b i n a t i o n s , but at a terrible cost to his organization. A m i n u busied himself with productive activity immediately after the August elections, as his diary notes: September September September September

14 15 27 29

Address Seminar G o over G o over

Kano House of Assembly on party program lists for c o m m i s s i o n e r s and boards speeches of two governors

He was directly engaged and things seemed to be going well, even though the governors had already begun to balk at party o f f i c i a l d o m ' s insistence upon influencing decision-making. "Had to flare up a bit at gove r n o r s ' flagrant disregard of party directives" (Diary, September 29, 1979) and " m e e t i n g to iron out differences between Kano G o v e r n o r and K a n o State C h a i r m a n of PRP" (Diary, October 11, 1979). Internecine struggles had begun to engulf the party almost immediately after the election dust settled. But it was only days after the victorious PRP candidates took o f f i c e that A m i n u was stricken once again with a serious bout of illness. A f t e r a week or so of c o n f i n e m e n t in K a n o , he flew to L o n d o n for a month of examinations and treatment. W h i l e there he kept in close touch with the struggles d e v e l o p i n g back h o m e , but in his absence these inner party conflicts continued unabated and even grew in intensity. O n e day after his return to K a n o , he wrote, "Report that Balarabe M u s a is climbing d o w n , " and very shortly after that, "Pleas for peace between Rimi and Salihi,"

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and then, "PRP Directorate—debates on indiscipline and supremacy of the party over a l l / ' 7 With frequent and increasingly severe attacks of illness interfering, Aminu's role as active leader of the party gradually diminished, until it was little more than that of "firefighter," called in to put out one blaze after another. His personalized style normally had him making decisions first and mollifying the opposing factions afterward. When he tried to avoid involvement in details by merely accepting decision of the party apparatus, he found all kinds of machinations swirling around him, subjecting him to reluctant decision-making and conflict resolution. But, said M. D. Yusufu retrospectively, "People were distorting the truth to him. He had just returned from London for treatment; that could not have happened a few years b e f o r e . N o one questioned Aminu's authority, but that of his lieutenants frequently was, causing each to run to him to bolster his or her own position with a supporting statement. This tended to reinforce Aminu's personal role, bypassing the organizational pathway to decision-making and in turn increasing his load further. Though Mallam Aminu's character and charismatic position in the nation and party were still unblemished, his dreams and ideals for Nigeria's future remained visible only on the far horizon. How to clcar the uncharted path of obstacles on the way in order to reach his golden vision was proving to be a formidable task, for while he was trying to examine political problems strategically and ideologically, many of his key subordinates were looking at the tactical questions in terms of personnel, jobs, and opportunities for self-betterment. The patient, broader, long-range view that Aminu was trying to institutionalize was just not for them. Many of those w h o functioned outside of Kano and Kaduna pushed toward some kind of cooperation with the ruling NPN , thinking of the welfare of the PRP nationally, or hoping to gain ministerial posts, or both. The Kanoites, particularly, but some in Kaduna too, were jockeying for power locally and secondarily thinking of how and with w h o m they could develop a power-sharing position nationally. The ideology and principles on which the party was founded were there to be used more as a wedge to promote their own prestige than as a basis for achieving the original goals. In Kaduna State, where a headstrong PRP Governor, Balarabe Musa, was trying to establish himself as a power center of his o w n , major difficulties arose when the governor refused to recognize that, with two-

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thirds of the state legislature c o n t r o l l e d by t h e o p p o s i t i o n , he w a s very v u l n e r a b l e . With a s t r o n g u n i t e d party a p p a r a t u s b e h i n d him and with the n e c e s s a r y a c c o m m o d a t i o n to the o p p o s i t i o n legislators, he might h a v e b e e n a b l e to m a i n t a i n his integrity and f u n c t i o n as a State C h i e f E x e c u tive. But he c h o s e i n s t e a d to f o l l o w a c o n f r o n t a t i o n a l path that led h i m and t h e PRP into political disaster. State m a t t e r s of s u b s t a n c e w e r e c o m pletely s t y m i e d , for G o v e r n o r M u s a w a s n e v e r able to f o r m his g o v e r n m e n t . H e r e f u s e d to i n c l u d e any m e m b e r s of the c o n s e r v a t i v e NPN in his c a b i n e t and the N P N - d o m i n a t e d K a d u n a State Legislature r e f u s e d to accept his a p p o i n t e e s , t h w a r t i n g his e v e r y m o v e . His p a r t y ' s blueprint f o r action as v i e w e d t h r o u g h his o w n l e f t - o r i e n t e d p r i s m w a s n e v e r e x e c u t e d and e v e n t u a l l y he w a s s u b j e c t e d to the i g n o m i n y of v i n d i c t i v e , political impeachment. K a n o , with o v e r w h e l m i n g PRP control of the slate assembly, w a s a n o t h e r matter. T h e g o v e r n o r c o u l d easily m a k e the a p p o i n t m e n t s necessary to run the state g o v e r n m e n t and could institute the progressive measures i n c o r p o r a t e d in D e m o c r a t i c H u m a n i s m , " t h e ideology w h i c h t e a c h e s s e l f - r e l i a n c e a n d the t a k e - o v e r of o u r e c o n o m y f r o m the n e o - c o l o n i a l i s t s into the h a n d s of the p e o p l e . ' " ' But the PRP state g o v e r n m e n t that was supp o s e d to serve as a m o d e l w a s to e n d in a d e b a c l e , too. M o h a m m e d A b u b a k a r R i m i , the n e w G o v e r n o r of strategic K a n o State, N i g e r i a ' s m o s t p o p u l o u s , p r o v e d to be a l m o s t as intransigent as his f e l l o w G o v e r n o r B a l a r a b e M u s a in K a d u n a . T h o u g h he didn't h a v e a sign i f i c a n t c o n s e r v a t i v e o p p o s i t i o n NPN to deal w i t h , h e did f a c e m a j o r diff e r e n c e s within t h e PRP itself. W h e n h e e l i m i n a t e d the u n p o p u l a r c o m m u nity ( h a r a j ) a n d cattle (jangali)

taxes in the state a l m o s t i m m e d i a t e l y , h e

had the full s u p p o r t of a u n i t e d party; e v e n the N P N - d o m i n a t e d states in the north w e r e f o r c e d to f o l l o w suit and c a n c e l these taxes. But w h e n R i m i ' s m a n n e r and a p p r o a c h b e c a m e a g g r e s s i v e l y c o n t e n t i o u s toward both the traditional leaders and the PRP cadre, the organizational measures w h i c h f o l l o w e d w e r e not s u p p o r t e d q u i t e so u n a n i m o u s l y . T h e c o m p l e x t u g s w h i c h A m i n u and his party f a c e d in K a n o State c e n t e r e d a r o u n d three g r o u p s : I. Salihi Iliasu, t h e K a n o S t a t e C h a i r of t h e PRP, and his f o l l o w e r s w h o felt that p a r t y d i s c i p l i n e r e q u i r e d that they s h o u l d b e the o n e s to control the state a p p a r a t u s and to m a k e a p p o i n t m e n t s . T h e y looked for and got s u p p o r t f r o m the i n t e l l e c t u a l s and m e m b e r s of the National Directorate, w h o a g r e e d w i t h their a p p r o a c h .

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2. G o v e r n o r A b u b a k a r R i m i , a l o n g with m o s t of the K a n o legislators, w h o u n d e r s t a n d a b l y felt that as e l e c t e d r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s they s h o u l d b e calling the shots. 3. T h o s e with less f o r m a l e d u c a t i o n , the ex-NEPU p e o p l e in K a n o such as Sani G u l e and S a d i q G a b a r i , w h o h a d n ' t c o n t e s t e d f o r national o f f i c e but w h o felt that they should h a v e a m a j o r role in t h e p o w e r c o m plex. T h e y t e n d e d to g r o u p a r o u n d the recently e l e c t e d S e n a t o r S a b o B a k i n - Z u w o , w h o s e p e n c h a n t f o r local politics w a s k n o w n to all partisans t h r o u g h his o f t - s t a t e d p r e f e r e n c e to s e r v e as a state c o m m i s s i o n e r . T h e s e d i v e r s e g r o u p s and their o v e r l a p p i n g s u b d i v i s i o n s w e r e b i c k ering and p o s i t i o n i n g t h e m s e l v e s for m a x i m u m l e v e r a g e . H e n c e , the difficulties w h i c h arose c o u l d not b e t h o u g h t of as o n e - s i d e d , w h i l e at the s a m e t i m e they clearly did p r o v i d e fertile soil for the s e e t h i n g c o n f l i c t to flourish. Salihi Iliasu, as K a n o State Party Chair, p r e s e n t e d a list of a p p o i n t m e n t s to c a b i n e t and parastatal b o a r d s to A m i n u for his a p p r o v a l . R i m i , on his p a r t , " r e f u s e d any d i c t a t e s and p r e s e n t e d his o w n list to h i m . M a l lam A m i n u took the lists and s u g g e s t e d that G o v e r n o r R i m i hold off to wait for party approval. T h e g o v e r n o r didn't, and a n n o u n c e d his appointees that e v e n i n g . . . " ' " ' A l t h o u g h o b v i o u s l y a n g r y at R i m i for this precipitate m o v e , A m i n u did not n u l l i f y the g o v e r n o r ' s action and his e f f o r t s to res o l v e the s m o l d e r i n g R i m i - S a l i h i c o n f l i c t c a m e to n a u g h t . " H e a l l o w e d the crisis to grow, rather than s t o m p i n g it out f r o m the b e g i n n i n g . " " H e a r t e n e d by the inaction f o l l o w i n g this his first m a j o r arrogation of p o w e r , R i m i m o v e d q u i c k l y to bolster his position by r e a c h i n g out to the g r o u p of e x - N E P u i t e s , by g i v i n g t h e m s o m e of t h e parastatal j o b s . But in the midst of this, G o v e r n o r R i m i and S e n a t o r B a k i n - Z u w o , w h o by this t i m e had his e y e on t h e g o v e r n o r s h i p , had a p u b l i c f a l l i n g out o v e r the d i s p e n s a t i o n of s o m e p a t r o n a g e , and yet a n o t h e r rift h a d a p p e a r e d to divide the m o v e m e n t . It is true that A m i n u ' s illness hit h i m pretty hard right at this t i m e , r e m o v i n g h i m partially or e v e n at t i m e s c o m p l e t e l y f r o m t h e s c e n e , but that didn't alter the fact that his inability to resolve t h e s e s c h i s m s u n f o r t u nately h e l p e d s o l i d i f y the p o s i t i o n s of the w a r r i n g f a c t i o n s . His strength of p u r p o s e a n d ability to g i v e v i g o r o u s l e a d e r s h i p w a s c o m i n g into q u e s tion. " A l t h o u g h A m i n u K a n o w a s a c o u r a g e o u s leader, in his c o n d i t i o n at the t i m e he a p p e a r e d w e a k a n d u n a b l e to control internal c r i s e s , " m u s e d S h e h u S h a n o n o . 1 " U c h e C h u k w u m e r i j e said it this w a y : "Age a f f e c t e d

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h i m m e n t a l l y as well as p h y s i c a l l y — p a r t i c u l a r l y w h e n it c a m e to the imp l e m e n t a t i o n of d e c i s i o n s . H e w o u l d delay t o o long and b e c a m e prey to too many interest groups . . . but in fairness to h i m , the problems involved lack of m o n e y , w h i c h in turn left h i m no c h o i c e but to procrastinate. H i s physical need and p e r s o n a l desire to t r a n s f e r as m a n y d e c i s i o n s and as m u c h a d m i n i s t r a t i o n as p o s s i b l e to the b u r e a u c r a c y of the party laid h i m o p e n to c h a r g e s of v a c i l l a t i o n and w e a k n e s s . S i n c e the basic c o n flict b e t w e e n party and g o v e r n m e n t o f f i c i a l s cried out for s o m e o n e p o s i t i o n e d a b o v e both for r e s o l u t i o n , w h e n A m i n u r e m a i n e d silent or a v o i d e d d e c i s i o n , d i f f e r e n c e s w e r e a u t o m a t i c a l l y r e s o l v e d by the holders of power, the g o v e r n m e n t o f f i c i a l s . H a d he a u t h o r i z e d a w a r n i n g , or p u n i t i v e a c t i o n , against R i m i ' s cavalier, i m p e t u o u s m o v e s , he m i g h t h a v e b e e n taking sides with o n e g r o u p of a d v e r s a r i e s — t h o s e w h o f a v o r e d firm party d i s c i p l i n e — b u t , on the o t h e r h a n d , it w o u l d h a v e been an u n e q u i v o c a l s t a t e m e n t that any antiparty p o s i t i o n w o u l d e v o k e the wrath of t h e entire party a p p a r a t u s . N e v e r t h e l e s s , he h e s i t a t e d , and the d i s p u t e b e t w e e n the party and its e l e c t e d g o v e r n m e n t o f f i c i a l s b e c a m e p a r a m o u n t , o v e r r i d i n g all o t h e r c o n flicts as e a c h petty d i f f e r e n c e w a s t u r n e d into s u p p o r t for o n e or the other of these t w o basic polarities. By the time A m i n u f i n a l l y c a m e d o w n hard f o r the overall d o m i n a n c e of the party, the p o s i t i o n s had h a r d e n e d to the point of n o return. G o v e r n o r B a l a r a b e M u s a on his part h a d g o n e through m u c h the s a m e c o n f l i c t with A m i n u a n d the p a r t y f u n c t i o n a r i e s . A l t h o u g h his differe n c e s w e r e m o r e i d e o l o g i c a l , the net result w a s not too d i f f e r e n t . All A m i n u ' s a t t e m p t s to f o r g e s o m e w o r k i n g r e l a t i o n s h i p with the K a d u n a NPN legislators w e r e r e j e c t e d as party i n t e r f e r e n c e . T h e g o v e r n o r turned instead to such l e f t - w i n g intellectual f i r e b r a n d s as Dr. Yusufu B a l a U s m a n f o r a d v i c e . Finally, w h e n the sticky q u e s t i o n of national alliances a r o s e , t h e g o v e r n o r s of K a n o and K a d u n a took the a c t i o n w h i c h ultimately split t h e party asunder. In an o b v i o u s ploy to w e a k e n PRP'S f i r m neutrality and to m u s t e r s u p p o r t f o r his c a n d i d a c y , C h i e f A w o l o w o a n d his UPN called f o r r e g u l a r m e e t i n g s of all t h e g o v e r n o r s a f f i l i a t e d with o p p o s i t i o n parties. S i n c e the NPP w a s r e p r e s e n t e d in g o v e r n m e n t , their g o v e r n o r s did not a t t e n d , leaving t h e UPN, GNPP, and PRP with a potential a t t e n d a n c e of nine g o v e r n o r s out of n i n e t e e n .

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Up to this point, the PRP had resisted all prior pressure to join any aliiance of parties headed primarily toward the a c h i e v e m e n t of p o w e r without programmatic affinities. As leader of PRP, A m i n u m a d e it abundantly clear that the UPN m o v e was in this category and therefore unacceptable. Shortly after the election he had offered his party's cooperation in a national unity g o v e r n m e n t , but when Awolowo turned the o f f e r d o w n , he refused any other alliance short of that as destabilizing, whether it was with the g o v e r n m e n t or in opposition. Although the internal struggle between the different personalities and groups in the PRP overlapped with the problem around the meetings of the nine "progressive" g o v e r n o r s , it is generally felt that the f o r m e r preceded and actually led into the latter. Both were part of the overall basic conflict between the PRP government office holders and the party bureaucracy. In the midst of all this in-fighting and A m i n u ' s frequent bouts of illness, requiring trips abroad for treatment, the introduction of this new conflict around the meetings of the nine governors was the c o u p de grace for the party. Ikoku, the National Secretary, M u s a M u s a w a , the National Treasurer, and others in the National Directorate felt equally strongly that attendance at these meetings would only disrupt the accepted party program. Since there was general agreement in the National Directorate, w h e n A m i n u was well e n o u g h to be rung in, he took the required disciplinary steps, insisting that the two governors refrain f r o m attending the m e e t i n g s . T h e C h u k w u m e r i j e Report probing the cause of the ensuing crisis states: " T h e inexplicable inability or unwillingness of the governors to meet the National President's request for advance information on the venue and date of the meetings aroused the National President and helped tilt his mind against the governors." 1 4 Rimi used political and tactical arguments to try to c o n v i n c e A m i n u , p l e a d i n g that: " T h e meetings of the nine governors are not a c o m i n g tog e t h e r of parties. There are no other plans f o r a closer a c c o r d . ' " 5 He even brought GNPP G o v e r n o r G o n i to A m i n u to bolster his case but all to no avail. Ultimately the t w o governors defied A m i n u "as a matter of h o n o r , " a c c o r d i n g to G o v e r n o r M u s a , and attended the meetings. 1 6 A f t e r that it w a s just a sequence of c h a r g e s and counter-charges, growing more viru-

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lent as the days and events rolled by. Virulent against A m i n u that is, for A m i n u ' s response was simply that the two governors had to cease going to these meetings and follow party discipline for them to be accepted back into the fold. Related excerpts f r o m his private diary reveal how the seq u e n c e of events evolved, as seen through his eyes: D e c e m b e r 1, 1979 February 20, 1980 April 4 April 13-29 May 5

May 23 May 25

June 4 J u n e 16 June 2 0 June 2 6 & 27

July 2 July 14 August 1 August 2

PRP Directorate meeting. Debates on indiscipline and supremacy of party over-all. Rimi briefed on issues, especially nine govs. meetings. Central Working C o m m i t t e e discusses nine govs, meetings In L o n d o n for medical treatment. Letter to Awo f r o m Sabo. [Author's Note: Secret preelection missive, allegedly asking Awo for personal consideration if he won] Rimi and Balarabe M u s a fly to Yola for another meeting of nine govs, in defiance of party directive. Rimi r e t u r n s — P r o d u c e s minutes f r o m previous m e e t i n g s — L o c k i n g the stable door after horse was stolen. I now realize that Balarabe Musa is n o longer in PRP. Finalize suspension letters. Kano legislators' reaction is d o u b l e - d e a l i n g — K e e p calm when storm breaks, but don't w e a k e n . G o v s . Rimi and Goni (GNPP) to see me to explain that there was nothing subversive at m e e t i n g s — E n d of j o u r n e y — g a v e them a long rope. Shameless Rimi and Balarabe M u s a drop in to say hello. Rimi quietly sneaked into my h o u s e and sat with others til! midnight. Lagos; Directorate takes position on recalcitrant members. Two governors expelled with ten others. Most cordial meeting so far.

A m i n u s u m m e d u p these events in this way: " B r e a k u p of the PRP was an unfortunately simple matter. Power invites other elements around it. T h e s e headstrong officials started to say no to the party f r o m the start.

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Rimi m a d e a p p o i n t m e n t s without approval, . . . We tried to make peace between G o v e r n o r Musa and K a d u n a State legislators. . . . We aiso k n e w the issue of meetings with the nine governors would be disastrous, since their statements were against our party policies. . . ,'" 7 On another occasion he a d d e d that the expulsions were " b e c a u s e of their continuous d e f i a n c e of party directives [which] a m o u n t s to total party indiscipline and anti-party activities." 1 " Dr. Junaidu M u h a m m e d (National Education and Research Director). speaking for the party, j o i n e d the public denunciation by saying that the rift was caused by "the subversive roles of the t w o PRP governors . . . [and] . . . by other party m e n w h o wanted participation of our t w o governors in the periodic ' n i n e g o v e r n o r s ' meetings. While all this was going o n , G o v e r n o r Rimi was busy issuing press statements, starting with intimations that A m i n u was being misled and gradually b e c o m i n g more and more vituperative toward him and the other PRP leaders. " R i m i thought he was more p o w e r f u l than Aminu by this t i m e and b e g a n to abuse him (I w a s R i m i ' s State C o m m i s s i o n e r For Local G o v e r n m e n t t h e n ) , " said Shehu Shanono. J H His suspension and eventual expulsion were the logical progression after R i m i ' s d e f i a n c e of A m i n u and the National Directorate. As part of the logical progression after R i m i ' s d e f i a n c e of A m i n u and the National Directorate, he was suspended from the party. This was astonishing in light of the past relationship between the t w o ; Rimi had always revered A m i n u , considering him his mentor. H e like most of the others around A m i n u f o u n d himself in M a m b a i y a House ( A m i n u ' s h o m e ) almost nightly, to discuss matters of interest and to imb i b e s o m e of the w i s d o m e m a n a t i n g f r o m M a l l a m ' s lips, even to the point where he continued this practice during the most contentious m o m e n t s of their conflict (See diary, 7/2/80). O n A m i n u ' s part, he too had felt just as close to his protege. As far back as June 17, 1974, while in an e x p a n s i v e m o o d , A m i n u warmly noted in a letter written to and referring to the author, " y o u are already part of my extended f a m i l y , " and then a d d e d , " M o h a m m e d Rimi w h o m you kindly entertained in your h o m e in N.Y., s p e a k s m u c h of you and y o u r d e e p understanding of the n o r t h . " He was o b v i o u s l y including M o h a m m e d A b u b a k a r Rimi as part of his extended f a m i l y as well. T h i s taut struggle and the defections a m o n g the very people w h o m A m i n u had singled out to be the shining e x a m p l e s for the nation and its f u t u r e leaders took a heavy toll on him. His physical disability a c c o m -

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p a n i e d by a p s y c h o l o g i c a l r e s p o n s e to these stresses had rendered h i m app a r e n t l y l a n g u i d . H e j u s t w a s n o l o n g e r the vibrant and e n e r g e t i c A m i n u w h o c o u l d take p r o m p t a n d d e c i s i v e action toward the a c h i e v e m e n t of his l o n g - t e r m g o a l s . " D u e to t h e o n s e t of his illness, M a l l a m c h a n g e d in the last f e w y e a r s of his life, p a r t i c u l a r l y in the war with rebels in the p a r t y , " said S h e h u S h a n o n o . 2 1 W h e n he did take a c t i o n , it was p e r c e i v e d as t o o little o r t o o late. D e s p i t e his r e s o l u t e diary n o t a t i o n s ( e . g . , "I a m determ i n e d to be f i r m if not dictatorial this t i m e , " and " R i m i p l e a d s for len i e n c y but I intend to p u n i s h t h e m " ) , " most of t h o s e around h i m , w h e t h e r they r e m a i n e d loyal to h i m or w h e t h e r they left him at any p o i n t , testified that e v e n t h o u g h his m e n t a l f a c u l t i e s w e r e u n i m p a i r e d , his ability to lead and deal with t h e d i f f i c u l t d e t a i l s of party and politics was n o t i c e a b l y aff e c t e d t o w a r d the e n d of his l i f e t i m e . S h e h u S h a n o n o , w h o left A m i n u and t h e PRP with the R i m i d e f e c t i o n , then left the K a n o State g o v e r n m e n t in M a y 1982 w h e n G o v e r n o r R i m i w a s e x p e l l e d , returning to the party fold in S e p t e m b e r 1982 a n d r e m a i n i n g until a f t e r A m i n u p a s s e d away, s a i d , " M a n y of t h e l e c t u r e r s w h o s u p p o r t e d h i m in 1978 left. . . . T h e y felt h e w a s f a i l i n g b e c a u s e h e lacked internal control and b e c a u s e of his a c c e p t a n c e of S a b o ( B a k i n - Z u w o ) and M u s a . H e was e x p e c t e d to c o n d e m n S a b o [for his attack o n G o v e r n o r R i m i ] u p o n his return f r o m m e d i cal t r e a t m e n t , but all he said at that point w a s that d i f f e r e n c e s b e t w e e n party and g o v e r n m e n t w e r e to b e e x p e c t e d and to please allow g o v e r n m e n t to f u n c t i o n . " 2 1 Irresolution in o t h e r s i t u a t i o n s led to s i m i l a r d o l e f u l e f f e c t s , o n e of the m o s t d i s a s t r o u s of w h i c h w a s the o n g o i n g role of S a b o B a k i n - Z u w o . T h o u g h he r e m a i n e d loyal t o A m i n u and t h e party right up to its d e m i s e , S a b o ' s r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h t h e m w a s p e r h a p s e v e n m o r e c o r r o s i v e than that of any of the d e f e c t o r s . W i t h the p a r t y ' s c o n d i t i o n w e a k e n e d f r o m t h e terrible b a t t e r i n g it w a s s u f f e r i n g at t h e h a n d s of G o v e r n o r s R i m i a n d M u s a and their s u p p o r t e r s , t h e u n f o r t u n a t e b i c k e r i n g and even v i o l e n c e introd u c e d into the inner p a r t y circles by S a b o and his f o l l o w e r s , both b e f o r e and a f t e r the e x p u l s i o n s of t h e t w o g o v e r n o r s , just about d e s t r o y e d it. C o n s t a n t illness w a s f o r c i n g A m i n u to rely heavily u p o n s e c o n d h a n d r e p o r t s and

limited,

interrupted observations,

so that as

his

c a p a c i t i e s to m a k e tactical d e c i s i o n s d w i n d l e d h e had to r e l e g a t e m o r e and m o r e r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r details. At the s a m e time h e h e s i t a t e d to d o t h i s , f o r h e k n e w of t h e s e l f - s e r v i n g t e n d e n c i e s all a r o u n d h i m . H o w m u c h of his h e s i t a t i o n s w e r e p r o d u c e d by and h o w m u c h c o n t r i b u t e d to

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the internal dissension is unclear, but probably it was an interaction working both ways. By this time, to be right or wrong almost b e c a m e less important to party organization and growth than keeping p e a c e and preventing defections. All of this of course m a d e him more vulnerable to misconceptions and distortions regarding the behavior of his lieutenants in his absence or out of his sight. U c h e C h u k w u m e r i j e observed: " H e laid a lot of e m p h a s i s on personal loyalty. As a c o n s e q u e n c e the smart, smooth talkers gained greater access to him." 2 4 T h e net result was to polarize and sharpen the existing d i f f e r e n c e s and disillusionment on the part of those o f f e n d e d , while accelerating the process of falling away. Frustration within the many factions that had sprung up discouraged m u c h of what remained of the ideological unity and ultimate devotion to the cause. W h e n Aminu lost a goodly n u m b e r of the party intellectuals and legislators with the Rimi-Balarabe M u s a splitaway, he had on several occasions expressed concern that those a m o n g t h e m w h o r e m a i n e d , even though very supportive in the idea d e p a r t m e n t , had w o e f u l l y weak ties to the masses. Aminu well k n e w that these educated cadres were essential to the proper f u n c t i o n i n g of the party and to whatever g o v e r n m e n t posts were w o n , but he also understood that the ultimate strength of the m o v e m e n t resided in those w h o m the party represented, namely, the people. Although he recognized the severe shortcomings of the less-educated group within the party leadership, he did consider that they had closer ties with c o m m o n e r s than did the intellectuals. " S a b o is a real crowd puller," said Aliyu Dasuki. 2 5 This j u d g m e n t of A m i n u ' s was probably responsible for the closing of his eyes to S a b o ' s unsavory tactics, despite his strong distrust of these e l e m e n t s . M e a n w h i l e , " S a b o quickly built himself a f o r m i d able base by ostentatiously f u n d i n g party activities in K a n o , " said U c h e Chukwumerije.26 W h e n Rimi d e f e c t e d , his very thin support consisted primarily of o f f i c e holders and contract and favor seekers, including s o m e of the old NEPU supporters. But one in this latter group w h o ostensibly remained faithful to A m i n u and the PRP was Sabo, for he and a f e w other long-term intimates well understood A m i n u ' s unshakable hold on the people. M a n y of the party activists warned A m i n u to deal with S a b o ' s crude e x c e s s e s , but his d i m i n i s h e d capacity to act in such chaotic matters led M a l l a m to procrastinate. " H i s weakness of looking for personal loyalty

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left h i m o p e n to the s n i v e l i n g S a b o , " o p i n e d C h u k w u m e r i j e in this s a m e interview. A m i n u ' s c o p i o u s n o t e s , letters, and i n t e r v i e w s indicate his w a r i n e s s of S a b o ' s l i m i t a t i o n s a n d f a u l t s , as p e r his diary n o t a t i o n s , "Warn S a b o o n c a r e l e s s t o n g u e , " and " S a b o calls f r o m L a g o s with usual a n s w e r s , w h i l e he's c h i e f c a u s e of r u m o u r s of PRP j o i n i n g S h a g a r i g o v e r n m e n t ! " and f u r t h e r , " S a b o w a r n e d about m o v e s to p e r s u a d e us to f o r m n e w party to i n c l u d e C.NPP, PRP and certain e l e m e n t s of the northern elite." 2 7 Yet t i m e a f t e r t i m e he c a m e d o w n on S a b o ' s side, d e m o n s t r a t i n g his concern that the party not e n d u p with a g r o u p of loyal intellectuals with only limited i n f l u e n c e u p o n the p o o r u n e d u c a t e d f a r m e r s and w o r k e r s . H e leaned h e a v i l y on p e o p l e like S a b o and this old g r o u p of c o n f i d a n t s that had b e e n with h i m since t h e early NEPU y e a r s , e v e n t h o u g h it was clear that m o d e r n political c o n d i t i o n s h a d rendered t h e m a n a c h r o n i s t i c . "In the later y e a r s , [ A m i n u ] w a s a p a w n of poorly e d u c a t e d intriguers. H e k n e w he was b e i n g m a n i p u l a t e d , b u t he sided with t h e m , a n y w a y , " said M . T. Waziri. 2 * For e x a m p l e , w h e n A m i n u had to leave N i g e r i a for m e d i c a l treatm e n t in O c t o b e r , 1979, just a f t e r the PRP'S o v e r w h e l m i n g electoral succ e s s e s in K a n o , he a p p o i n t e d G o v e r n o r R i m i to act in his behalf until his return. It w a s d u r i n g this period that S a b o ' s first m a j o r d i s a g r e e m e n t a r o s e r e g a r d i n g d i s p e n s a t i o n of p a t r o n a g e . H e f o u n d an e x c u s e to declaim p u b licly on T V and radio against t h e g o v e r n m e n t of his o w n party and R i m i r e s p o n d e d in k i n d . For m a k i n g such a d i v i s i v e m o v e , S a b o w a s taken to task a n d s u s p e n d e d by K a n o M u n i c i p a l , the very Local G o v e r n m e n t b r a n c h of w h i c h h e w a s chair. " T h e State Directorate of t h e party set u p a c o m m i t t e e to investigate the c o n f l i c t . . . a n d . . . invited t h o s e i n v o l v e d to testify. . . . W h e n A m i n u r e t u r n e d f r o m a b r o a d , h e s u r p r i s e d m a n y of us by a b o l i s h i n g all L o c a l G o v e r n m e n t party b r a n c h e s , saying that they didn't h a v e a c l e a r o r g a n i z a t i o n a l c o n n e c t i o n u p to that t i m e , e v e n t h o u g h he himself had p a r t i c i p a t e d in the o p e n i n g of these b r a n c h e s in the past." 2 M R e g a r d l e s s of t h e general e f f e c t of this o r g a n i z a t i o n a l m o v e , or t h e r e a s o n i n g b e h i n d it, the net result w a s to n e g a t e S a b o ' s s u s p e n s i o n . A m i n u s e e m e d to see e x t e n s i v e s u b v e r s i o n a r o u n d h i m , but s o m e h o w c o n t i n u e d to r e g a r d S a b o as a loyal supporter. S a b o later went on to b u l l d o z e his w a y into b e c o m i n g t h e chair of the K a n o State D i r e c t o r a t e , m o w i n g d o w n m a n y in his p a t h . T h o u g h the m a j o r i t y of the d e l e g a t e s present at the t i m e of this e l e c t i o n insisted that Salihi, his o p p o n e n t , w a s

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clearly elected, S a b o ' s followers simply declared their man victor and had the brute strength to beat back any w h o dared question the result. Well over 5 0 percent of those in attendance went to A m i n u with a petition to the National Directorate protesting these actions, but Sabo personally built a n e w State Headquarters, donated it to the party, and quickly m o v e d its physical plant. "After six m o n t h s , w e never k n e w whether the National Directorate had ever issued a report on the matter. . . . Sabo had effectively cut us o f f , " c o m p l a i n e d M . T. Waziri. 1 " And many more of A m i n u ' s followers d r o p p e d by the wayside. There were several attempts to reconcile the many factions and individuals involved in these on-going clashes and A m i n u was delighted when any of them showed possibilities of success. But without the spread of Aminu's almost ascetic life style and unwavering dedication to the masses to bind the partisans together, these attempts were d o o m e d to fail. W h i l e these deep-seated internal squabbles were going on, another m a j o r disturbance was to erupt on the K a n o scene, but beyond party confines this t i m e — t h a t b e t w e e n G o v e r n o r Rimi and the E m i r of Kano. In his attempt to convey an image of forthright opposition to the traditional hierarchy, Rimi seemed to ignore the nuance which distinguished between the traditions and institutions of emirship and the p o w e r it had once wielded. T h e police, the courts, all the evident m e a n s of i m p l e m e n t i n g p o w e r had been removed from the Emir's control long before Rimi had a s s u m e d o f f i c e as governor. " T h e essential reform of the Local Government system was a c c o m p l i s h e d in the last years of the military r e g i m e . " " W h a t remained of the emir's influence could be exerted only through his spiritual leadership, hardly an effective tool to wield real power. But Rimi, whether through revolutionary zeal or the need to arrogate all the s y m b o l s of p o w e r as well as its reality, felt he had to publicly d e c i m a t e the institution of emirship. Utilizing his authority to appoint and regulate the traditional leadership, he first m o v e d to carve three new emirates (Gaya, R a n o , and Dutsi) out of the traditional territory of the Emir of K a n o , and one f r o m that of Hadejia Emirate (Auyo), "in recognition of the role traditional rulers were playing in national d e v e l o p m e n t , " said G o v e r n o r R i m i . " "We wanted to destroy the image of the institution of e m i r s h i p , " said S h e h u S h a n o n o , then K a n o State C o m m i s s i o n e r of Local Government.11 This intrusive action in April 1981 was a c c o m p a n i e d by a m o v e to decentralize the annual Sallah Festival. In previous years the populace

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f r o m the surrounding areas had gathered together in K a n o City to pay h o m a g e to the Emir. This time, however, "We reconstructed the history of the old emirates prior to the British and told the District H e a d s to remain in their o w n a r e a s , " said Shehu S h a n o n o . 1 4 In response Shehu U m a r Abdullahi said: " T h e state government order against participation in the Eidil Fitr or Eidil Kabir Festivities by other District H e a d s in Kano E m i rate is perhaps an unconscious attack on the religious values of the c o m munity. . . . T h e s e activities were first introduced by M u h a m m a d u R u m f a i n l 4 6 3 . . . . ' " ' W i d e s p r e a d disgruntlement followed this u n p o p u lar m o v e , for each year the people had eagerly looked forward to the business, the gaiety, and the pageantry which a c c o m p a n i e d the huge annual Sallah celebrations. T h e inexorable push by Rimi continued to stoke the e m b e r s of discontent for a few more months, until July 9, 1981, when he shocked the people of K a n o even further by sending an irreverent letter "suitable for a d m o n i s h i n g a clerk" to the Emir "alleging disrespect for the State Governor, [and] gave the E m i r twenty-four hours to provide reasons why he should not be subjected to disciplinary a c t i o n . " " ' T h e E m i r hastily informed A m i n u , w h o by chance received his c o m munication in the presence of the author. He went pale, muttering something like "He's crazy! I ' m really worried that there's going to be trouble!" That night A m i n u ' s diary (July 9, 1981) read, "Meet Emir and Chief of Police to discuss matter." A m i n u ' s concerns were not u n f o u n d e d . W h e n the n e w s leaked out on the following day, crowds surged through the streets, giving vent to their anger by putting the torch to a n u m b e r of g o v e r n m e n t buildings, including the K a n o State Radio, the K a n o H o u s e of Assembly, and the Governor's residence. T h e unfettered violence spilled over to destroy the h o m e s of a n u m b e r of state officials, the most unfortunate of which was that of the Political Advisor to the Governor, Dr. Bala M o h a m m e d . Fearful of being stoned to death by the unruly m o b surrounding his burning house if he f l e d , he remained within the f o u r walls and perished in the flames. Even during A m i n u ' s years as a y o u n g hard-to-contain rebel, his attack on the institution of emirship had never been so c r u d e or confrontational as to alienate the more traditional talakawa ( c o m m o n e r s ) . T h e language and subject matter of Rimi's letter to the Emir s e e m e d to be directed not at any residual power which might have been retained by the

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Emir, but at the E m i r ' s absence f r o m formal o b s e r v a n c e s when officially invited, or on the other hand, his attending festivities or taking trips without the permission of the g o v e r n m e n t authorities. A m i n u ' s efforts had been rather to strip the traditional emirship of p o w e r to exploit its constituents, while retaining all the respect, p o m p , and f a n f a r e , the trappings, of traditional rule. In the context of the 1950's, though A m i n u ' s behavior had p e r h a p s been more extreme than in the recent past, he had never failed to pay ceremonial d e f e r e n c e to the titular head of K a n o Emirate. Nevertheless, his actions were considered c o u r a g e o u s and actually revolutionary, i . e . , seeking to overthrow feudal p o w e r and instate a bourgeois d e m o c r a t i c rule. In the 1980's, however, Rimi's action was seen only as posturing and unsettling . W h e t h e r the riots were purely spontaneous or whether the m o b s were egged on by NPN provocateurs, or a combination of the two, it is clear that large n u m b e r s of people were in such a state of mind that when word of Rimi's thoughtless missive spread, it fell on very hostile ears. It is interesting to note here that Emir A d o Bayero felt friendly and close enough to A m i n u at this point to appeal immediately and directly to him f o r advice as to how to proceed. Similarly, A m i n u ' s attitude toward the E m i r was firmly supportive. Since the p o w e r of the emirship had already been broken, he felt that the institution could be useful f o r t h e stability of the country. A sympathetic constitutional figurehead could likewise help mobilize the traditional talakawa around progressive g o v e r n m e n t . A m i n u ' s Islamic and Hausa heritage kept him s o m e w h a t removed f r o m the more Western-oriented Marxists and left-wing socialists within his r a n k s — l e a v i n g him with " D e m o c r a t i c H u m a n i s m , " an updated and more accurate description of both his current political status and the direction in which he w a s heading during the Second Republic. A m i n u ' s militant goals had been modified s o m e w h a t following the ill-fated 1964 federal elections, when he realized that head-on confrontation w o u l d not be the most e f f e c t i v e way to eradicate the p o w e r of traditional authority. I n f l u e n c e on a national level could more readily strip it of p o w e r by wresting the e n f o r c e m e n t m e c h a n i s m s f r o m their control without disturbing the d e e p spiritual relationship which had grown u p in the preceding century and a half following the U s m a n Dan Fodio Jihad. His opposition to autocracy hadn't changed m u c h over the ensuing years, though the context and the t i m e s had, so that w h e n o n e speaks of the "softe n i n g " of A m i n u it should perhaps be seen as a maturation process, as a

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c h a n g e in relative

p o s i t i o n , not in basic p r e c e p t s .

W h i l e M a l l a m A m i n u ' s left f l a n k w a s b e i n g assailed for this socalled s o f t e n i n g , so t o o w a s his right f l a n k . W h e n the e x p u l s i o n of the R i m i - I m o u d u g r o u p w a s s u b s e q u e n t l y v a l i d a t e d by F e d e c o and the c o u r t s , the g r o u p within t h e party f a v o r i n g a closer a l l i a n c e

with

Awolovvo and the anti-NPN so-called " P r o g r e s s i v e s " had lost m u c h of its steam. T h u s , r e l e a s e d , t h o s e p u s h i n g t o w a r d the ruling NPN took the o f f e n sive. S. G . I k o k u , the S e c r e t a r y - G e n e r a l of the PRP and the leading prop o n e n t of such a tilt, felt very strongly the c o n s t r a i n t f o r c e d u p o n the party by its c o n s t a n t lack of f u n d s a n d that the sole asset left to the PRP w a s M a l l a m A m i n u ' s c h a r i s m a . " W h e n the P R P . . . says it is c o m m i t t e d to w i n n i n g p o w e r t h r o u g h the ballot b o x , w e h a v e to put d o w n w h a t it takes to get a majority. . . . We n e e d m o n e y to set u p a m a c h i n e r y to get o u r m e s s a g e a c r o s s — n o t m o n e y to b u y v o t e r s . " T h i s he felt c o u l d c o m e only t h r o u g h i n c u m b e n c y , since " t h o s e w h o g a v e y o u m o n e y b e f o r e , w o u l d h a v e h a d t i m e to r e c o u p their l o s s e s . " " W h e n h e c o u p l e d this with his k n o w n strong a n t i p a t h y to A w o l o w o and the UPN, his pro-NPN alliance v i e w s w e r e f u r t h e r r e i n f o r c e d . T h i s o r i e n t a t i o n u n d e r s t a n d a b l y laid him o p e n to a c c u s a t i o n s of s e e k i n g a ministerial post and selling o u t , particularly w h e n he b e c a m e i n v o l v e d in a t t e m p t s to f o r g e such an inter-party coalition on a national scale. A m i n u ' s s t a n c e against a l l i a n c e s — n e i t h e r to t o p p l e n o r to r e i n f o r c e the national g o v e r n m e n t , but to s u p p o r t or o p p o s e it on s p e c i f i c i s s u e s — w a s a c c e p t e d as the party p o s i t i o n . T h i s p o s i t i o n tipped t o w a r d I k o k u ' s tactics, but s t o p p e d short of any a g r e e m e n t s solely f o r d i s p e n s a t i o n of pat r o n a g e ; the strategy left the party i d e o l o g i c a l l y p u r e , but f i s c a l l y poor. I k o k u , on his p a r t , saw the national o r g a n i z a t i o n s t a g n a t i n g ,

while

A m i n u ' s c h a r i s m a w a s k e e p i n g the local f o c u s a r o u n d K a n o State and env i r o n s a l i v e , in spite of t h e p r o s a i c quality of its l e a d e r s h i p . S i n c e I k o k u ' s c o n n e c t i o n with the p a r t y c o u l d only be o n a national level, he b e c a m e m o r e and m o r e d i s i l l u s i o n e d . H e saw it as a n o - w i n situation a n d u l t i m a t e l y d e c l a r e d p u b l i c l y that " A m i n u ' s c h a r i s m a . . . just d o e s not c o v e r t h e w h o l e c o u n t r y , " a n d w i t h o u t the f i n a n c i a l res o u r c e s to s p r e a d his a p p e a l nationally, t h e PRP did not h a v e e v e n an outside c h a n c e of electoral victory. ™ W h e n h e w a s p u b l i c l y t a k e n to task f o r this d e f e a t i s m by U c h e Chukwumerije,

the

National

Publicity

Secretary,

and

Dr.

Junaidu

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M o h a m m e d , party Research and Education Director, he protested to A m i n u , the National President, that he was entitled to express a personal opinion. A m i n u responded to Ikoku that his "statement demoralized the rank and file of the party and the general p u b l i c , " and that, therefore, "you would appreciate the urgency [to speak up] to quickly clear the doubts in our viability, created . . . by your unfortunate statement." 1 ' 1 Shortly after this interchange Mr. Ikoku resigned his post as Secretary-General, and eventually found himself in the NPN, supporting President Shehu Shagari for re-election. These must have been hard blows for A m i n u to bear. O n e by one his cadres had been leaving h i m . His dauntless o p t i m i s m might have sustained him, with the k n o w l e d g e that the ever-loyal masses still had unflagging faith in him and he could reassure himself that in turn he had remained faithful to t h e m . But the joints needed to hold together the unified structure that w o u l d enable this partnership to achieve the power to help themselves had o p e n e d up. T h e entire edifice was close to collapse. T h e active following left to him consisted for the most part of the bully elements w h o had pushed their way into party control in Kano and some greatly demoralized intellectuals w h o had remained loyal even though they were now effectively closed out f r o m all g o v e r n m e n t and party positions in Kano. T h e remainder consisted of those disparate elements who could conceive of no other path for h u m a n i s t s to follow: Aminu was still the single pillar of morality and courage standing head and shoulders above any other w o u l d - b e leader in N i g e r i a — t h e r e was always the hope of a regrouping and renascence. Without him there was just no one else. Chinua A c h e b e and U c h e C h u k w u m e r i j e were two w h o stuck to the end. Achebe's status as a literary figure and teacher had put him in the unique position of needing or wanting no special political favor, nor did he have any political axe to grind. Evidently he did feel very keenly the desperate need f o r the d e v e l o p m e n t of a viable national morality and conscience. Seeing A m i n u and the PRP working toward these goals, A c h e b e identified himself closely with t h e m . As the inner party struggles heated up, he had kept a l o o f , but with educated activists leaving the fold in growing n u m b e r s and the available pool d w i n d l i n g , he was d r a w n more and more into organizational activity, despite the c o m p r o m i s e and diversion f r o m his literary work it entailed. By January 1983, A c h e b e chaired a meeting at which the A n a m b r a guber-

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natorial candidate was chosen and was appointed by A m i n u to the National Electoral C o m m i s s i o n . H e saw A m i n u in a class with M a h a t m a G a n d h i , as one of the rare individuals w h o s e life of self-denial and service to the people could be attained by very few, but w h o could serve as a model for large multitudes to rally around in the liberation struggle. Although C h u k w u m e r i j e started f r o m a slightly different position and with a slightly different perspective, he too completed the full cycle, ending u p in m u c h the same place as Achebe. He was involved in active party organization right f r o m the formation of the PRP on up to its final days after A m i n u ' s death. His motivation was simple: " W h e n 1 met Aminu in his house on Ikorodu R o a d , what impressed m e was his simplicity, and contempt for material position. After I reflected on the ideology available at that time, I was satisfied that his political view was nearest to my own socialist inclinations." 4 " Uche was a dedicated, efficient administrator, acutely aware of the clashes e n g u l f i n g the party, without actually being drawn into partisanship. W h e n called upon to head a c o m m i t t e e set up to mediate party differences, he was able to remain the objective observer and reporter. His support f o r A m i n u and the party was anchored to A m i n u ' s dedication above and beyond a particular part of the country. "His outstanding feature was his deep concern for the d o w n t r o d d e n that even transcended the nation. He was aware of priorities necessary to function politically. Even though many southerners felt he was too m u c h a northerner, he knew a larger allottment f r o m our limited resources . . . had to go to the one or t w o states where our prospects for victory were good." 4 1 As the Second Republic b e c a m e involved in its second electoral c a m p a i g n in early 1983, A m i n u was found battling away in the trenches once again. W h e n his latter-day illness struck, he continued in his foreordained direction, still trying to serve as a focus for a m a s s party to service the needs of the people. T h e fractious intra-party feuding had left its toll, but the ailing M a l l a m k n e w what his life was all about and just kept plugging away. It was at this critical j u n c t u r e that he m a d e the last major political m o v e he was to m a k e — h i s choice of a w o m a n , Mrs. Bola O g u n b o h , as his vice-presidential running m a t e . W h e n he introduced her to the press with, "If w e don't m a k e w o m e n a part of our struggle, w e shall not succeed," 4 2 it represented a logical c o n t i n u u m of his i n v o l v e m e n t — t h e fight for w o m e n ' s rights and f o r all people of high or low status, male or

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female. He a n n o u n c e d this choice along with the h u m o r o u s reassurance that the r u m o u r s floating about that he had died were "a bit p r e m a t u r e , " and that he h o p e d that people were not in too much of a hurry to bury him: "It's been the v o g u e for my death to be seasonally a n n o u n c e d . " 4 1 However, it must have been more than coincidence that one week later, he was f o u n d in the w e e hours of the m o r n i n g of April 17 permanently asleep, never again to utter his words of w i s d o m to his disciples and the w o r l d . To reconstruct the last days of A m i n u ' s life was far f r o m a simple task. Each of the people around him had his or her own little memory, little tidbit c o n c e r n i n g the last time he was seen or his behavior during his last m o n t h , w e e k s , or even days: " M a l l a m called m e and told me to have a broad m i n d . S o m e of these people are not g o o d , but we must work with them. He died ten days later," said Shehu S h a n o n o . 4 4 "I was in Egypt when he passed away and missed the f u n e r a l , " said the E m i r of K a n o , "but upon my return for the first time in history, I as E m i r visited and prayed at his graveside. T h e loss was deeply felt." 4 5 Stories were rife about the premonition he had that his remaining days on this earth were limited. Young Z a i n a b Wali told of the tale going around that A m i n u was seen praying and holding f o u r fingers aloft exactly four days before his passing. Other stories include that about A h m a d u Trader, w h o m A m i n u had called back after an estrangement of s o m e twelve years to say that "the days left for us are f e w and w e should be friends, close as we once were. . . ." A m i n u ' s personal secretary reported that "Ahmadu Trader was with A m i n u the night before until midnight, and was so concerned that he returned terribly distraught early the following m o r n i n g , shortly after A m i n u ' s body was discovered." 4 '' T h e n there were several w h o insisted that M a l l a m A m i n u must have had s o m e indication of his impending death, for many of the decisions of his last m o n t h s were unduly hasty; he seemed to be in a hurry to get things d o n e and out of the way b e f o r e it was too late, and as a result, even m a d e errors in j u d g m e n t . (Rep. M o h a m m e d T u d u n W a d a ) . A more professional assessment c a m e f r o m Dr. Junaidu M o h a m m e d , a PRP activist and a p h y s i c i a n — a n d therefore more k n o w l e d g e a b l e — w h o indicated that A m i n u had had several severe attacks of malaria, with signs of cerebral malaria, and probably had a massive stroke as a result. S h a t u , his senior w i f e , reported: "I saw him last on Saturday eve at 10:30 P.M. and said good night. Sunday m o r n i n g at 8:30 A.M., I c a m e into his room and w a s frightened w h e n 1 caught sight of him. I couldn't wake

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him. . . . I called M o h a m m e d and ran f o r a doctor." 4 7 M . B. Suleiman f o u n d her wringing her hands upon her return, along with many others w h o were gathering. " M a l l a m worried about the country all the time but tended to ignore his own illness. H e didn't like taking medicine. . . . His spells had been c o m i n g almost every other w e e k , but this time though he was not rigid and looked the same as with his other fainting spells, after the doctor arrived, he solemnly c o n f i r m e d M a l l a m ' s death with 'Allah giveth and Allah t a k e t h . ' " 4 a T h e burial took place that same a f t e r n o o n , as is the custom. Since no p o s t - m o r t e m examination was permitted, the actual cause of death remains obscure. T h e only clues available relate to observations of his illness during his last week or days. T h e nation was stunned. From east, west, north, and south, the fam o u s and the i n f a m o u s , royalty and c o m m o n e r s , the wealthy and the poor—all flocked to Kano, to M a m b a i y a House, to pay homage: the president, all the governors, the Emir of K a n o and the traditional leaders, Zik, Awo, and all the leaders of the nation, whether friend or foe. For days the crowds milled about in the streets mourning their leader, not k n o w i n g where to turn or what to do. O n e wonders where were the many w h o were now attributing saint-like qualities to this gentle "revolutionary" while he was still alive. But there they were, hoping to gain a wee bit from the p o s t - m o r t e m a c k n o w l e d g e m e n t of the greatness of the spiritual force of this native son. With his passing, he b e c a m e Nigeria's first universally accepted national hero: a noble spirit w h o stood up unwaveringly for the c o m m o n people, unlike those w h o had o v e r w h e l m i n g l y succumbed to the very immorality he had fought to his last breath. M a l l a m A m i n u Kano was a giant of a m a n , w h o insisted he was of normal stature; he was completely approachable by the high and the l o w l y — p e r h a p s too much so, but he would have had it no other way.

The Civilians' Second Try

-16Early Assessments This tale of the growth of a man and a nation was conceived in a time of crisis and civil strife, and was completed in its first version during the period of reconstruction following the collapse of Biafran resistance. At that point it seemed fitting enough to use that period as one of projection into posterity, of reexamination and réévaluation as to what role a man like Aminu could or would play in the "When" period of his nation's history. What was his own conception of his future role, on the one hand, and in what form or fashion would circumstances permit him to function, on the other? As originally conceived, this book was to be a straightforward biography of Aminu Kano. Yet, it quickly became evident that his country's history was so inextricably interwoven with his own that much attention had to be devoted to the detail of national development in order to find the essence of the man. If the story seems oriented toward Aminu, it was so intended; if in the process of telling it, other national leaders seem slighted, it was not. Since Aminu was a product of Hausa-Fulani culture, events in the North were described in detail, whereas events and personalities of southern Nigeria were included only to the extent that Aminu was involved. Thus, if any readers are moved to investigate further into the history of Nigeria to get other perspectives, it would be flattering indeed. If the reader has gained some insights into the quality of life of a man whose feet were firmly rooted in the soil of his ancestors, whose body was of the stem of his times, and whose head reached to the sky, hidden by clouds of the future—who matured during a time of computers and moon-walks, as well as emirs, herbalists, mud huts, and camels—the book has been successful. When the Sarkin Dawaki of Kano said of Aminu Kano that he never became a total political being but was born into it, he was speaking for most of those who learned to know the man well. Politics was in his pores,

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and poured out or just oozed depending upon the stimulus. His energy was so consumed by the demands of his political existence that he had little left for a private life. Though Aminu was obviously a friendly, affectionate person, his devotion to his politics and his country's people apparently shut out any really meaningful personal attachments, through what has been universally recognized as total political submersion. As he saw it, there just was not enough time for them; his long absences from his home separated him from both its pleasures and problems. Because he was always deeply moral (influenced undoubtedly by his early rigid religious training), he loved his family and accordingly remained respectful to them. Since he also liked life and laughter, his years of single-minded concentration on improving the lot of his fellow Nigerians must have created much inner turmoil. The temptations must have been great and the subsequent self-denial even greater, even though the days of fasting in his youth were meant to steel him for a life of relative austerity. If he ever derived great satisfaction from his position in the nation. and from a sense of fulfilling his destiny, it did not lessen the extent of the personal strength involved. One can easily imagine that his frustration and dejection must have weighed heavily on him in 1965, when his whole political world was collapsing around him As noted previously, Aminu married a second wife, buried a close friend, and had a committee meeting all in one day, reflective of the political blinders he wore. Perhaps this has been true of leaders or politicians anywhere in the world, but unlike many of these people, his subordination of private life and utter dedication to politics did not seem to be related even remotely to personal opportunism. Aminu never greatly concerned himself with his own public posture or place in posterity; rather, he was impelled by the overwhelming need to be in a key position in order to accomplish his lifelong goals, whether in government or as leader in opposition. He was not self-oriented, but consistently group-goal oriented. Unlike most politicians of the Western world, Aminu never wanted to be a manipulator of the masses in order to rise high to a position of prestige. He was more a man who early felt his mission in life was to bridge the gap between the isolation and darkness of feudalism and the blinding light of a world of modernism and technology—the new concept of civilization. In this struggle to shift the reins of power from the old to the new, he wanted neither to antagonize nor to bow to anyone. His life was filled with bitter clashes of ideas, casting him as a symbol of resis-

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tance to the feudal hierarchy for the poverty-ridden masses and young intelligentsia. Yet, he couldn't remain so indefinitely, for c h a n g e and the very act of mobilizing for action tended to take him off the pedestal and subject his c o m p r o m i s e s , or lack thereof, to personal attacks. As n k p u , the vehicle chosen for this took shape, it picked up all the problems attendant upon political warfare: difficulties with finances, cadres, local tactical applications of general tenets, and alliances with the not-so-simon-pure and not-so-competent, the disaffected and the aristocratic malcontents. Yet. even m a k i n g allowances for the caginess of political opponents and the adulation of his followers, the c o m m e n t s of everyone w h o knew A m i n u were surprisingly free of rancor, vengefulness, or bitterness. He "attacks ideas or c o n c e p t s , not p e o p l e , " friend and foe were quite ready to attest, and he carried no grudges: W h e n a hand was proffered to A m i n u , his hand was extended in ready response. T h e traits in A m i n u that were not so laudable (for there always are some), a man such as he, always emotionally under control, seemed able to contain. However, if he was capable of covering these traits so well that one was unaware of them, how meaningful could they have been to his life-style? If the only plaints about him were peripheral, and at least in some instances reflection of the c o m m e n t a t o r ' s disappointments or frustrations in regard to h i m , or if there were s o m e objections to his militancy, his speed, or his impulsiveness, would a public awareness of this have altered the image of a l i f e t i m e ? T h e y might have, but s o m e h o w they never surfaced. T h e abiding passive fatalism of the people of the North, A m i n u linked directly to lack of education. H o w else could the talakawa have explained a high mortality rate save through the presence of jinns or by " G o d ' s will"? But w h e n sanitary measures taken during the first weeks of a child's life visibly improved its chances for survival, what happened to jinns or G o d ' s will? W h e n smallpox vaccinations were b e g u n , the large mass of peasants regarded this health measure as though it in itself were a plague and tried to avoid the vaccinations by bribing the sanitary inspectors. Today these same people, now more enlightened, clamor to be first in line. As a result, the World Health Organization has indicated that Northern Nigeria is completely free of smallpox. A m i n u ' s second h o m e is located in Kano's formerly desolate Dalla Hill area, where jinns supposedly abounded in great numbers during his

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youth. No one dared to live there back then, but the jinns eventually disappeared, and people of the North jostled each other in their haste to secure land. They learned, with Aminu's gentle urging, that even "destiny" can be influenced by one's actions. As their alienation ended and they awakened, he felt that a populist upsurge should ensue. His early crusade for enlightenment, starting with his intense concentration on proper sanitation for all, soon had the broad goal of education for all. With schooling comes economic and social development, and as they both arrive, superstition departs. Early recognition of the role that ignorance and fatalism in religion play in encouraging superstition, and how these were manipulated by the power brokers of yesteryear, led Aminu into his early religious struggles to free society from such control. H. G. Butler, Provincial Education Officer of Bauchi in the 1940's. characterized Aminu as a "divine discontent." He accepted religion as deeply ingrained in his people and carefully separated it from the traditions which were palmed off as religious observances by the rulers to perpetuate their rule. His father's parochial, rigid orthodoxy, and the conflicts which arose from his application of it to the law, enabled Aminu the boy and young man to see through the hierarchy's attempt to use religion as an opiate. Instead, he regarded religion as the moral basis for a system of social justice. Allusions to Islamic doctrine were used consistently in order to reinforce principles of democracy and egalitarianism. NEPU'S slogan, translated from the Hausa, was "To glorify G o d , association and service to the c o m m u n i t y " — a n d any religious organizations sympathetic to these goals were encouraged. 1 Rather than shock the Northern Nigerian masses with unfamiliar values associated with modern institutions, Aminu and NIIPU tried to cross the bridge in familiar forms—the same moral elements in tradition and religion. They tried to separate Fulani family-compact rule from the Islamic beliefs of the talakawa by resuscitating the Habe pre-Fulani history of the religion. They pointed to Usman Dan Fodio, his son Bello, and his brother Abdullahi as great Moslem democrats whose tenets were subsequently distorted by their successors. At the same time, "Aminu Kano, w h o enjoyed a reputation for being devout, came close to fitting that relatively rare breed of active Moslems who believe the Islamic ideal to be a secular state." 2 In order to build a "bridge from then to w h e n " and bring the old world up to date, in order to expand and unite his people into a One Nigeria, Aminu knew that ignorance and illiteracy had to be elimi-

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n a t e d f r o m e a c h religious g r o u p , e a c h v i l l a g e , e a c h region. His c o n c e p t of strong l e a d e r s h i p did not in any way s e e m to h i m to c o n t r a d i c t this d e d i c a t i o n to the f r e e i n g and s e c u l a r i z a t i o n of society. T h e S a r d a u n a ' s strength of l e a d e r s h i p had n e v e r really distressed h i m , since the g o a l s he h a d s o u g h t were w h a t A m i n u f o u g h t , not the m a n . S a r d a u n a ' s p e r s o n a l i t y and p r e s t i g e and the f e a r he instilled in o t h e r s w e r e e n l i s t e d in the c a u s e of traditional authority, i n t r o d u c i n g c h a n g e o n l y to the d e g r e e n e c e s s a r y to m a i n t a i n it. T h e d e m o c r a t i c f o r c e s n e e d e d strength of leaders h i p and initiative, t o o , and A m i n u h o p e d to p r o v i d e these. H e o v e r c a m e any o p p o s i t i o n within his party by the p o w e r of his ideas and his p r e s t i g e in the o r g a n i z a t i o n . D u r e s s , he b e l i e v e d , w a s not the only e f f e c t i v e f o r m of s t r e n g t h . His r e c o g n i t i o n of the n e e d for a strong l e a d e r s h i p with m a s s p o p u lar s u p p o r t logically led him into socialist t e r r a i n . W h i l e in E n g l a n d , he had f o u n d s o m e m e a n i n g in the o r t h o d o x M a r x i s t - L e n i n i s t a p p r o a c h , but he realized that any a t t e m p t to transplant its d o g m a to the raw, u n p r e p a r e d soil of N i g e r i a w o u l d fail. H e stuck to and c o n t i n u e d to a d v o c a t e socialism,

but w i t h i n the A f r i c a n , and m o r e specifically

Nigerian,

f r a m e w o r k , it a s s u m e d very special d i m e n s i o n s . A c c o r d i n g to C . S. W h i t a k e r , " M a x i m u m p o p u l a r p a r t i c i p a t i o n in g o v e r n m e n t , p r o v i d i n g the widest

possible

access

to

social

roles

and

r e w a r d s , . . . rather

than . . . the m o r e d o c t r i n a i r e m e a n i n g of p u b l i c o w n e r s h i p of the m e a n s of p r o d u c t i o n , is w h a t the party [ N E P U ] h a d in m i n d w h e n it p r o c l a i m e d a belief in s o c i a l i s m . " A n d A m i n u h i m s e l f s u g g e s t e d " a socialist c o m m o n w e a l t h . . . in w h i c h there will b e e q u a l o p p o r t u n i t i e s . . . [which will] d o a w a y with v e s t e d i n t e r e s t s . " 1 T h e label " s o c i a l i s t " n e v e r f r i g h t e n e d h i m . H e actually s o u g h t out o r g a n i z a t i o n s w i t h p r o f e s s e d socialist g o a l s a n d in m a n y c a s e s tried to b r e a t h e life into t h e m . O n M a y 2 0 , 1963, h e w r o t e to an o r g a n i z a t i o n called t h e Socialist Youth of N i g e r i a a c c e p t i n g t h e post of chief p a t r o n w i t h p l e a s u r e . T h e stated a i m s of t h e o r g a n i z a t i o n w e r e to e s p o u s e s o c i a l i s m as t h e o n l y path for A f r i c a , to w o r k f o r the unity of all A f r i c a n t r i b e s , a n d to p r o m o t e P a n - A f r i c a n i s m in an i n d e p e n d e n t A f r i c a . A m i n u e n c o u r a g e d the b u d d i n g n e w g r o u p , s u g g e s t i n g w a y s and m e a n s f o r it to f u n c t i o n , f o r h e c o n t i n u a l l y l o o k e d to s t i m u l a t e any o r g a n i z a t i o n that c o u l d w o r k t o w a r d a n y of his n a t i o n a l g o a l s . S o c i a l i s m w a s essentially a m e a n s f o r e x t e n d i n g e d u c a t i o n a n d f o r e l i m i n a t i n g p r i v i l e g e , since o p p o r t u n i t y h a d to b e m a d e e q u a l l y a v a i l a b l e

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to all, regardless of influence or family background. Sophisticated systems or dogma did not greatly interest Aminu the pragmatist. Big industries, such as textile manufacturing, oil, and utilities that involve large investments, he perceived as requiring at the very m i n i m u m joint government and private ownership, with government retaining control. Selective, rapid, and planned development, such as setting up a wool industry in sheep-breeding country, would take place when privilege was eliminated. Communication and education should be spread to rural as well as urban areas. Broad-based, horizontal private investment of internal capit a l — e . g . , compulsory savings—should be used as much as possible in centralized planning for fixed economic goals. He knew and feared the possible effect of the c o m m o n economic paradox of great foreign aid and investment leading to a country's even greater impoverishment. "The only help is self-help; otherwise the country must mortgage its resources to foreigners." 4 Similarly, he felt that spreading political control to women, farmers, youth, and trade unionists, including representation at the cabinet level, could give government the same broad base that compulsory savings and small individual investments give to economic planning. With this relatively uncomplicated approach to government, remaining true to his early goal was the key to Aminu's political orientation, not the tactics of the m o m e n t . The idealistic zeal of the early NKPU years he knew could not withstand the battering of one electoral defeat after another. The non-violent resistance of the early 1950's gave way to "selective resistance to violence" and was followed by a more subdued role during Aminu's parliamentary period in 1949-54 while part of a national coalition government. Alliances, coalitions, direct head-on collisions, local grievances—all had their place in an overall strategy, with a particular tactic attempted when it seemed to have a chance for success. Charges of radicalism or conservatism were raised as events developed. After the electoral losses and crisis of 1965, NEPU sold most of the party vehicles, dismissed their organizers, and retrenched to a skeleton crew. Tactics had changed, but the thread that tied the democrats, the populists, together remained their strategic goal, their revolution. How did Aminu define the core of this revolution? A socialist commonwealth—equal opportunity—do away with vested interests—all nonspecific, no blueprint. But A m i n u , idealist, pragmatist, or politician stuck to his guns. Power to the people, democracy, populism, y e s — a n d ,

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most important of all, eliminate the traditional family compact rule. If democratization of local g o v e r n m e n t succeeds in breaking the e m i r s ' p o w e r and if politicians of good will w h o are not self-seeking take over for and with the people, a revolution will have taken place. And if the base of the revolution is broad and popular, the leadership will be kept hewing to the straight and narrow. T h e ratio of public to private ownership in such a system would no longer be considered a decisive factor. Did A m i n u c h a n g e f r o m radical to moderate and, if so. when and w h y ? This question b e c o m e s m e a n i n g l e s s when considered in the light of these ultimate goals. His political stance, his tactics, shifted with the dem a n d s of the times, during his and his c o u n t r y ' s maturing process. "I a m more interested in the purpose of g o v e r n m e n t than its m e c h a n i c s — though the m e a n s should at least be good e n o u g h to lead to the ends desired," he said to a group of students at the University of Ife in 1968. His pragmatic tactical flexibility was s u m m e d up thusly: " T h e system doesn't have to be pure, but it does have to w o r k . " Again: "To approach the people one must use identifiable m e a n s , c o u c h e d in words and images that they u n d e r s t a n d — a n a l y s i s , simplicity, approachability, that which appeals to them directly. If their local needs can be related to the regional and national needs, ideology will result." 5 A m i n u believed along with other observers that the power of the emirs was decisively broken w h e n the twelve-state structure was introduced into Nigeria. " T h e political decline of the traditional northern leaders began with the January 1966 c o u p . . . . Since then, reforms . . . have sealed [their] fate. . . . T h e emirs have been reduced f r o m a ruling oligarchy to a prestigious traditional elite with limited constitutional powe r s , " said Pauline Baker, political s c i e n t i s t . h T h e new bourgeoisie is heavily laden with d e s c e n d a n t s and relatives of the traditional authorities w h o maintained p o w e r in this way, but it had to be in a new form. T h e emirs w h o have gone along may survive, but in the limited fashion of a constitutional monarch or an Indian m a h a r a j a h . G o w o n and company drew A m i n u , E n a h o r o , Tarka, and A w o l o w o into g o v e r n m e n t at the center and exerted the entire g o v e r n m e n t ' s influence on the military governors of each state. This combination of forces cut into the local power base of the emirs and c h i e f s by decentralizing and broadening the base of local gove r n m e n t by eliminating the E m i r s ' C o u n c i l s , transferring police power and the judiciary to the federal g o v e r n m e n t .

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One conceives of a revolution as either sudden, or total, or both. Unlike the British, who attempted to build a modern society by fusing it onto the old autocratic emirates, while leaving the power structure intact, Aminu remained dedicated to the totality of his revolution. As he originally conceived this, power would be wrested from the ruling class, the masu-sarauta, and placed in the hands of the people. But complete removal of traditional forms no longer seemed so crucial to him—and, by the same token, neither did the speed of the timetable. Kano Under The Hammer of Local Autocracy was the title of Aminu's first real attempt at political writing. Perhaps it was that the fervor of the emancipator had dwindled somewhat, as his friend Sule Katagum suggested at one point, but Aminu became convinced that the hammer had been taken away, lifting his country to a new and higher stage of struggle. He was evidently convinced that this transition of power had already passed the point of no return; thus, his inclination was to continue to encourage local democratic forms, while retaining control at the center—at the time, the Military Government seemed to him to be a proper vehicle to achieve this. Because Aminu was a member of the Federal Executive Committee, while at the same time one of prime contenders for top political office when civilian rule would ultimately return, some inner conflict about the Gowon's nine-point program might have been expected. As a representative of government, he had to promulgate its program. At the same time there was a need to project his own image of Nigeria's future, separate and apart from that of the government. Coalitions and cooperation with those who were not in complete agreement with his ideas were as integral a part of his political existence as his independence of spirit. Ghana's military administration had been able to turn the government back to the civilians within a two-year period, but it was returned to the military not too long afterward. Nigeria's civil war and its continuing ethnic and regional rivalry seemed to preclude such a rapid changeover. A longer period of transition would be needed to permit local authorities to build up the mechanism for the change of power. Nevertheless, Aminu believed that if time went by and no significant dent was made during that period, the nation would suffer a severe loss. He therefore felt it incumbent on himself to speak up in every way possible: in private discussions with leaders, magazine interviews, lectures, pamphlets, speaking en-

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g a g e m e n t s , and so o n , in order to squeeze out as much progress as possible toward the achieving of the nine points as completely and as quickly as possible. Long a proponent of equal opportunity for minority groups and for a breakdown of the larger regions into smaller units, Aminu strongly supported the multi-state structure. However, he vehemently opposed any ethnic basis for this structure. Such institutionalizing of tribal differences and the disparity in size between tribes would raise the same danger of one group d o m i n a t i n g the others which had proved to be the downfall of the first Federal Republic. As he said in D e c e m b e r 1968, " W h a t we have now is a historical c o n n e c t i o n , c o m p a c t n e s s , and administrative convenience." 7 W h e t h e r or not to adjust the n u m b e r of states in the future should be worked out by the individual groups within each state. If disputes arose in this regard, he tended to be on the side of more rather than fewer subdivisions, for he continued to feel that the base of government should be as broad as possible. For an analysis of A m i n u ' s attitude toward Nigeria's political organization back in the early 1970's, one would have to start with the core of his earlier concepts of party organization. During preparations for the constitutional c o n f e r e n c e of 1956, he m a d e it clear that he was concerned about the inter-party strife in other new African nations and urged that Nigerian national unity be maintained at all costs during that critical period. 8 O v e r the years he was clearly disturbed by the disintegration of the ideological base f o r party organization, recognizing that the prevailing regionalization and ethnic orientation was tearing the country into shreds. W h e n A m i n u addressed the House of Parliament in 1964, he said: I d o not agree that the pattern o f d e m o c r a c y in Western society is an ideal pattern. T h e q u e s t i o n o f one-party, two-party, or e v e n a multiparty s y s t e m o f g o v e r n m e n t is not n e c e s s a r i l y a guarantee of the e s s e n c e o f democracy. There is more in the t e m p e r o f society, the e a s e and s m o o t h n e s s o f transition and c h a n g e , the tolerance o f d i f f e r e n c e , e t c . ; t h e s e are the ingredients w h i c h determine the extent of d e m o c racy in a g i v e n country. 9

He obviously remained true to those ideas right up on to the time of his death. To avoid a repetition of the bitter strife of those years, A m i n u seriously considered s o m e f o r m of one-party democracy, but he hastened to add that this should not be i m p o s e d . Guidelines could be worked out re-

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quiring one or more parties to be national in scope, banning all regional or tribal parties. A single national program should be acccptcd by all and the party or parties would be measured against this program. Within each party leadership, allowance could still be m a d e f o r d i f f e r e n c e s in personality and in speed and energy of action. T h e single-party g o v e r n m e n t of Tanzania greatly interested A m i n u , causing him to visit his friend Julius Nyerere, its president, several times before the falling out between their two countries over the Biafra conflict. At the time, Tanzania's one-party system seemed to eliminate s o m e of the a b u s e s of multi-party government (while coincidentally introducing new ones), but not until military g o v e r n m e n t took over in Nigeria did he consider that system as a real possibility for his own country. During the Ironsi regime, Ibrahim I m a m presented a paper to the Kaduna Discussion G r o u p wherein he stated the case for one-party gove r n m e n t . Since the p e o p l e , he said, were not prepared for multi-party democracy, they would d o better with one party organized on a democratic basis. A n y o n e w h o wished should be able to j o i n , but it would have a system akin to d e m o c r a t i c centralism as the prevailing principle (pyramiding of c o m m i t t e e s f r o m the lowest village level to the highest national level, with each c o m m i t t e e e m p o w e r e d to act f o r that below, between congresses). If such a system could have been worked out, Aminu would probably have supported it at that time. Since he was never a stickler for f o r m , however, he would probably have g o n e along with any acceptable system so long as it left room f o r national d e v e l o p m e n t . He felt that if such a national party could be f o r m e d , it should be first by agreement a m o n g the top leaders, then broadened to include e v e r y o n e — i n this way guaranteeing its national character. Even if political organization were not restricted to this one party, such an approach would at least assure it a relatively d o m i n a n t position. T h e way would not be smooth if this procedure were f o l l o w e d , he s u r m i s e d , for strong d i f f e r e n c e s would likely exist a m o n g the most influential leaders, particularly over the degree and type of socialism. S o m e in fact never even professed a belief in socialism in any f o r m . Nevertheless, this still should not present an insurmountable obstacle, since national goals would be the u n i f y i n g force. " I s m s " could be avoided by outlining the desired ideals without placing them in categories. After this w a s d o n e , the issue of how many parties could be settled. T h e leaders of the country in projecting possible f o r m s for future

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g o v e r n m e n t also considered the feasibility of a presidential system. A m i n u , after weighing all factors, though continuing to remain open on the question, tended to feel that tribalism and local loyalties would probably linger for a long time and that it would be difficult for one man to get the backing of the entire country. Rather, the executive head should be chosen by a parliament. He in turn should choose his o w n ministers of g o v e r n m e n t , via alliances, with greater attention paid to gaining broad representation f r o m all sectors, geographic as well as social, rather than to selecting individuals with w h o m he would be most c o m f o r t a b l e — United States-style. Incidentally, related concerns for Aminu were the greater concentration of p o w e r in the hands of an individual rather than a party that is implied in a presidential system and his increased vulnerability to possible assassination or dictatorship. He felt that a successfully organized national party would not necessarily affect the f r a m e w o r k of the federal g o v e r n m e n t . Each elected m e m b e r of a legislative body would still represent a local constituency and function accordingly, whether in a bicameral presidential system or a variation of the parliamentary f o r m . However, the national orientation and goals of a country-wide party would tend to unite the people rather than split them, as had the regionally and ethnically oriented parties of the past. T h e eventual experience of the Second Republic did nothing to dispel this analysis. Although A m i n u ' s relationships with Ibos, both in the pre-war period and during the civil conflict, were already discussed, a few words should be said here about Ibo reintegration in the post-war era. "A reconciliation of the m i n d , " A m i n u said, "must c o m e first, eliminating any feeling of alienation, of being left out of the national planning, whether Ibo or any other ethnic group is involved."" 1 He endeavored to foster such reconciliation through self-help, as for e x a m p l e w h e n , during the early reconstruction period, he helped a group of young Ibo students in the East Central State to regain their pick-up truck from the Rehabilitation C o m mission in o r d e r t o resume the c o m m u n i t y service they had begun. Believing that an individual's fate is determined by himself, rather than viceversa, A m i n u encouraged Ibos to move actively on their own behalf and that of the nation. G r o w i n g segments of Ibo youth, w o m e n , and organizations e n g a g e d in self-help looked for people in national g o v e r n m e n t to w h o m they could turn for fair and considerate treatment. T h e extent of his past associations with Ibos raised the possibility that A m i n u could play a special role in the post-war reintegration process. Historically there was a

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well of good will among Ibos toward Aminu and the disbanded NEPU he once led, and he encouraged this spirit as much as possible. He chose to think that any Ibo hostility toward him in the past was based on the ethnic antagonisms which started in 1966 and culminated in the civil war, and expected that it would be buried with the war in the long run. It was his considered judgment that, although ethnic rivalries would linger for some time, they would gradually wane. This process could be hastened, he believed, first by permitting free movement of all people into all parts of the country and by making schools and other institutions, regardless of their location, available to all groups. The past custom of sabon garis, which isolated people not indigenous to an area, and of separate Ibo, Yoruba, and Hausa schools, should be eliminated—as was done in the Kano Community Commercial School which Aminu sponsored at the time. Second, by shifting the forces of power from the local to the Federal Government, inequities could be corrected much more readily. Roads, schools, and public works, if supported financially by the Federal G o v e r n m e n t , could be allocated fairly. State governments would have to become less parochial and sacrifice some sovereignty to the national interest. Third, the imbalance in the level of education between north and south should be corrected; at the same time, efforts should be continued to raise the general level throughout the country. Aminu tied Ibo reintegration into the idea of national parties and goals to achieve ethnic unity. He felt that Ibos must be welcomed back to the north (where their skills would still be needed) in greater and greater numbers. The question was not primarily jobs. The fact that in the past one-half to three-fourths of the Ibos were involved in private business, in one capacity or another, should, he thought, make it relatively simple to reabsorb them. Although their home base would still be the East Central State, the Ibo of the future could be as much a northerner as a Nupe, Hausa, Fulani, Kanuri, orTiv. If the educational level of the northerner were raised sufficiently, all could compete on equal terms, be they Yoruba, Ibo, Calibari, or Hausa. Aminu of course did not perceive this as a smooth process without serious problems (witness the reception given the Ibos in the early post-war months in Port Harcourt and other areas of the Rivers and South East states). If this new nation-wide value system were permitted to grow, such inequities as the existence of 214 secondary schools in the Western State (population twelve million) and 4 in Kano State (population six million) could and would be corrected. (These fig-

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ures were quoted in 1969-1970. Obviously there have been changes since.) A s for foreign policy, A m i n u felt that n o n a l i g n m e n t was eminently correct for Nigeria, but considered the first Federal Republic's interpretation of this stance as close to scandalous. W h i l e serving as U . N . delegate, he felt that its support of U.S.-led opposition to admitting the People's Republic of C h i n a to the United Nations, its timid and inaudible views on the Vietnam and Rhodesia questions, and its lack of diplomatic and commercial links to countries with centrally planned e c o n o m i e s were hardly nonalignment. A forthright, courageous policy of nonalignment, in solidarity with other African and Asian countries, even to the extent of a joint African c o m m a n d , could yield Nigeria a national prestige c o m m e n s u r a t e with its size, strength, and potential for dignified leadership of the Third World." It is surprising that A m i n u ' s lack of concern for his personal welfare was so all-pervasive. The twin curses of bribery and corruption permeated the inner fiber of the nation; yet he was able to wander in and out of nepotistic and corrupt circumstances without seeming to b e c o m e either contaminated or greatly disturbed. His attitudes toward family and nepotism, where it existed, he explained in this way: I d o w h a t is e x p e c t e d , but m a k e it c l e a r to m y f a m i l y w h a t m y limits a r e . 1 a m m o r e c o n c e r n e d w i t h t h e u n d e r p r i v i l e g e d in t h e f a m i l y — t h e c h i l d r e n , t h e e l d e r l y . [ R e c a l l his f a t h e r ' s e a r l y a d v i c e to g o o u t of his w a y t o h e l p t h o s e least a b l e to h e l p t h e m s e l v e s . ] I f o u n d S u f i ' s sister [a d i s t a n t r e l a t i v e ] a j o b in a t e x t i l e f a c t o r y , but w h e n it c o m e s to M u s t a f a ' s s o n [ A m i n u ' s n e p h e w ] , it's d i f f e r e n t , b e c a u s e M u s t a f a is in a p o s i t i o n to h e l p h i s o w n . "I s e n t s e v e r a l p e o p l e t o M e c c a , but n o t n e c e s s a r i l y f r o m the f a m i l y . R a k a i y a , in J o s , w a s o n e of t h e first t o s u f f e r f o r NEPU. S h e s o l d f o o d in t h e m a r k e t , but n o o n e w o u l d b u y : h e r NPC s o n s m a d e h e r an o u t c a s t . T h e r e w a s a n e e d to b u i l d h e r p r e s t i g e , s o t h e party p r o m i s e d to s e n d h e r to M e c c a . A f t e r t h e c o u p a n d t h e d i s a p p e a r a n c e of the party, / had to fulfill this responsibility. T h e n there was m y old aunt, w h o m m a n y thought of as m y mother. H e r g r a n d f a t h e r called h e r ' H a j i a ' f r o m b i r t h , a n d I h a d t o f u l f i l l his p r o p h e c y [a w o m a n is r e f e r r e d to a s H a j i a if s h e h a s c o m p l e t e d a trip t o M e c c a ] ,

Although many Hausa-Fulani h o u s e h o l d s have very close family interdependency and loyalties, Aminu always felt that his c o m m u n i t y was the nation.

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He remained aware of his family responsibilities, but tried not to permit them to interfere with his political goals. It was not " M y family (or friends) right or w r o n g , " but it was to worship at the altar of national unity and i m p r o v e m e n t — w h e t h e r friend or family, acquaintance or stranger were involved. Nepotism may serve as a sort of built-in social security system, but when one probes deeper, one will find that intratribal loyalties breed intertribal rivalries and this could easily b e c o m e the political division rather than class. Thus, national interest becomes secondary. The other side of that coin is corruption, pure and simple—one is always safer taking bribes from friends and relatives than from strangers. Family loyalty cannot and should not permeate levels of government, Aminu strongly felt, nor should it be confused with corruption. Appeals to tribal loyalty for support should be an offense. Merit, morality, responsibility, and seniority must be the bases for advancement. One might suspect that the proponent of such a social philosophy might tend to be friendless and lonely, but with Aminu the reverse seemed to hold true. Try to visualize, on a Sunday morning, dozens of men seated in a relaxed fashion against the wall outside Aminu's home. Or picture his living room filled with silent or chattering young and old men (and an occasional w o m a n , particularly when he was at home in Lagos). No, he was rarely alone. S o m e certainly came with official entreaties or on business, but others came with none. Many of them just c a m e to listen or to participate in the conversation centering around this little brown-asbrown-can-be (not black) man—casual, informal, yet always alert. Whether he relaxed slumped in the middle of the sofa in the crowded sitting room, picking absent-mindedly at one part of his anatomy or another; whether he sat apart in his library or dining room, in Kano or Lagos, sorting out the questions and problems of those present in groups of no more than f o u r — h e was not alone. As he spoke rapidly, at times approaching the point of stutter, his palms and long graceful fingers opened and closed, and his head nodded for emphases. He felt at one with those engaged in discussion around him and they seemed to feel the same with him. He reserved his hours of solitude, reading, planning, and selfexamination, for the wee hours of the morning, after all his visitors had left. He sat in his library, surrounded by an extensive collection of Fabian Society literature, books on C o m m u n i s m (Chinese, Soviet, British, and Marxist varieties), Islamic and other religious works (even including a bulletin of the Muslim and Druse Division of Israel's Ministry of Religious Affairs), books on the Nazi conception of the law and American

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political c o m m e n t a r y — l i t e r a l l y thousands of v o l u m e s . Or he worked during the early m o r n i n g h o u r s , after he had awakened and before he left for o f f i c e . Normally, four or five hours a night were e n o u g h to sustain him. W h e n Joseph Tarka, then C o m m i s s i o n e r of Transportation, said "Aminuism is beginning to t r i u m p h , " he most assuredly was not implying the beginning of a cult of personality. (If anything, Tarka seemed ready to take on a greater share of the national leadership h i m s e l f . ) Rather, he was trying to convey his feeling that the sum total of A m i n u ' s life was beginning to take shape. No longer were his ideas supported by an isolated, dedicated opposition band, but were b e c o m i n g a stronger force in Nigeria. Tarka and others interviewed almost u n a n i m o u s l y associated this " t r i u m p h " with a universal acceptance of A m i n u ' s long-held national goals, not with any d e m a g o g i c misrepresentations or any undercutting of those goals for opportunistic gain. At the time. Western State C o m m i s s i o n e r of Information Adisa listed A m i n u ' s most characteristic attributes as unflagging nationalism, lack of personal ambition, a forthright and honest humility to those of high or low station, and c o u r a g e . F e d e r a l C o m m i s s i o n e r of Information Anthony Enahoro said of Aminu: " H e was a radical. If he didn't join the NPC, he must have been strongly persuaded [in the other direction], since it was so easy to cross the carpet and benefit personally." And, "I describe myself as centrist, [but] he is decidedly left of center and one of the more p r o g r e s s i v e - m i n d e d . " " Umaru Dikko, who was then C o m m i s s i o n e r of Finance in North-Central State, but w h o went on to b e c o m e a principal string-puller in the Shagari r e g i m e , and ultimately an expatriate in England, and w h o was accused of massive corruption while in o f f i c e , had this to say about A m i n u : " H e accepts his situation and functions, whether leader or no, for ideas are most important to h i m " . l 4 T h e path of the three led them to completely different positions, but at the time they had found three different ways of saying the same thing. A m i n u remained a m a n devoted to ideas and people as he saw t h e m , mature enough to approach national problems soberly, intelligent enough to address himself in understandable and popular form to the c o m m o n e r or to the educated activist elite, and courageous e n o u g h to face up to these problems where others might have hesitated. "We would still be far f r o m learning anything f r o m . . . crises, unless the ruling class, in working out the constitution is prepared to surrender p o w e r to or share it with the people, if that class does not want to lose

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all it has and plunge the nation into disaster," said B. O. Adebisi, lecturer at the University of Ibadan. 1 5 Aminu's approach to these abovementioned crises seemed to have been just that. ' A n y o n e who wants to be a leader must be the servant, not the boss, of those he wants to serve," Aminu responded to an interviewer in August 1970. 16 As Nigeria responded to the inexorable pressure upon it for change to modernity, whether evolutionary or revolutionary in form, Aminu predictably continued his historic role of catalyst—cajoling, guiding, helping to push or pull the nation into its new suit of clothes, waking the people to their newly emerging responsibilities as well as their independent rights. With enlightenment as a base, he continued trying to eliminate alienation and social immobility born of ignorance, and to help his fellow Nigerians emerge with thoughts that sang free of past chains. He had a way of being the people's servant both inside and outside the government: as an individual (up to the early 1950's); as a leader in pure opposition (1951-1959); as a leader of a party in coalition at the center (1959-1964); as an individual again during a regime devoid of politics (Ironsi); as a leader within the highest civilian policymaking body of military government (Gowon); and, finally, as a leader of a party contending for the highest office during the Second Republic.

-17Aminuism, Where To? In the context of Nigeria, A m i n u K a n o was almost in limbo during the last decade of his life, 1973-1983. He d i d n ' t belong to the old world of sarakuna and talakawa, of traditional leaders and their clients; nor did he belong to the newer, self-oriented elite, w h o regarded personal status (financial, educational, or otherwise) as the only m e a s u r e of success and progress in the nation. Instead, he had fashioned a niche for himself in another m o d e , neither accepting the traditional, nor attempting to change its face by substituting a d i f f e r e n t , more m o d e r n exploitative class relationship. His early motivations were tied in to his position in the old hierarchy and his father's experience within that f r a m e w o r k . (Although Acting Chief Alkali of K a n o for a brief period, his father Yusufu was passed over and never given the permanent appointment due h i m , apparently because of his principles and stubborn i n d e p e n d e n c e of action.) A m i n u ' s response to the rigid traditional structure and his relative status within it was c o m bative and challenging. He had never flirted with the generally accepted m a n n e r of a d v a n c e m e n t , i . e . , through clientage and d e f e r e n c e to those born into positions of higher status and authority. Rather, he struck out against this sharply d e f i n e d , foreordained classification of one's role. His a n i m u s was translated into the struggle for the liberation of all w h o had to live under the yoke placed upon t h e m by the hierarchical stratification. Despite his dedication to this struggle throughout the ensuing years, he never completely shook off his early influences, even after his basic goal of stripping the traditional leadership of p o w e r was achieved. Hundreds of years of history and culture need not be thrown out in the n a m e of progress. W h e n Erik Erikson wrote that G a n d h i was always "cautious in leaving intact ancient f u n d a m e n t s for which he had no i m m e d i a t e revolutionary alternatives,'" he might just as well have been referring to A m i n u Kano.

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M a n y of A m i n u ' s followers in the PRP didn't see this complexity of his motivations and ties to the past. They saw politics only in "practical" terms, either as an approach to power or as a class war, requiring all m e m bers of society to choose sides as "revolutionaries," m e m b e r s of the working class or bourgeoisie, as middle class, elite, etc. T h e younger, more radical elements gave the past short shrift a n d , along with it, A m i n u ' s revolutionary role in shaping it. The fact that he played a key role in the nation's shift f r o m semi-feudal d o m i n a n c e to entrepreneurial control mattered little to them in their analysis of current class relationships. General G o w o n was aware of these subtle influences: " S o m e of A m i n u ' s disciples felt he wasn't radical e n o u g h — n o t as antitraditional rulers as he was in earlier d a y s , " and in the same interview, "In the North and Nigeria both, A m i n u was associated with new revolutionary political ideas—socialist inclination, in spite of keeping strong traditional ties, without accepting the old relationships." 2 Recognizing this lack of strict class orientation in Mallam A m i n u ' s politics, John Paden in his latest book phrases it this way: "Although his opponents frequently stretched and in spots ignored the old rules, A m i n u did not. His challenge was real and revolutionary . . . but was fought within the rules for battle laid d o w n by Hausa-Fulani tradition."" Not the rules laid down by Karl Marx or V. I. Lenin. O v e r the years, w h e n e v e r the opportunity arose, Aminu stated this position clearly and unequivocally. " O u r ideology will bring about change through persuasion, not violence," 4 he said, speaking for the party. Time after time, quote after quote, he spoke out in this vein: "We have followed Nixon's fall with serious consideration . . . but w e all agreed that the American system of g o v e r n m e n t is really something to cherish." 5 A f t e r the traditional leaders were shorn of power, his revolution bec a m e simply a thrust toward g o v e r n m e n t that would truly represent the people's w i s h e s , coupled with the unfettered right to recall any of their leaders w h o had strayed f r o m the path. T h e degree to which g o v e r n m e n t should own or control the m e a n s of production, he felt, would fall into place and be determined through pragmatic choice that best suited the nation at a given t i m e — s u r e l y his own definition of socialism, and a far cry f r o m the left wing radicals outside his party as well as within. ". . . t o Zaria f o r seminar on political program with intellectuals, Dr. Yusufu and confreres—anarchistic and hard line Marxists. T h e y don't want return to

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civil rule soon. . . . T h e y prefer cleaning up, even if military stays ten years o r m o r e , " reads his diary of S e p t e m b e r 18, 1975. H e felt that unless people in control have the support of the masses, they won't last. Unless p e a c e f u l c h a n g e of g o v e r n m e n t is permitted, and opposition accepted, explosions and coups will continue to occur. Unlike the United States, which was built on people w h o had escaped to freed o m , Nigeria's age-old institutions were interrupted for seventy-five years o f colonialism and then followed by the attempt to forge a modern nation u p o n foreign institutions. 6 In m o d e r n t e r m s , this was not very revolutionary sounding. For A m i n u , society was not codified, nor did it behave according to fixed laws or a d o g m a , though it would continue to c h a n g e for better and for w o r s e in unpredictable ways. We can best function by initiating relatively short-run socially desirable changes. Like G a n d h i , his was "a loyalty not to abstractions but to human beings. He didn't think out his ideas, he w o r k e d them out." 7 H e never really defined his own socialism, but w h e n s o m e o n e c a m e to him or his m o v e m e n t categorized as liberal, capitalist, socialist, or c o m m u n i s t , so long as that person was ready to align himself or herself on the side of the people, to grant them a voice in determining their fate and equal opportunity; so long as he or she was ready to serve the people rather t h a n to dominate t h e m , A m i n u was ready to join hands. His was a constant tug of war between caution and fervor; prepared to give up anything required to achieve his goals, he would rather discuss and moderate. Battles were there to be f o u g h t , but temperamentally he would have preferred t o sit at the peace table before the war b e g a n . In politics, this might have been considered naive, for performance in the arena is a far cry f r o m self-definition and a general statement of principles. W h e n A m i n u d i e d , practically u n a n i m o u s praise was heaped upon h i m , whether or not the eulogizer c a m e f r o m the opposite c a m p , or believed in his precepts. A m i n u was on the side of the angels. Social forces were just too c o m p l e x . There are too many contradictions involved to think that events could be predicted, as in the classic certainty of the physical sciences that water will boil at 100 degrees C e n tigrade at atmospheric pressure. This h o w e v e r didn't preclude A m i n u ' s establishing "desirable" criteria and goals and trying to find m e t h o d s to a c h i e v e t h e m . To h i m , these precepts were relatively uncomplicated and straightforward, in spite of the difficulties in attaining t h e m .

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AFRICAN REVOLUTIONARY Yet, wasn't his life an essential s t a t e m e n t of the very simple prin-

ciples

enunciated

here,

whether

called

socialism

or

democratic

h u m a n i s m or left liberalism? It couldn't g o d o w n as oriented toward u t o p i a n i s m either if, as did A m i n u , o n e regarded politics as a process and a c o n t i n u i n g s t r u g g l e to achieve these s i m p l e ,

basic

prerequisites.

T h r o u g h it all, he w a s universally r e c o g n i z e d as a friend of the m a s s e s — not o n l y the t a l a k a w a in the North with w h o m his life w a s so closely intert w i n e d , but those in the south of Nigeria t o o , as well as in the r e m a i n d e r of A f r i c a , and e v e n the w o r l d . At various t i m e s he had been close to N y e r e r e . N k r u m a h . G o l d a Meir, and K h a d a f i , a n d on d o w n the line. S h e h u U s m a n D a n Fodio and M a h a t m a G a n d h i h a d served as role m o d e l s , yet he had n e v e r restricted his tactics to rigid a d h e r e n c e to religiosity, n o r to n o n - v i o l e n c e . He did use their p r i n c i p l e s to achieve an i m p r o v e m e n t in the condition of the m a s s e s . T h i s s i m p l y w a s and is A m i n u i s m . H e d e n o u n c e d militarism as contrary to the people's interests, but that didn't stop h i m f r o m f u n c t i o n i n g within the limits of military g o v e r n m e n t w h e n he h a d to. O n e - p a r t y g o v e r n m e n t w a s not rejected out of h a n d ; rather, he saw it as a n o t h e r possible m e a n s of a c h i e v i n g j u s t i c e , d e v e l o p m e n t , and e q u i t a b l e distribution. Did this m e a n that he had betrayed the m a s s e s at any point? O r that his radicalism h a d been m o d i f i e d ? Did he b e c o m e m o r e p r a g m a t i c as he m a t u r e d ? P e r h a p s his tactics c h a n g e d , but his u l t i m a t e goal of f r e e d o m and well b e i n g f o r all, his d e v o t i o n to the m a s s e s w a s u n f l a g g i n g and unc o m p r o m i s i n g — w h e t h e r or riot he articulated in detail the political theories that w e r e inherent in his strategy o r tactics, or w h e t h e r it w a s in the very m a n n e r that he c o n d u c t e d his political (or for that matter, any other aspect of his) life. A m i n u ' s m i l d - m a n n e r e d yet f o r c e f u l a p p r o a c h was a long way f r o m the literature w h i c h e m a n a t e d f r o m PRP sources d u r i n g the S e c o n d R e p u b lic and the p e r i o d leading up to i t — u s u a l l y sharply radical in t o n e , borr o w i n g freely f r o m M a r x i s t terminology, a n d p u s h i n g a strong c o n f r o n t a tional position quite d i f f e r e n t f r o m A m i n u ' s , b o t h in m a n n e r and stance. " T h e real e n e m y

is the ultra-right w i n g UPN, e s p o u s i n g

capitalism . . . exploitation

by m u l t i n a t i o n a l

companies,

undiluted Israel

and

Z i o n i s m . . . . " " T h e self-styled p r o g r e s s i v e c a m p is a right w i n g fascist c a m p , " 8 r e a d s a basic party b o o k l e t .

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Where To?

355

West Africa Magazine, when referring to the religious riots in Kano at the time, wrote that a seemingly irresponsible and unfounded charge by the PRP that the "Mossad [Israeli Intelligence] infiltrated their mercenaries to disrupt peace and thus lead to the overthrow of the federal government, certainly seems improbable. . . This literature was produced by a segment of the more literate, better-educated cadres in the party, and basically represented their own thinking, not that of Aminu and the masses who followed him so loyally. These latter folk knew him not as a sloganeering phrase-monger, but as a courageous leader who had stood consistently against the autocrats, whether during the era of the traditional authority, the military, or the First and Second Republics. "We have a picture of the Mallam of the colonial era; during the First Republic; Mallam of the military; and Mallam of the Second Republic. . . . Yet running through all of these was the same strength of character and conviction, with a definite philosophy, who acted . . . in accordance with the highest dictates of his conscience." 1 " When individuals within this leadership group tried to stretch their media approach by using the same militant verbiage to wean the masses from Aminu, they succeeded in creating havoc in the ranks of the cadres, but fell by the wayside in the long haul. When the chips were down, Aminu was able to call the shots and keep the party in line, for it was his charismatic, direct ties to the people that were almost its total strength. However, Aminu's moral positions coupled with his ability to come up with pragmatic responses to particular issues was attenuated in the last year or two of his life. By then physical and psychological barriers had arisen so that the radical press releases and statements in the party often went unchallenged. Nevertheless, he remained confident to the end that he would prevail at the critical points. "The people trust me, not you . . . therefore I make decisions," was his attitude, said his dear friend M. D. Yusufu." One senses that the lack of trust between Aminu and this group within the leadership was fed from both sides. The opportunism which so dominated the entire nation was certainly a strong motivating factor for the lieutenants in the PRP, but Aminu did guard jealously his direct ties to the people. This gave him an appeal and power independent of any intermediaries which he could wield for or against the radical group, depending upon what he considered the correct position on any issue. As lieuten-

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ants u n d e r t h e s e c o n d i t i o n s , they c o u l d n e v e r d e v e l o p a p o w e r b a s e of their o w n ; they c o u l d only b e r e f l e c t i o n s of h i m , his r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s , f o r his c h a r i s m a t i c a p p e a l was not t r a n s f e r a b l e to any one or m o r e of t h e m . T h e y w e r e s u p p o r t e d e n t h u s i a s t i c a l l y w h e n in the field o r r u n n i n g for o f f i c e , but the p e o p l e were v o t i n g f o r A m i n u the individual in e a c h and every i n s t a n c e . In o t h e r N i g e r i a n parties, politics w a s built a r o u n d the loyalty of n e i g h b o r s , c l a n s m e n , and fellow villagers to a leading citizen of that local constituency. E a c h s u c h leader c o u l d m o r e or less freely take his s u p p o r t ers with h i m into o n e party or the o t h e r and wield a p r o p o r t i o n a t e d e g r e e of i n f l u e n c e . T h i s p y r a m i d i n g n e v e r took p l a c e in A m i n u s party, for any d e f e c t ing individual c o u l d take no m o r e than the small g r o u p of clients w h o h a d b e e n b e n e f i t t i n g directly f r o m their a s s o c i a t i o n with their p a t r o n . T h e n e v e r - r e a l l y - r e s o l v e d inner d i s e q u i l i b r i u m w h i c h existed might well h a v e b e e n a strong f a c t o r in A m i n u ' s inability to build a m o r e e f f e c t i v e o r g a n i z a t i o n , t h o u g h u n d e r the c i r c u m s t a n c e s e x i s t i n g in political N i g e r i a at the t i m e , it w a s q u i t e u n d e r s t a n d a b l e . G o v e r n o r R i m i ' s d e f e c t i o n had c o m e u n d e r the m o s t f a v o r a b l e c i r c u m s t a n c e s f o r h i m : H e had all the p o w e r of K a n o State in his h a n d s , yet h e w a s u n a b l e to attract a s i g n i f i c a n t part of the m a s s e s a w a y f r o m w h a t c o n t i n u e d to be p e r c e i v e d of as A m i n u ' s M o v e m e n t e v e n a f t e r his d e a t h . T h e s t r u g g l e b e t w e e n the c l a s s - c o n s c i o u s and c l a s s - o r i e n t e d left w i n g intellectuals in the PRP and the n o less militant g r o u p led by A m i n u , w h i c h c a r e d little for d o g m a but s t o o d for a p e a c e f u l c h a n g e to p e o p l e ' s c o n t r o l , a l s o m a n i f e s t a t e d itself in a related but separate b a t t l e — t h a t f o r party e m p h a s i s on K a n o State or the n a t i o n . Of c o u r s e the party stood f o r the unity of s t r u g g l e for both state and n a t i o n , but c l a s h i n g forces reg a r d e d the p a r t y t h r o u g h d i f f e r e n t e y e s and w a n t e d to m a r s h a l l its limited r e s o u r c e s to c o n c e n t r a t e on o n e or the other. In d e s c r i b i n g the g r o u p o r i e n t e d t o w a r d c o n c e n t r a t i o n on K a n o , Ali A b d u l l a h put it this w a y : " A m i n u t a u g h t t h e m reading and w r i t i n g o v e r the y e a r s . T h e y u n d e r s t o o d h i m w e l l , and w e r e able to m a n i p u l a t e h i m . T h e y a l w a y s g a i n e d f r o m the a s s o c i a t i o n , w e r e a l w a y s o n the s c e n e , and w e r e his e y e s and e a r s , and . . .

it w a s this g r o u p that i n f l u e n c e d h i m

away f r o m national l e a d e r s h i p to b r i n g h i m back to K a n o w h e r e they c o u l d c o n t i n u e their i n f l u e n c e . " 1 2 M a n y of t h e s e p o o r l y e d u c a t e d , yet e m i n e n t l y a m b i t i o u s s u p p o r t e r s in K a n o w e r e t h o u g h t to h a v e s o m e w h a t s t r o n g e r roots a m o n g the m a s s e s

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and might have been able to winnow away a more appreciable group of supporters than G o v e r n o r Rimi, had they so c h o s e n , but they shrewdly understood A m i n u ' s guru-like status and continued to profess loyalty up to his death. This K a n o group represented one aspect of A m i n u ' s ties to the traditional past. During the struggles of talakawa versus sarakuna (traditional leaders) and the British overlords, they were s o m e w h a t effective because of their plebian origins. As hangovers f r o m the old w o r l d , however, they were considerably less so. They had little sophistication in dealing with people outside of their own culture and lacked g o v e r n m e n t and civil service experience. With these limitations, any move A m i n u m a d e toward a national role f o r himself, or any political grouping he h e a d e d , aroused insecurity in them; but it was the introduction of educated leadership, whether f r o m southern Nigeria or f r o m K a n o and the north, that threatened t h e m most. Their influence would be denied them if the authority of a national or even a state party apparatus were superimposed over t h e m without A m i n u as their protective shield. In a way, to them, ideology itself represented a rival force, for they regarded A m i n u ' s influence with the masses as nontransferrable. Ideology has a discipline and force of its own outside of personal c h a r i s m a . Since it can be used as a w e a p o n most effectively by the educated and sophisticated, the Kano g r o u p of veterans had n o resort but to fall back on their old personal ties with A m i n u , even while he was preoccupied with national problems. They couldn't deal otherwise with an ideologically oriented cadre capable of taking over the governmental and administrative j o b s to which they themselves might aspire. A m i n u had constantly exhorted the "elitized" educated a m o n g the party leaders to strengthen their ties with the neighborhood people, but in Nigeria the g a p was wide in attitude as well as i n c o m e . This w e a k n e s s in turn tended to restrict their activities to inner party w o r k . It isolated t h e m and was exploited by the uneducated would-be leadership to keep the intruders away f r o m Aminu and the masses. To achieve their e n d s , when populist d e m a g o g y and a carefully honed system of clientage wasn't e n o u g h , they could a u g m e n t their armam e n t a r i u m by maligning the intruders or by using threats a n d , ultimately, intimidation and force. T h e y used subtle m e a n s at times, brazen thuggery at others, but most often all of these w e a p o n s were c o m b i n e d . T h e educated e l e m e n t , whether motivated by similar self-serving goals or not, were better equipped to achieve social benefits f o r the people

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in the political process. But their ability to produce a convincing e n o u g h mix of deeds and words to sustain the loyalty of an electorate couldn't be demonstrated very well if control of the party was denied them by these means. By concentrating its efforts on K a n o State, where A m i n u ' s c h a r i s m a and mass base could be counted on for victory, the power of this g r o u p with its old world traditional way of doing things could be stretched to its limit. By neglecting the rest of the nation, control of the national party apparatus would fall into their hands anyway, once their position of d o m i nance in K a n o w a s secured. While A m i n u was alive, this direction had to be carefully camouflaged, for A m i n u ' s sights were always set beyond K a n o and were never on the mere achievement of power. Power was a weapon to gain one's goals, never a goal in itself. T h e success of this group's tactics might well have explained their continuing long-term influence on A m i n u , too, as well as why he never stomped down on them even though he recognized the unreliable nature of their support. A m i n u ' s ties to both the past and the future had him vacillating back and forth between his h o m e base in K a n o and his national base, generally in L a g o s . As a national leader, while serving as a c o m m i s s i o n e r in the G o w o n g o v e r n m e n t and a f t e r w a r d , his was a more dignified, far-seeing i n v o l v e m e n t , while in K a n o his affairs were rather more like nit-picking. He was c o m f o r t a b l e in both roles, but he did feel quite at h o m e with what he saw as his m a s s b a s e — t h e people back in K a n o , both the masses and his immediate coterie of followers. Here he placed great e m p h a s i s on personal loyalty, which w h e n placed alongside his d e e p ties to his past, m o v e d and influenced his decisions. " M u s a Musawa a great comfort to me and my family. Aminu Dantata has also done what any good man would d o to sustain us . . . nothing but gratitude," reads his diary (January 1, 1981). Here his organizational function b e c a m e mostly that of an arbiter of disputes and senior advisor. This role, placing h i m in the u n c o m f o r t a b l e position of making choices where there were no really clear-cut solutions and often alienating one group or the other, represented a nearly fatal w e a k n e s s in the party. " W h e n fire w a s small, A m i n u didn't talk. W h e n the fire grew, it was already out of control", 1 3 said A h m a d u Trader. It also reflected A m i n u ' s long-standing inability to c o m e to grips with the gap between his intellectual sympathizers and the m a s s e s w h o followed him so faithfully. It grew

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more so as his illness took its toll in his last few years. It b e c a m e , "If you want me involved, O K , but otherwise you g o your way." 1 4 T h u s , he resolved most conflicts almost by default and hoped they would work themselves out. But the Rimi split, the controversial role that Ikoku played, and the troubled conflict involving B a k i n - Z u w o ' s seizure of control of the party apparatus in Kano almost guaranteed that the concentration on individual p o w e r would engulf the PRP and subject it to the same assault on principle that inundated all other parties. On the one hand, intellectuals were attracted to Aminu because of his total dedication to the people. On the other h a n d , as M. T. Waziri points out: " T h e talakawa, or northern masses had infinite faith in him and would have followed him a n y w h e r e . At one point I told M a l l a m that I was frightened. . . . They thought he was G o d . " 1 5 A m i n u ' s appeal to devotees in K a n o and to a lesser extent in K a d u n a and Bauchi had grown in intensity to the point of reverence. W h y didn't the spark of this flame spread to the educated elite and masses in the other states? Armed with a consistent ideology and reasonably apt tactics, he was unable still to bring together these two groups throughout the nation, to weld them into the organizing force that would gain his ultimate goal of " P o w e r to the P e o p l e . " Was this basic, never-resolved conflict the result of A m i n u ' s inability to deal with the sparring forces, or was it the reason why he was stymied? T h o u g h f r i e n d s and e n e m i e s of A m i n u understood that he was truly o p p o s e d to self-aggrandizement and status as a goal unto itself, its true extent was never really grasped by those with w h o m he dealt on a national scale, or w h o had not had personal contact with h i m . "Aminu didn't want to be p r e s i d e n t , " said M . T. Waziri. " H e believed that he had a mission, but not necessarily to be president. He ran k n o w i n g that he would not w i n , but wanted to hold the party together. He wasn't ruthless e n o u g h to be president." 1 6 Perhaps not, but with him as core, he h o p e d to have others serve in o f f i c e as models f o r others to emulate in the course of building a national party of the future. T h e southern leaders w h o m a d e the pilgrimage to K a n o to pay respects at the time of his death were aghast and disbelieving when they actually saw, first hand, how a man of A m i n u ' s stature was living. They had thought that this " m a n of the p e o p l e " stance was posturing, at least in part, as was true of most other w o u l d - b e leaders. T h o s e w h o were aware of the reality and depth of A m i n u ' s convic-

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tions interpreted this o r i e n t a t i o n of his in d i v e r s e w a y s . S t a n l e y M a c e b u h t h o u g h t that it r e f l e c t e d an u n w o r l d l i n e s s that ill-befitted a w o u l d - b e political leader. "I w o u l d i m p l o r e h i m . . . to be d o n e w i t h t h i n g s gove r n m e n t a l and r e m a i n for us . . . that c o n s t a n t star of c o n s c i e n c e and c o m p a s s i o n to w h i c h w e m i g h t look in t i m e s of stress a n d uncertainty." 1 7 W h e n his party, the PRP, ran into d i f f i c u l t y with i n t e r n e c i n e p r o b l e m s and i n - f i g h t i n g , a point of v i e w akin to this w a s e v e n e x p r e s s e d by m a n y of his f r i e n d s . " H i s m o s t e f f e c t i v e role w a s that in o p p o s i t i o n , as a ' r e v o l u t i o n a r y , ' " said his c o n f i d a n t , M . D. Y u s u f u . ' * T h e tale of h o w he w o u l d picket his o w n o f f i c e if he a g r e e d with the protesters ( u s u a l l y attributed to P r i m e M i n i s t e r A b u b a k a r T a f a w a B a l e w a ) w a s q u o t e d d o z e n s of t i m e s , a l m o s t a l w a y s in an a d m i r i n g t o n e . F r i e n d s u s e d it to illustrate h o w loyal h e r e m a i n e d to the m a s s e s ; e n e m i e s to illus trate h o w f o o l i s h and i n e f f e c t i v e he w a s . But the i m a g e that w a s most w i d e s p r e a d a m o n g b o t h the h i g h and low caste was illustrated by the u b i q u i t o u s r e s p o n s e to inquiries by the a u t h o r t h r o u g h o u t t h e c o u n t r y during the 1979 election c a m p a i g n . " A m i n u is by far the b e s t c a n d i d a t e but he d o e s n ' t stand a c h a n c e of victory. T h e r e f o r e my vote is g o i n g to [NPN, NPP, e t c . ] , " d e p e n d i n g on the section of the c o u n t r y the q u e s t i o n w a s asked. Illustrated here is the w i d e s p r e a d p e r c e p t i o n that A m i n u , t h o u g h very well m e a n i n g , w a s b e i n g b y - p a s s e d politically b e c a u s e : (1) his c o n viction that individual a n d c o u n t r y c o u l d j o i n f o r c e s to better t h e m s e l v e s t h r o u g h c o m m u n a l e f f o r t j u s t w o u l d n ' t w o r k , and (2) the state of t h e national p s y c h e w a s such that any s i g n i f i c a n t e f f o r t to s t e m N i g e r i a ' s h e a d long drive t o w a r d a t h o r o u g h l y c o r r u p t society w a s d o o m e d to fail in that p a r t i c u l a r era of history. M a c e b u h ' s s u g g e s t i o n that A m i n u s h o u l d be seen as " o n e w h o took to politics the s a m e moral vision [and fervor, one m i g h t a d d ] that is norm a l l y a s s o c i a t e d w i t h the r e l i g i o u s life"' 1 ' hits the m a r k , but d o e s n ' t add r e s s the q u e s t i o n of w h y M a c e b u h t h o u g h t this " m o r a l v i s i o n " c o u l d not b e translated into practical politics. M a h a t m a G a n d h i , t o o , a t t e m p t e d to c o m b i n e a m o r a l f o r c e with practical politics, not by s t a n d i n g for o f f i c e but by p u s h i n g i n s t e a d f o r f a v o r e d c a n d i d a t e s w h o r e p r e s e n t e d to h i m the i m p l e m e n t a t i o n of his p o l i c i e s . O n e w o n d e r s if h e w a s m o r e s u c c e s s f u l than A m i n u . If t h e criterion is that his land w a s the first m a j o r c o l o n y to a c h i e v e i n d e p e n d e n c e f r o m the British E m p i r e in this m o d e r n e r a , or that h e h i m s e l f a c h i e v e d w o r l d - w i d e a c c l a i m , he w a s . But if j u d g e d by h o w c l o s e l y he a p p r o a c h e d

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the a c h i e v e m e n t o f his moral g o a l s , there is s o m e q u e s t i o n a s to w h e t h e r Gandhi w a s any m o r e s u c c e s s f u l than A m i n u . In a letter t o M a l l a m A m i n u b a c k in D e c e m b e r 1 9 6 9 , the a u t h o r c o m p a r e d t h e t w o in the f o l l o w i n g t e r m s : Dear Aminu: I a m currently reading and a n n o t a t i n g t w o G a n d h i b i o g r a p h i e s and a m very m u c h taken with the c o m p a r i s o n of o n e M a l l a m A m i n u and the o t h e r M a h a t m a G a n d h i . You have told m e of the i n f l u e n c e he had on you d u r i n g y o u r years as a student in L o n d o n and subsequently, but the m o r e I read the m o r e I sense the p r o f u n d i t y of that i n f l u e n c e . T h e r e is of course the o b v i o u s c o m p a r i s o n of life-styles. He t o o s u b o r d i n a t e d his body, e v e r y t h i n g to o n e central p u r p o s e ; the liberation of the spirit and the u p l i f t i n g of all p e o p l e . F o o d , c o m f o r t , o s t e n t a t i o n , all were m e a n i n g l e s s . A l t h o u g h religious, his was a liberal interpretation of the Written Word, rather than f u n d a m e n t a l i s t , and w a s basically a deeply moral c o d e . T h e r e are the t e c h n i q u e s he e m p l o y e d to gain political e n d s . He a c c e p t e d the best in p e o p l e as the ultimate reality in their lives; f o r g i v e n e s s and trust of all, f r i e n d as well as f o e — f r e e i n g the soul and g a i n i n g self-respect through e d u c a t i o n — t h e use of n o n - v i o l e n c e as a t e c h n i q u e , but never n o n - r e s i s t a n c e . I could g o on and o n . T h e similarities are so striking as to s h o c k m e . O n e possible d i f f e r e n c e is o b s e r v a b l e t h o u g h . W h i l e G a n d h i s e e m i n g l y had to r e m a k e himself in the i m a g e w h i c h he c o n c e i v e d for h i m s e l f , A m i n u s o m e h o w fitted e f f o r t l e s s l y into the m o l d . Is this not s o ? T h e r e are other d i f f e r e n c e s too. G a n d h i ' s great c o n c e n t r a t i o n w a s on the m e a n s , A m i n u ' s on the e n d . S i n c e A m i n u saw the impracticability of restricting political tactics to n o n - v i o l e n c e a l o n e , at t i m e s he s t e p p e d b e y o n d this to see that s e l f - d e f e n s e built selfdignity. Selective n o n - v i o l e n c e or selective v i o l e n c e as n e e d e d , but a l w a y s l a c k i n g in v e n g e a n c e as a m o t i v e . All of this is s w i m m i n g t h r o u g h m y h e a d , well b e y o n d w h a t I h a v e put d o w n h e r e — b u t it should s u f f i c e to start you o f f on a d i s c u s sion of the i n f l u e n c e of G a n d h i ' s t h o u g h t s on y o u — H o w y o u h a v e g o n e b e y o n d and h o w you are r e i n f o r c e d by h i m . Affectionately Alan If a n y t h i n g , the t h i r t e e n - a n d - a - h a l f y e a r s that h a v e e l a p s e d s i n c e that c o m p a r i s o n w a s m a d e h a v e f u r t h e r v a l i d a t e d that a s s e s s m e n t . T h e p a r a l l e l s are m a n y , e n o u g h to fill a n o t h e r v o l u m e . N e h r u s a i d at o n e p o i n t

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that what Gandhi accomplished for India was ''a psychological c h a n g e , almost as if s o m e expert in psycho-analytic method had probed d e e p into the patient's past, found the origins of his c o m p l e x e s , e x p o s e d them to view, and thus rid him of that b u r d e n . ' " 9 This observation regarding the psychologist-patient relationship in the psycho-analytic method as applied to Gandhi and the Indian people seems to be equally applicable to A m i n u ' s relationship to the Nigerians. In these instances, subjecting an antagonist to a view of his own inner conflicts is expected to instill the courage to change through exposure of his latent capacity to act in a moral fashion, rather than c o n f r o n t i n g him with his less laudable motives and actions. T h e exposure of the self to full view is meant to open the way to an awakening followed by a selftransformation. Using these techniques, both the M a h a t m a and the M a l l a m have proven that they were able to m o v e men and w o m e n profoundly, but again, there still remains the question of its political effect. Stanley M a c e b u h said pointedly that "[ A m i n u ] was regarded by his colleagues as an outsider, in whose presence it was difficult to be c y n i c a l . " : H T h i s said ever so much about A m i n u ' s intensity of purpose and clear-eyed perception of where he wanted to go. T h e question remains: C a n this degree of concentration on purpose ever achieve its goals or will mankind always c o m p r o m i s e and lose many of its goals and much of its impetus en route? It is interesting to speculate why neither the M a h a t m a nor the Mallam were better able to transform this tremendous inner force into political victory for their cause. Perhaps it was the limitation imposed by the tactic of non-violence itself, since its goals are not usually the achievement of power. However, if p o w e r b e c o m e s a possibility, how d o e s one establish or maintain order? Perhaps also this was the reason people like M a c e b u h and M . D . Yusufu saw M a l l a m A m i n u as most effective in transition periods, as a revolutionary f r o m the outside, or as a moral f o r c e — the " C o n s c i e n c e of N i g e r i a " — a n d not as a presidential candidate. G a n d h i wrote six months before his death: "I a m being told to retire to the H i m a l a y a s . Everybody is eager to garland my p h o t o s and s t a t u e s — nobody really wants to follow my advice." 2 1 Did not A m i n u f a c e this d i c h o t o m y of adulation on the one hand and an image of a man with his head in the clouds on the other? But A m i n u seemed to recognize almost instinctively the apparent limitations of Satyagraha, or Soul Force. In his search for the people's

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way out, he rejected the rigid, inflexible moral arrogance of sectarian radicals on the left and that of the religious f u n d a m e n t a l i s t s on the right, with the unprincipled plunderers of the nation in b e t w e e n , yet he had to c o m e up with a n s w e r s and m e t h o d that didn't introduce a moral arrogance of their o w n . Was it that "the political choice lay not between violence and non-violence, but between the disciplined use of violence, free f r o m 'moralizing and irrational riot'"? 2 2 It was pointed out in the original text of this book that A m i n u didn't disapprove so much of the S a r d a u n a s ' strong m e t h o d s , but it was what he did with his power that roused his objections. M e a n s and ends once again. Faced with the hard choices, A m i n u tried to shift g r o u n d , concentrating on his goals, not on how to achieve them. This did give him a degree of flexibility that non-violent techniques lacked. Hadn't one of his life models, Shehu U s m a n Dan Fodio, used aggressive tactics to achieve p o w e r ? But his very nature drew him back to gentler pursuits. Everforgiving and never vindictive, he couldn't elude his pervasive conviction that his o p p o n e n t s had to be " w e a n e d f r o m error by patience and sympathy, not crushed. . . . That Satyagraha a s s u m e s a beneficent interaction between contestants, with a view to their ultimate reconciliation. Violence, insults and super-heated propaganda obstruct this view." : < Moreover, adds Christopher L a s c h , " N o n - v i o l e n c e . . . is the only politics that, instead of dividing people, seeks to reconcile t h e m , while at the same time pursuing revolutionary objectives. It does this by recognizing the humanity of the adversary, and by seeking to shame him rather than to exterminate him." 2 4 A m i n u did have a sense that to be in or approaching p o w e r required different tactics than those in opposition. He had his high and his low points, but at the end he was struggling not to maintain his personal relationship to the people, but to recoup f r o m the backward steps and the battering he was forced to face en route to the higher national morality that was his elusive long-term goal. H e , like G a n d h i , still retained the intense devotion of millions, but he was sorely frustrated that the intermediate leadership was not gobbling up these same goals and m e t h o d s . A m i n u , the eternal optimist, would have been ever ready to regroup and f o r g e a h e a d , trusting the people to find themselves and their way, but he, like G a n d h i , proved to be ever so mortal. Neither of them lived to see the ultimate victory they individually had sought. By and large, the last d e c a d e of A m i n u ' s life did bear out the assess-

364

AFRICAN R E V O L U T I O N A R Y

ment made in the original edition (1973). There were details added, embellishments, new developments with people, the nation, the different areas and states, but in retrospect, all seems to fit into the pattern set early in his life. His core direction was straight and true, right on up to his sudden and unfortunate demise. Of course, one could ponder what would have happened had Aminu lived longer, but just as we will never know what Gandhi's role would have been had his career not ended so abruptly, so with Aminu. We can examine the consistencies or inconsistencies of his career and project the "what if . . ." into Nigeria's future, but much more important than that is to examine how durable will be the effect of his ideas and career on the thinking of those yet to come. Aminu never felt that pure democracy in itself would produce the desired effect, but deep down he felt that leadership that was truly an extension of the will of the majority would be basic to the ongoing process known as progress. Without it, the process would stop cold or even reverse its direction. Unfortunately, so many people have so much to gain personally from their associations with Aminu that they persistently try to capitalize on the image, memories, and legends that remain. His spirit and legacy are still a powerful force in Nigeria and can give great impetus to the one or ones who can successfully cover themselves with his mantle. When those I interviewed for this edition were asked what effect would Aminu's life have on the future of Nigeria, they unanimously felt that it would be overwhelming. There were differences as to whether it would be his memory and image, or the ideas that Aminu reached for, that would serve as the core of the future push toward democracy and equality, but they all agreed that what he stood for would be prominent in the political and moral life of the nation. And putting aside all the self-seekers, there are still the many who revere his memory and look longingly for some charismatic figure to come forth to carry on Aminu's w o r k — s o m e o n e to lead the nation, the North, and the Nigerian people to ultimate liberation. Nigeria's diverse elements no longer have Aminu Kano to contend with. But, it can fairly safely be assumed that they will continue to have Aminuism on their hands. Both Gandhi and Aminu died penniless, without official positions or academic titles, yet each of their respective nations gave them the

Aminuism,

365

Where To?

status of "the Conscience of the Nation."They, like Thoreau, Tolstoy, and Ruskin tried to convince those they touched to find a synthesis between humankind's goals and the actions and attitudes needed to achieve them. Each succeeded only minimally during his lifetime, but showed the path toward these higher goals to others. Chiqua Achebe sums it up this way: T h e i m p o r t a n c e to society of p e o p l e like A m i n u K a n o or M a h a t m a G a n d h i is not that e v e r y politician can b e c o m e like t h e m , for that w o u l d be a totally unrealistic e x p e c t a t i o n . But the

monumental

fact . . . w h i c h no one c a n ignore a f t e r they have walked a m o n g us, is this: G a n d h i was real; A m i n u K a n o w a s real . . . not angels in h e a v e n . . . . N o one w h o r e d u c e s the high p u r p o s e s of politics . . . to a s w i n i s h scramble can do so w i t h o u t b r i n g i n g d o w n a terrible j u d g e m e n t upon h i m s e l f . N i g e r i a c a n n o t be the s a m e again b e c a u s e A m i n u K a n o lived here.25

366

Al KICAN RI VOI.ITI ION AK Y

Notes Much of the material in this book was derived from extensive on-the-scene personal interviews. The notes and recorded tapes of these interviews are all in the personal files of the author. Chapter 1 Why and How 1. Louis Fischer, Gandhi (New York: New American Library, 1954), p. 18 (freely extracted). Chapter 2 Then 1. Michael Crowder, The Story of Nigeria (London: Faber & Faber, 1962), pp. 43-45. 2. H. R. Palmer, "The Kano Chronicle," Journal of The Royal Anthropological Institute, 38 ( 1 9 0 8 ) , pp. 58-98. 3. Aminu Kano, personal interview with author, Lagos, June 27, 28,1969. Chapter 4 The Student l . S i r Ahmadu Bello, My Life (London: Cambridge University Press, 1962), p. 31. 2. Bello Dandago, Sarkin Dawaki, personal interview, Kano, August, 1969. 3. Abdu Mani, personal interview, Kaduna, August, 1969. 4. C. S. Whitaker, Jr., "Three Perspectives on Hierarchy," Journal of Commonwealth Political Studies, March, 1965. 5. Aminu Kano, Kano Under the Hammer of Native Autocracy (Kano: July, 1941). Handwritten copy of unpublished manuscript in author's file. Chapter 5 The Man—The Teacher 1. Aminu Kano, "My Resignation," Kano Daily Comet, November 11, 1950. 2. Aminu Kano, Kano Under the Hammer—, op. cit. 3. Sani Gezawa, personal interview, July, 1969. 367

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AFRICAN REVOLUTIONARY

4. Aminu Kano, "Bauchi Discussion Circle Debate on Indirect Rule," 1944. Personal notebooks, handwritten copy in author's file. 5. Sa'adu Zungur. Personal notebooks, received from Aminu Kano. Chapter 6 The Outer Circle 1. James Coleman, Nigeria, Background To Nationalism (Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1965), p. 356. Chapter 7 Putting It Together 1. Aminu Kano, personal diaries, December, 1948. 2. Ibid., August, 1948. 3. West Africa Magazine, August 5, 1967. Chapter 8 The Rebel 1. A. J. Spicer, London, September, 1969; Aminu Kano, Lagos, June, 1969. Personal interviews. 2. C. S. Whitaker, The Politics of Tradition (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1970), p. 270. 3. Richard Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963), p. 94. 4. Ibid., p. 94; Aminu Kano, personal interview, Lagos, June, 1969. 5. Abubakar Imam, personal interview, Lagos, August, 1969. 6. Maitama Sule, personal interview, Kano, July, 1969. 7. Aminu Kano, copy of letter in author's file. 8. C. S. Whitaker, "Three Perspectives on Hierarchy," offprint, p. 4. 9. James Coleman, op. cit., p. 39. 10. A. J. Spicer, personal interview, London, September, 1969. Chapter 9 Crusader-Politician 1. Capt. Hugh Clapperton, quoted in K. J. Bryant, Kano, Gateway to Northern Nigeria (Zaria: Gaskiya Corporation), p. 4. 2. Heinrich Barth, Ibid., p. 5. 3. Dr. John Paden, "Aspects of Emirship in Kano." Paper presented to Conference on West African Chiefs, University of Ife, Nigeria, December 17-21, 1968. 4. M. G. Smith, Government in Zabbau. (London: Oxford University Press, 1960), p. 260.

Notes 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.

369

C. S. Whitaker, Politics of Tradition, op. cit., p. 461. Ibid., p. 354; Aminu Kano, personal interview, June, 1969. Aminu Kano, personal interview, Lagos, June, 1969. Inuwa Wada, personal interview, Lagos, August, 1969. Louis Fischer, op. cit., p. 36. Aminu Kano, personal interview, Kano, August, 1969. Uba Adamu, personal interview, Dambatta, July, 1969. N E P U song, quoted in C. S. Whitaker, Politics of Tradition, p. 407. 13. Maitama Sule, personal interview, Kano, July, 1969. 14. Dr. R. A. B. Dikko; Aminu Kano, personal interviews, Lagos, August, 1969. 15. Nigerian Citizen, October 2, 1952, Sadauna of Sokoto, quoted by Billy J. Dudley in Parties and Politics in Northern Nigeria (London: Cass, 1968), p. 83. 16. See Billy J. Dudley, Parties and Politics in Northern Nigeria, pp. 185-190. 17. C. S. Whitaker, Politics of Tradition, p. 392; Aminu Kano, personal interview, August, 1969. 18. "Report on Kano Disturbances," Appendix B (Kaduna, 1953), quoted by B. J. Dudley, op. cit., p. 25, note # 8 3 . 19. Ibid., May 16-19, 1953, quoted by James Coleman, op. cit., p. 400. 20. Joseph Tarka, personal interview, Lagos, August, 1969. 21. Anthony Enahoro, personal interview, Lagos, August, 1969. 22. C. S. Whitaker, "Three Perspectives on Hierarchy." 23. C. S. Whitaker, Politics of Tradition, p. 351. 24. Nigerian Citizen, December 19, 1959, quoted in C. S. Whitaker, Politics of Tradition, p. 350. 25. C. S. Whitaker, "Three Perspectives on Hierarchy," Offprint, p. 8. 26. Sule Katagum, personal interview, Lagos, July, 1969. 27. C. S. Whitaker, "Three Perspectives on Hierarchy," Offprint, p. 17. 28. Maitama Sule, personal interview, Kano, July, 1969. 29. Billy J. Dudley, op. cit., p. 178. The assumption is made that these figures are for literacy in English. The author indicates that approximately 5 % more are literate in Arabic.

370

AFRICAN REVOLUTIONARY

30. Aminu Kano, Notes From The Jailhouse. Copy in author's file. 31. Richard Sklar, op. cit., p. 419, note # 1 0 0 . Chapter 10 Statesman-Parliamentarian 1. Aminu Kano, "Parliamentary Speeches," (Kano: Olusei Press L t d . ) , August 19, 1960, p. 67; April 19, 1960, p. 75-76; August 13, 1960, p. 70; April 2, 1964, p. 94; April 14, 1960, p. 77. 2. C. S. Whitaker, Politics of Tradition, p. 408; Aminu Kano, personal interview, August, 1969. 3. N E P U National Headquarters Press Release, September 20, 1962. 4. Aminu Kano, "Parliamentary Speeches," op. cit., April 13, 1960, p. 81. 5. Aminu Kano, "Notes on Democratic Alternatives in Africa"; also "Parliamentary Speeches," April 1, 1964, p. 25. 6. Aminu Kano, "Parliamentary Speeches," April, 1969, p. 89. 7. N E P U Manifesto, Kano, 1950. 8. C. S. Whitaker, Politics of Tradition, p. 411. 9. Ibid., p. 411. 10. Billy J. Dudley, op. cit., p. 109, including note # 4 7 . 11. Ibid., p. 194, note # 6 0 . 12. C. S. Whitaker, Politics of Tradition, p. 280. 13. Aminu Kano, personal interview, London, September, 1969. 14. Dr. John Paden, "Influence of Religious Elites on Political Cultures in Kano" (Kano: Unpublished Doctoral Thesis), pp. 502, 3. 15. Aminu Kano, personal interview, Lagos, August, 1969. 16. Dr. John Paden, "Influence of Religious Elites . . . , " p. 509. 17. Ibid., Part II, "Brotherhood Patterns of Integration." 18. C. S. Whitaker, Politics of Tradition, p. 397. 19. Copy of this letter is in author's file. 20. Dr. John Paden, "Influence of Religious Elites . . . ," p. 62. 21. Billy J. Dudley, op. cit., p. 185. 22. R. Harris, "Nigeria; Crisis & Compromise," in Africa Report, March, 1965, p. 28. 23. Fred McEwen, personal interview, Lagos, August, 1969.

Notes

371

Chapter 11 Nadir 1. Aininu Kano, personal diaries, April 14, 1965. 2. Letter from Minister of Trade to Aminu Kano, August, 1969. 3. Aminu Kano, personal interview, Lagos, August, 1969. Chapter 12 Crossroad 1. Margaret Eipper, master's thesis (unpublished), Spring, 1969. 2. New Nigerian, January 19, 1966. 3. Martin Dent, "The Military and Politics: A Study of the Relations Between the Army and the Political Process in Nigeria," collection of papers edited by K. Kirkwood in Africa Affairs # 3 , p. 130. 4. Billy J. Dudley, op. cit., Preface, p. X. 5. Nuhu Bamali, personal interview, Kaduna, July, 1969. 6. Ibrahim Imam, "Peter Pan's Fib on the North and the Coup; A Cultural Analysis." Unpublished paper. 7. AliyuGwarzo, personal interview, Kano, July 15,1969. 8. Sani Zangon Daura, personal interview, Kaduna, July, 1969. 9. Naibi Wali, personal interview, August, 1969. 10. Alpha Wali, personal interview, August, 1969. 11. Nigerian Military Government; First Hundred Days, & the Terms of Reference to the Committee for Constitutional Review. 12. New Nigerian, June 11, 1966. 13. Fred McEwen, personal interview, August, 1970. 14. Government Statement on Current Nigerian Situation, 1966, p. 4. 15. Martin Dent, op. cit., p. 129. 16. Ibid., p. 135. Chapter 13 Gowon and Civil War 1. Ali Abdallah, personal interview, Kano, July, 1969. 2. Martin Dent, op. cit., p. 136; Aminu Kano, personal interview, Kano, July, 1969. 3. See Plekhanov, The Role of the Individual in Society. 4. Martin Dent, op. cit., p. 115. 5. Ibid., p. 139.

AFRICAN REVOLUTIONARY

372

6. U m a r u D i k k o , p e r s o n a l interview, K a d u n a , A u g u s t ,

1969.

7. A m i n u K a n o , p e r s o n a l i n t e r v i e w , J u l y ,

1969.

8. F a t h e r J a m e s O ' C o n n e l l , Africa

F e b r u a r y , 1 9 6 8 , p. 1 0 .

Report,

9. A l p h a Wali, personal interview, K a n o , July, 1 9 6 9 . 1 0 . D r . J o h n P a d e n , " A s p e c t s o f E m i r s h i p in K a n o , " o p . c i t . , D e c e m ber 17, 1 1 . West

1968.

Africa

Magazine,

A p r i l 6 , 1 9 6 8 , p. 3 9 2 .

12. U k p a b i A s i k a , " R e f l e c t i o n s o n Political E v o l u t i o n of O n e geria," pamphlet, March 14,

C h a p t e r 14

Ni-

1969.

T h e Military Winds D o w n

1. G e n . Y a k u b u G o w o n , p e r s o n a l i n t e r v i e w . U n i v e r s i t y of W a r w i c k , Great Britain, July 3, 1979. 2. G e n . Y a k u b u G o w o n . p e r s o n a l i n t e r v i e w . L o n d o n . M a y , 1 9 8 5 . 3.

Ibid.

4.

Brig. (Rei.) A b b a s Wali. personal interview, K a n o . April, 1985.

5 . O . O y e d i r a n . Nigerian Rule,

Government

and

Politics

under

Military

p. 263.

6. A m i n u K a n o . p e r s o n a l i n t e r v i e w , A u g u s t 2 5 . 1973/ 7.

Ibid., July 2, 1976.

8. A m i n u K a n o , p e r s o n a l i n t e r v i e w , A u g u s t 2 5 , 1 9 7 6 . 9 . A m i n u K a n o , l e t t e r s t o a u t h o r : J u n e 17, 1 9 7 9 ; M a y 11, 1 9 7 3 . 10. I b i d . , J u n e 17, 1 9 7 4 ; A u g u s t 2 6 , 1 9 7 4 . 11. D r . U s m a n H a s s a n , p e r s o n a l i n t e r v i e w , A p r i l , 1 9 8 5 . 12. B r i g .

Jallo,

Acting Commandant,

q u o t e d in West Africa, 13. West Africa,

Nigerian

Defense

Academy,

S e p t e m b e r 30, 1974.

J u n e 2 3 , 1974, p. 1154.

14. G e n . Y a k u b u G o w o n , p e r s o n a l i n t e r v i e w . U n i v e r s i t y of W a r w i c k , J u n e 19, 1 9 7 8 . 15. A m i n u K a n o , i n t e r v i e w , A u g u s t 2 4 , 1 9 7 6 . 16.

Ibid.

17. A m i n u K a n o , p e r s o n a l i n t e r v i e w , A u g u s t 2 7 , 1 9 7 6 . 18. A m i n u K a n o , p e r s o n a l d i a r i e s , D e c e m b e r 14, 1 9 7 4 . 19. B r i g . ( R e t . ) A b b a s W a l i : o p . c i t . 2 0 . A m i n u K a n o , p e r s o n a l d i a r i e s , J a n u a r y 1, 1 9 7 5 . 21.

Ibid., J a n u a r y 2 3 , 1975.

22. Ibid., February 27, 1975.

Notes 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58.

373

Aminu Kano, personal diaries, October 4, 1974. Ibid., July 30, 1975. Ibid., July 29, 1975. Aminu Kano, personal interview, July 2, 1976. Aminu Kano, letter to author. May 13, 1976. Aminu Kano, letter to author, December 24, 1975. Intimation # 7 . pamphlet, 1975, pp. 10, 11. Ibid., pp. 7. 11. Aminu Kano, personal diaries, February 3, 1976. West Africa, N o v e m b e r « , 1976, p. 1667. Aminu Kano, personal diaries, January 1, 1976. Ibid., May 24, 1976. Nigerian Herald, August 21, 1976. Aminu Kano, letter to author, June 28, 1977. West Africa, September 27, 1976. p. 1426. West Africa, November 15, 1976, p. 1730. Ibid., June 26, 1978. Ibid., August 15, 1977, p. 1701 ( L i m a n ) ; O c t o b e r 10. 1977. p. 2093 (Ejiasa). Aminu Kano, personal diaries, November i . 1977; January 12, 1978. Aminu Kano, personal diaries. January 18, 1976; May 7, 1976. West Africa, November 7, 1977, p. 2235; November 14, 1977. Aminu K a n o . personal interview, August 24, 1976. Aminu Kano, letter to author. May 28, 1977. Ibid., June 8, 1979. Intimation # 7 , 1975, p. 12. M . D. Yusufu, personal interview, N e w York City, January 1985. Tanko Yakasai, personal interview, Kano, April, 1985. M . Aliyu Tudun W a d a , personal interview, Kano, April, 1985. U. N. Akpan, personal interview, Kano, April, 1985. West Africa, September 27, 1976, p. 1426. Aminu Kano, personal diaries, February 13, 1978. Tanko Yakasai, personal interview, op. cit. Aminu Kano, personal diaries, September 9, 1978. Shehu Shanono, personal interview, Kano, April, 1985. Ibid. Dr. Ahmadu Jalingo, personal interview, Kano, April, 1985.

374

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59. Dr. Usman Hassan, personal interview, Kano, April, 1985. 60. West Africa, December 18, 1978, p. 2526. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76.

Brig. (Ret.) Abbas Wali, personal interview, Kano, April, 1985. West Africa, February 5, 1979, p. 218. Aminu Kano, personal diaries. May 2, 1979; June 7, 1979. West Africa, March 28, 1979, p. 557. West Africa, January 15, 1979, p. 103. Aminu Kano, personal diaries, March 24, 1979. Ibid., June 23, 24, 1979. West Africa, May 7, 1979, p. 781. Sunday Monitor, July 8, 1979. Daily Times, August 3, 1979, p. 1. Nigerian Standard, July 31, 1979, p. 1. New Nigerian, Daily Times: July 31, 1979. West Africa, March 24, 1980, p. 515. Aminu Kano, personal diaries, August 9, 19. 1979. Ibid., July 5, 6, 7. 1979.;1 Daily Times, August 17, 1979.

Chapter 15 The Civilians' Second Try 1. West Africa Magazine, February 4, 1979, p. 572. 2. Ibid., June 19, 1979, p. 1135. 3. Drum Magazine, August, 1970. 4. West Africa, September 10, 1979, p. 1670. 5. Aminu Kano, personal diaries, September 29, 1979. 6. Ibid., September 29, 1979. 7. Ibid., N o v e m b e r 14 and 23, 1979; December 1, 1979. 8. M. D. Y u s u f u , personal interview, New York City, June 23, 1985. 9. West Africa, D e c e m b e r 4 , 1978, p. 2463. 10. Dr. Usman Hassan, personal interview, Kano, April 2, 1979. 11. Shehu Shanono, personal interview, Kano, April 13, 1985. 12. ibid. 13. Uche C h u k w u m e r i j e , personal interview, Lagos, April, 1985. 1 4 . 0 . Odetola, quoted in " P R P Crisis," (Ibadan: Sketch Publishing Co. Ltd, 1981), 134. 15. West Africa, (Matchet's column), March 24, 1980, p. 514. 16. Ibid., June 16, 1980, p. 1052. 17. Aminu Kano, personal interview, July 24, 1981.

375

Notes 18. West Africa, August 18, 1980, p. 1578. 19. Ibid., May 5, 1980, p. 1808. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 30. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48.

Shehu Shanono, personal interview, Kano, April, 1985. Ibid. Aminu Kano, personal diaries, May 16, 1980; June 18, 1980. Shehu Shanono, op. cit. Uche C h u k w u m e r i j e , personal interview, April 24, 1985. Aliyu Dasuki, personal interview, Lagos, April, 1985. Uche C h u k w u m e r i j e , op. cit. Aminu Kano, personal diaries, June 16, 1981; September 27. 1981; October 24, 1981. M. T. Waziri, personal interview, Kano, April, 1985. Shehu Shanono, personal interview. Kano, April 13, 1985. M. T. Waziri, personal interview, April 17, 1985. West Africa, July 20. 1981, p. 1627. Ibid., April 20, 1981, p. 898. Shehu Shanono, personal interview, Kano, April 13, 1985. Ibid. Testimony before Akinola Commission of Enquiry, July, 1981. West Africa, July 20, 1981, p. 1627. New Nigerian, Ikoku Interview, August 22, 1982. Ibid. Letter from Aminu Kano to Sam lkoku, July 31, 1982. Uche C h u k w u m e r i j e , op. cit. Ibid. April 18, 1983, p. 966. West Africa, April 18, 1983, p. 966. Daily Times, April 18, 1983, p. 1. Shehu Shanono, op. cit. Ado Bayero, E m i r o f Kano, personal interview, Kano, April, 1985. M. B. Suleiman, personal interview, Kano, April, 1985. Aishatu Aminu Kano, A m i n u ' s widow, personal interview, Kano, April, 1985. Ibid.

Chapter 16 1. C. S. Whitaker, Politics 2. Ibid., p. 4 0 5 . 3. Ibid., p. 4 0 6 .

Early Assessments

of Tradition,

pp. 3 9 4 , 3 9 5 .

376

AFRICAN REVOLUTIONARY

4. A m i n u Kano, "Politics and Administration in Post-War Nigeria," University of Ife address (mimeographed copy in author's file), December 10, 1968, p. 7. 5. A m i n u Kano, personal interview, Lagos, August, 1969. 6. Dr. Pauline Baker, " T h e Politics of Nigerian Military R u l e , " Africa Report, February, 1971, p. 21. 7. A m i n u Kano, University of Ife address, op. cit., p. 7. 8. Richard Sklar, Nigerian Political Parties, p. 373, note 103. 9. A m i n u Kano, Parliamentary Speeches, op. cit., April 1, 1964, p. 84-5. 10. A m i n u Kano, Drum Interview, August, 1970. 11. A m i n u Kano, University of Ife address, op. cit., pp. 5-6. 12. E. Adeoye Adisa, personal interview, Kaduna, August 19, 1969. 13. Anthony E n a h o r o , personal interview, August 18, 1969. 14. U m a r u Dikko, personal interview, Kaduna, July, 1969. 15. B. O. Adebisi, Nigerian Opinion, January-February, 1970, p. 11. 16. A m i n u Kano, Drum Interview, August, 1970. Chapter 17 Aminuism, Where To? 1. Erik Erikson, Gandhi's Truth, quoted in New York Times Book Review, September 14, 1969. 2. Gen. Gowon, personal interview, London, May, 1985. 3. John Paden, Ahmadu Bello, p. 403. 4. West Africa, March 24, 1981, p. 5 15. 5. Letter to author, August 26, 1974. 6. Aminu Kano, personal interview, June 30, 1976. 7. Louis Fischer, Gandhi, (New York: New American Library, 1954), p. 59. 8. PRP in Nigerian Politics, Chapt. II, p. 13. 9. West Africa, January 5, 1981, p. 4. 10. Isaac Shuaibi, "The Legacy of Aminu Kano," delivered at Aminu Kano Memorial Conference, Bayero University, Kano, October 14, 1983. 11. M. D. Yusufu, personal interview, January 22, 1985. 12. Ali Abdullah, personal interview, Kano, April, 1985. 13. Ahmadu Trader, personal interview, Kano, April, 1985. 14. M. T. Waziri, personal interview, New York City, November, 1985.

Notes 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

377

Ibid. Ibid. West Africa, April 2, 1979. p. 572. M. D. Y u s u f u , personal interview, Lagos, April, 1985. New York Review of Books, November 20, 1969, p. 4. West Africa, April 2, 1979, p. 572. Clifford Geertz, A'ov York Review of Books, January 20, 1969, p. 4. Christopher Lasch, reviewing " G a n d h i ' s Truth" in New York Times Book Review, September 14, 1969. 23. Louis Fischer, Gandhi, p. 35. 24. Christopher Lasch, op. cit. 25. Chinua Achebe, The Trouble With Nigeria, p. 63.

Index Abdulkadir. Dandati 2 9 6 , 298 A b d u l l a h , Ali 234,238,356 Abdullahi ( E m i r o f G w a n d u ) 25,27, 35,337 A b d u l l a h i ( K i n g of B a g h d a d ) 14 Abdullahi, Yahaya 175-176 A b u b a k a r , Aliyu 172-173 A b u b a k a r , Iya 294 Achebe, Chinua 3 2 9 , 3 3 0 , 365 ActionGroup 159,183,186,195, 2 0 7 , 2 1 6 , 307 National C o u n c i l of Nigeria and the Cameroons 207,210,211 A d a m a (Sultan of A d a m a w a ) 27 A d a m u , P. S. ( A c t i n g G o v e r n o r ) 290 A d a m u , Uba 149-151 A d e b i s i , B. O . 349 Adelabo 162 A d e m o l a (Chief Justice) 210 A d i s a , E. A d e o y e 162,256,348 A f r o - A s i a n Solidarity C o n f e r e n c e 263-264 A h m a d u Bello University 173 A h m e d , S h e h u ( M a d a k i of K a n o ) 51, 290, 292 Ajiram, Shettima Shehu 101,106, 107 Akintola (Chief) 159,171,218,220 Akpan, U . N . 293 Al-Salam, Abd 24 Alhaji, Waziri 165 Ali,Sonni 22 A m e r i c a n S o c i e t y for A f r i c a n Culture 191

A m i n u (Chief Alkali of K a n o ) 61 Aminuism 348, 351, 354, 364 Ani, Michael 304 Animism 23 Arabs 15 Asika 282 Askia A b u b a k a r 51 Askia Ali 51 A v o i d a n c e pattern 7 Awolowo, Obafemi ("Awo") 3. 161, 2 0 7 . 2 4 0 , 2 9 0 , 2 9 7 , 3 0 6 307, 309, 318, 320, 328, 336, 340 Azikiwe, Nnamdi ("Zik") 87,108, 123,161-162,194,209-211, 303-304, 306-307.332 Baba (Mallam) 48,50 Babatope, Ebenezer 275 B a g o d a (Sarki of K a n o ) 16 Bai, Sarkin 165 B a k e r , Pauline 340 Bakin-Zuwo (Sabo) 317,320,322325,359 B a k o , A u d u ( G o v e r n o r of K a n o ) 255, 258, 280, 282 Balarabe (Mallam) 44 Balla, Y e r i m a 87,176,264 Bamali, Nuhu 87.165,270 B a n z a B a k w a i states 14,15 Baraya, M. 83 Barbushe 16 Barr ( D r . ) 285 Barth, Heinrich 134 Bashir (Chief Alkali of K a n o ) 63

378

Index

379

Bature, M. 305 Bauchi Community Center 91-93 Bauchi Discussion Circle 89-91 Bauchi General Improvement Union 88,89 Bauchi Middle School 7 4 - 7 6 , 84, 110, 172 Bauchi Teachers' Training College 80, 110 Bawo (son of Bayajidda) 15 Bayajidda 14—15 Bayero, Abdullahi (Emir of Kano) 6 1 - 6 3 , 7 1 , 113, 1 9 8 - 1 9 9 , 2 0 5 , 256-258 Bayero, Ado (Emir of Kano) 17. 201, 238, 286. 3 2 5 - 3 2 7 , 3 3 1 332 Bell, Sir Westray 197 Bello, Sir Ahmadu (Sardauna of Sokoto) 124-125, 190. 197199, 201. 299, 338, 363 murder of 219,220 Northern People's Congress and 10, 154, 1 5 5 , 1 5 9 , 164-168, 171 Bello, Mohammed (Sultan of Sokoto) 25.27,35,124.337 Berbers 15 Besmer, Fremont 168 Biafra 2 3 7 - 2 6 6 collapse of 266 declaration of independence of 251 foreign aid for 265. See also Ibos Biafrans 267, 343 Bida, Makaman 154,239,246,247 Bida, Usman 129,156 Biram 15 Birni, Haruna Dan 156 Bori dancers 9 Bornu 14,15,17,18,22 Brett, Sir Lionel 237 Brock way, Fenner 158 Butler, H. G. 337 Calibari Census

345 272,273

Central Intelligence Agency, U.S. 253 China 190,195,346 support of Biafra by 265 Chukwumerije, Uche 304,317, 319, 3 2 3 - 3 2 4 , 3 2 8 - 3 2 9 Church Missionary Society 144 Ciroma, Adamu 289, 294 Ciroma, definition of 198 Civil war, Nigerian 237-266 Clapperton, Capt. Hugh 132 Coleman, James 127 College Old Boys Association 125 Collins, John 155 Constituent Constitutional Assembly 2 8 8 - 2 8 9 , 293, 302 Constitutional Drafting Committee 282,288-289,304 Constitutional reform 153-154 Cook, Mercer 191 Daily Comet (newspaper) 123, 129, " 177 Dalla (Hill) 16,17,336 Dambazau, Lawan 143,152,227, 234, 290 Dan Fodio. See Usman Dan Fodio Dandago, Bello (Sarkin Dawaki) 51, 52, 165, 254, 259. 334 Dantata, Aminu 245,294,298,358 Darma, Sani 225 Dasuki.Aliyu 323 Dasuki, Ibrahim 289 Daura (city) 15,17 Daura, Jibir 51 Daura, Sani Zangon 227-228 Degel 23,24 Democracy (one party) 342-343 Democratic Humanism 316,327, 354 Dent, Martin 222 Dikko, R. A. B. 107,111 Dikko, Umaru 246-247,312,348 "Dilemma of Power, T h e " (Feinstein) 5

INDEX

380 Dimka, Z. Y. Divorce 9

101

Education of women 28, 35, 78 Egypt 15 modernization of 190 Ejiasa, Cyprian 288 Ekotie-Eboh 187,221 Emir of Kano. See Bayero, Ado Enahoro, Anthony 158-159.164, 207, 270, 307. 340, 348 Erikson, Erik 351 Federal Civil Service Commission of Nigeria 172 Federal Electoral Commission of Nigeria (Fedeco) 210.301. 303-305. 308-309 Federal Government Statutory Corporation of Nigeria 77 Federal Public Service Commission of Nigeria 86 France, Biafra supported by 265 Friendly Societies 105 Fulani(s) 22,24-28,37-38,337. 345 migration of 18 Fulani, Salihu 101 Gabari, Sadiq 317 Gandhi, Mahatma 30,69,101,143147, 330, 341, 351, 3 5 3 - 3 5 4 , 360-364 Garageji 16 Garba, Salihu 206 Gashash, Ibrahim Musa 209, 254 Gaskiya Ta Fi Kwabo (newspaper) 6, 87, 89, 111, 120, 123, 129 Gezawa, Sani 245 Ghana 15 Independence celebration of 190 military rule in 341 Gobel (Chief Secretary of Government in Kaduna) 155 Gobir 15,17,27 Gomwalk (Governor) 277

Goni, Mohammed (Governor of Borno) 319-320 Gowon, Major General Yakubu 174, 2 3 7 - 2 6 6 , 2 6 7 - 2 6 8 , 2 7 1 , 275-277, 313,340 nine-point program 272, 275, 352 Great Britain indirect rule by 74-75,137 military aid from 264 Ministry of Colonial Administration of 100 Parliament of 155,158 slavery abolished by 79 in World War II 88 Great Nigerian People's Party (C-.NPP) 301. 307, 318-319. 324 Gudu 24 Gule, Sani 317 Gumi. Abubakar 117, 118. 126127.219 Gusau. Yahaya 74, 84, 86, 88, 101 G w a m m a , Isiaku 176 Gwari 15 Gwarzo, Aliyu 71 Gwarzo, Mohaminadu 51 Habe. definition of 25n Halilu (uncle of Aminu Kano) 299 Hamza (driver for Aminu Kano) 298 Hasia (wife of Aminu Kano) 68-69, 74, 77, 109, 142, 180-181 Hassan, Usman 274, 278 Hausa(s) 159,345 clientage system of 154 culture of 6-10,57-58 history of 14-30 killing of 243 Hausa Bokwai states (Hausaland) 14, 15, 17, 268 Hausa Fulani 334 Hausa Society 94 Hodgkin, Thomas 155 Hudson Commission 257 Ibadan, University of 193 Ibiam (officer of Bauchi Discussion Circle) 89

Index Ibos

159,221,227-229,232-233, 252, 260-263 exodus from North of 244-245 massacres of 243, 244 in National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons 108,260 post-war reconciliation 267,302 reintegration of 344-345 Ibrahim, Waziri 306 Ijuma, Bello 122 Ikoku, S. G. 295,309,313,319, 328-329 lliasu, Salihi 298,314.316 Ilm (Mallain) 74 llozeu, U. 303 Imam, Abubakar 77-78,80,87-88, 107, 11 1, 122 Iman, Ibrahim 343 Imoudu, Michael 295. 301 Independent Labor Party, British 123 India Constitution of 184 independence struggle in 100,101 Inuwa (Emir of Kano) 48, 199-201 Ironsi. Major General Aguiyi 131, 221-235. 242, 2 6 8 , 3 4 3 Islam 17-19 Animism and 23 marriage customs in 9 model of state in 24—25 Northern Elements Progressive Union doctrines and 270-271 political interconnections of 75 Israel 189, 190

Jafaru (Emirof Zaria) 38,44,48, 132 Jalingo, Ahmadu 396-397 Jefferson, Thomas 55 Jinnah, Mohammed Ali 7 2 , 1 0 0 Joking relationship 7 Jukun kingdom 15 Junaidu. See Mohammed, Dr. Junaidu

381 Kabara, Nasiru 59, 96 Kaduna College 50-57,60-61.67, 8 7 , 9 9 , 156, 164 Kaduna Discussion Group 343 Kanejeji (King of Kano) 20 Kanem-Bornu. See Bornu Kano, Aminu birth of 31-34 childhood of 3 4 - 4 5 early political activities of 88-97 education of 4 6 - 7 0 in England 98-104 Gowon regime and 237-266 as head of Maru Teachers' College 117-130 Ibos and 260-263 influence of Gandhi on 143-147 Ironsi government and 220-235 lineage of 26-27 marriages of 6 6 - 6 9 , 1 8 0 - 1 8 2 . 248-250 as member of Nigerian Parliament 185-211 as Nigerian Federal Commissioner of Communications 5 in Northern Elements Progressive Union leadership 131-185,227 Northern People's Congress and 111-112, 121-124 Northern Teachers' Association and 105-108,111 offered posts by British 114-116 philosophy of 2 8 - 3 0 religious views of 125-128 struggle against traditional power by 212-216 teaching career of 71-97 as United Nations delegate 1 -5, 188-191, 216-219, 346 Kano, Garba 57 Kano (state) 15-22 iron ore in 17 Kano Chronicle 16,18 Kano Community Commercial School (Kccs) 245,270,345

382 Kano Middle School 48-^9 Kano People's Party 200, 202, 207, 214-215 Kano State Movement 214-215 Kano Under the Hammer of Native Autocracv (Aminu Kano). 646 5 , 7 0 , 341 Kano Youths'Association 91 Kanuri 345 Katagum, Sule 112,248,256,341 in Bauchi Middle School 89, 129, 172 as Federal Civil Service Commission 171-173.240 Katsina, Hassan 221, 231. 2 3 8 - 2 4 0 , 245, 251, 292 Katsina (state) 15,17.22,26 Katsina College 50,83,164 Kazaure, Shehu 71 Kebbi 15 Kenyatta, Jomo 100 Khadafi, M u a m m e r 354 Khadir, Sheik 202 Khadiriyya 2 0 2 - 2 0 3 , 206 Khama, Seretse 100 Knott (senior political officer) 8 8 91, 114-115 Koran 18,19,23,29,142 Kororofa 15 Labor Party, British 99 Lasch, Christopher 363 Laski, Harold 99 Liman, Dr. M. T . 274,288,296 Local Government Councils 290, 293 London Constitutional Conference 157, 158, 16!, 183 London University 54,78,101 Institute of Education of 99, 102 Lugard, Lord 10,75,88 Macebu, Stanley 310,360,362 MacPherson, Sir John 1 1 0 , 1 5 4 MacPherson Constitution 158

INDEX

Madaki of Kano. See A h m e d . Shehu Mai Tattabari 27 Maikwaru, Abba 179 Makaman Bida 296 Mali 15,17,18,22 Mallam class 20,27 Man and Society (Mannheim) 99 Mani, Abdu 53,57 Mannheim, Karl 99 Maru T e a c h e r s ' C o l l e g e 117-121, 203 Mati, Mallam Dan 58 Mbanefo. Sir Louis 210,261 McEwen, Fred 187.209,211.233. 256 Meir. Golda 190,354 Miller, E. P. 144 Miller, R E. 6 0 - 6 1 Moffett Committee of Enquiry 200 Mohammed, Bala 326 Mohammed, Dr. Junaidu 300,313. 320, 3 2 8 , 3 3 1 Mohammed, Murtala Ramat 280281,284 Mojekwu, Christopher 103,261 Money, Captain C. D. 106-107 Monguno, Shettima Ali 289, 294 Monu, Timothy 148-149,171 Mort, E. L. 5 3 - 5 4 , 99 Mossad 355 Molsi Ya Fi Zama (Aminu Kano) 102 Musa, Balarabe 3 1 3 - 3 1 6 , 318-322. 323 Musa, Mohammed 26 Musawa, Musa 300,319,358

Nafata (King of Gobir) 23 Naillalla, Abubakar 35 Nana, Gogo 96 Nasiru (Mallam) 150-152 Nasser, Gamil Abdul 189-190 National Council for Mutual Understanding 290,292-293

Index National Convention of Nigerian Citizens (NCNC). See Glossary 154, 161-165, 183,187-188, 194-195, 254, 267, 306 coalition of Action Group and 207, 210,211 coalition of Northern People's Congress and 187,195 Ibosin 108,260 Northern Elements Progressive Union and 154,161-163,187188, 1 9 4 - 1 9 5 , 2 1 3 National Independence Party 183 National Movement 202-293 National Nigerian Democratic Party (NNDP) 2 0 7 , 2 0 8 , 2 1 0 . 2 1 6 . 254 National Party of Nigeria (NPN) 295, 297, 299, 300, 304-308, 316, 328-329 National Union Council 293 Nehru, Jawaharlal 100,101,361 Nelson (Kano Provisional Secretary) 234 New York Times, The (newspaper) 96 Niass (Sheik) Ibrahim 205-206 Nigeria, map of regions of 21 Nigerian Citizen (newspaper) 6, 123,155 Nigerian Daily Times (newspaper) 5 Nigerian National Alliance 207 Nigerian People's Party (NPP) 301, 303, 307 Nigerian Union of Teachers 107 Nigerian Youth Corps 271 Nixon, Richard 352 Nkrumah, Kwame 100, 101, 138139, 354 Northern Elements Progressive Association (NEPA) 91,105, 107, 175 Northern Elements Progressive Union (NEPU) 5, 138-141, 145-166, 172-186,193-212, 295, 310, 317, 324. 337, 345-346

383 Blacksmiths'Association of 140 Butchers'Association of 140 founding of 122-123,131-132 Ironsi government and 221 Islamic doctrine of 270-271 Kano Province, 1966 conference of 218-219 National Executive Committee of 173 1965 congress of 214 nonviolence and 145-147 rivalry of Northern Peoples' Congress and 122-123,153159, 165, 197, 252. 254, 255 School for Propaganda of 179 socialism of 271-272 Northern House of Assembly 166, 169. 176. 196 Northern House of Chiefs 112 Northern Nigerian Food Supply and Transport Service 225 Northern Nigerian Moslem Congress 142 Northern People's Congress (NPC) 10-11, 111, 141, 147. 161, 183, 188, 207-210. 299 coalition of National Convention of Nigerian Citizens and 187,195 rivalry of Northern Elements Progressive Union and 122— 123, 153-159, 165, 197,252, 254,255 Northern Progressive Front 163, 207,211,213 Northern Regional Government 166, 199 Northern Teachers' Welfare Association 101,105-108, 111, 121, 141, 147 Nupe 5, 345 Nyerere, Julius 2 1 6 , 3 4 3 Nzeogwu, Major Chukuma 221,222 Obasanjo, Olusegun 284, 286 Ogbu, Edwin (Ambassador) 269 Ogunboh, Mrs. Bola 330

384 Ogundipe 36 O j u k w u , Lieutenant Colonel Odumegwu 244,246 Okpara, Michael 187,194 Oni, Ola 301 Organization of African Unity Otegbeye (politician) 264 Oxford University 119

INDEX

189

Paden, John 137,352 Padmore, George 100,138 Pakistan, independence struggle in 100 Palmer, H. R 137 Pan-Africanism 189 Pan-Islamism 189-190 Patterson, Sir John 59-60 People's Redemption Party (PRP) 296, 2 9 8 - 2 9 9 , 3 0 0 - 3 1 0 , 3 1 3 316, 318-324, 328-331, 352, 356,360 Plekhanov, Georgi Valentinovich 241 Portugal, Biafra supported by

265

Rafi, D. A. 107 Rahman, Abdu 18 Rakaiya (mother of Aminu Kano) 31-33,35-36,41 Rano 15,17 Rhodesia 346 Richards Constitution 153-154,182 Rimi, M o h a m m e d Abubakar 296, 313-314, 316-317, 319-326, 3 5 6 - 3 5 7 , 359 Rousseau, Jean Jacques 55 Rowland, Justice 305 Rumfa, M o h a m m e d (Emir of Kano) 18, 77, 325 Sabo. See Bakin-Zuwo, Sabo Sabo, Yahaya 145, 147-148, 176, 225 Sadiya, Gogo 248 Sagoe, M. N. 103 Salam, Abdul 34

Salihi. See Iliasu, Salihi Sanusi,Ado 200 Sanusi, Mohammadu (Emir of Kano) 165-166,197-200,255, 258, 280, 282, 202, 205, 215, 256 Sardauna of Sokoto. See Bello, Sir Ahmadu 299, 338, 363 Sarkin Dawaki. See Dandago, Bello Sattatima, Shehu 48 Sawaba, Gambo 156,179 School of Arabic Studies 118,121 Shagari, Shehu 294,306.309.312. 324, 3 2 9 , 3 4 8 Shakespeare, William 55 Shanono, Shehu 295-296.317. 3 2 1 - 3 2 2 . 325-327, 331 Shatu, Aminu Kano 297, 331 Shatu (wife of Aminu Kano) 181182, 213, 219, 2 4 8 - 2 5 0 Shaw, George Bernard 99 Shehuci Primary School 44.46 Sirajo. Sidi Ali 301 Snake symbols 15 Snowsell (Boy Scout leader) 103 Socialism 99, 101 of Northern Elements Progressive Union 271-272 Socialist Labor Party, British 99 Socialist Youth of Nigeria 338 Sokoto 27 Sokoto Youths' Social Circle 91 Solarin, Tai 275 Songhai 15,22 South Africa Biafra supported by 265 British sale of arms to 259 Soviet Union 190,264-265 Spicer, A. J. 118-119,128 Springer, Maida 191 State Department, U.S. 243 reception for Nigerian delegation to United Nations held by I Stevens (district officer) 121 Student Socialist Society, British 99 Sufism 95

385

Index Sule, Maitama 10,57,122-123, 153, 165, 222, 245, 248 Suleiman, ML B. 332 Suleiman, Wali 113 Sulemanu (Emir of Kano) 26, 27 Tabaru, Shugaba 287 Tafawa-Balewa, Abubakar 10, 8 8 90, 92-93, 106, 107, 154,226, 299. 360 assassination of 221 at Bauchi Middle School 74, 8 3 86,97 as Prime Minister 3,164—171, 188,209-211,216,218 Tahir, Ibrahim 295 Talakawa 10,351 Tanzania 2 1 6 , 3 4 3 Tarka. Joseph 117, 163, 210, 222, 239, 2 4 6 - 2 4 7 , 3 4 0 , 3 4 8 United Middle Belt Congress and 195, 207, 213 Tasidi (wife of Yusufu Kano) 181 Tchumburburi 16 Tela, Shehu 181 Tijjani (Sheik) 202, 203 Tijjaniyya 202-206 Tiv(s) 195,206,345 Trader, Ahmadu 172,206,215, 225, 3 3 1 , 3 5 8 Tuaregs 15, 17 Tudun-Wada, Mohammed Aliyu 292,331 Udoji, Jerome 277 Uduehi, Aikhen 308 Umaru (Sarkin Kano) 20 United Africa Company 165,177 United Arab Republic 189-190 United Middle Belt Congress (UMBC) 195,206,213-215 United Nations 1-5, 113, 170, 188191, 210, 216-219, 346 Second Committee of 188, 218

United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD) 218 United Party of Nigeria (UPN) 303, 305,307,309,318,319,328, 354 United Progressive Grand Alliance (UPGA) 207,208,210,213, 352 United States, Civil War in 252 Usman Dan Fodio (Sarkin Musulmi) 35,90,100,326, 337.354,363 holy war of 20,22-28,38,118 Usman. Yusufu Bala 3 1 8 . 3 5 2 Vanguard Movement for Nigerian Workers and Peasants 301 Vietnam war 346 Voltaire 55 Wada, Inuwa 59, 142, 159, 165166, 200, 245 Wali, Alpha 229 Wali, Brigadier Abbas (Retired) 278, 302 Wali, Isa 111-115,180,248 Wali, Zainab 2 4 8 , 3 3 1 Waziri (Mallam) 93 Waziri, M. T. 324-325, 359 West Africa Magazine 5, 3 0 3 , 3 5 5 West Africa Pilot (newspaper) 87, 89 West African Secretariat 100-101 West African Student Union 100 Whitaker, C. S. 64, 119, 138«, 167, 203,338 Williams, Rotimi 230, 288 Women education and freedom of movement of 28, 35, 78 Hausa customs for 9 political participation of 4 , 1 1 2 right to vote and 184 World Boy Scout Jamboree 102-103

386 World Health Organization World War II 79 Great Britain in 88 trade restrictions during

INDEX

336

62

Y aba Higher College 60,72,86 Yaji 18 Yakasai, Tanko 175-176,245,255, 264, 292, 295, 298 Yakubu (King of Kano) 18 YamMahaukata 157,160 Y a r ' A d u a , Shehu 286 Yatakko 36-37 Yauri 15 Yoruba 15,159,302-303 Young Farmers' Club 102 Young Socialists, British 99 Yunfa (King of Gobir) 2 3 - 2 5 , 27 Yusufu (father of Aminu Kano) 314 0 , 4 2 , 4 4 , 6 8 , 351 as acting Chief Alkali of Kano 6164,70,257

death of 250 learning and 20, 4 8 - 4 9 Yusufu. See Usman, Yusufu Bala Yusufu, M. D. 292, 315. 355, 360, 362

Zainab (wife of Isa Wali) 114 Zamfara 15 Zamfarawa 25 Zaria 17,26 Zaria Friendly Society 86 Zaria Middle School 87 Zaria Youths'Association 91 Zazzau 15 Zik. See Azikiwe Zikist Youth Movement 211 Zukogi. Abubakar 175, 183-184 Zungur, Sa'adu 6 9 - 7 0 , 7 2 - 7 4 , 100, 108. 160. 163. 297 indirect rule attacked by 8 6 - 9 4 , 110-112,116-117

About the Author and the Book Alan Feinstein has long been a student of African affairs, particularly of Nigerian political and cultural development. He has traveled widely throughout sub-Saharan Africa and over the years has interviewed many African political figures. John Paden, director of the Program of African Studies at Northwestern University, has spent many years of research and teaching in northern Nigeria. His numerous publications include Religion and Political Culture in Kano and Ahmadu Bello: Sardauna ofSokoto.

Aminu Kano, Hausa-Fulani patrician turned revolutionary, was born into the struggle for Nigeria's independence. Because his life was so deeply entwined with the teeming events connected with that struggle, his story is to a great extent the story of his country, with the success or defeat of one mirrored in the other. Thus, through the medium of this insightful interpretive biography, Alan Feinstein provides an intimate picture of the culture, politics, and history of Nigeria and of the political, ethnic, and personal interrelationships that dominated the scene during the frenetic years of Aminu's career. The first edition of African Revolutionary, "a remarkable book with an insight into Nigeria and its stormy history" (Library Journal), traced Aminu's career from his birth into Islamic culture and religion, through his constant determination to reconcile the old with the new, his fight against corruption, his part in the struggle for Nigerian independence, his emergence from regional politics onto the national and international scene, and the civil war and its aftermath. This revised edition adds a full discussion of the period from 1973 to Aminu's death in April 1983.

387