One year ago, Buhari promised to change Nigeria
No Nigerian leader, democratic or dictatorial, has ever succeeded in delivering socioeconomic prosperity to the masses.
When Nigerians rouse from sleep on April 1, they will again head for filling stations to join the now de rigueur queues for Premium Motor Spirit.
This is no big news; queueing for hours at petrol stations has been
the most recurring item on the itinerary of Nigerians not only for the
past month, but also for the third spell in the past three months.
What is news is that when these same people woke up exactly one
year ago, the majority of them trooped to the streets in jubilation.
Three hours and 47 minutes into that day, opposition candidate Muhammadu
Buhari was declared president-elect.
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But while Nigerians hailed Buhari as a Messiah of sorts, they
forgot to remind themselves that no Nigerian leader, democratic or
dictatorial, had ever succeeded in delivering socioeconomic prosperity
to the masses.
Joy so often short-lived
There was something familiar about the sheer joy that was unleashed on the streets of Nigeria on April 1, 2015.
More than five decades ago, on October 1, 1960, when Sir
Abubakar Tafawa Balewa accepted the symbols of Independence from the
Queen of England and cheerily declared that he was "opening a new chapter in the history of Nigeria", it was to the delight of millions of citizens.
Elites clutched at their radios as devout Catholics would the Rosary,
listening as the sonorous voice of Emmanuel Omatsola blared from Race
Course, Lagos: Nigeria is a free, sovereign nation. Pupils holidayed;
and when they returned to school, they were served unusual rounds of
sumptuous meals and handed lovingly petite green-white-green flags.
But for all of Balewa's education and popularity in
international circles, his reputation for championing northern interests
did little to foster unity and stability in Nigeria's delicate
multiethnic set-up. Both power and life were taken away from him in a
coup six years later.
When Nigeria returned to democracy in 1999, after decades of
torture at the hands of the military, the scenarios were repeated.
Olusegun Obasanjo, a retired soldier who was on the throes of death in
prison, was suddenly, miraculously handed democratic power.
Obasanjo had admitted
that "the entire Nigerian scene is very bleak indeed, so bleak people
ask me: where do we begin?" But he also promised to fight corruption,
restore public confidence in governance, build infrastructure. Millions
of overjoyed Nigerians believed him - the worst civilian government is
better than the best military regime was the popular reasoning at the
time.
In his book, This House Has Fallen, published a year into
Obasanjo's presidency, British journalist Karl Maier had written: "The
government spends up to half its annual budget on salaries of an
estimated two million workers… yet the civil service remains paralysed,
with connections and corruption still the fastest way to get anything
done. Up to 75 percent of the army's equipment is broken or
missing vital spare parts. The Navy's 52 admirals and commodores
outnumber serviceable ships by a ratio of six to one. The Air Force has
10,000 men but fewer than 20 functioning aircraft."
Sixteen long years later, it is heartbreaking to see that these
are still some of the issues dominating Nigerian political discourse.
Gloom of Buhari's victory
Caveat: this is not an appraisal of Buhari's reign - not yet. But some of his first words as president-elect back in 2015 were: "You voted for change and now change has come."
Goodluck Jonathan's presidency ended with a biting fuel
scarcity that suffering masses felt would accompany Jonathan out of
office. On the anniversary of Buhari's victory, that scarcity they so
despised is exactly what they're grappling with. There are no noticeable
improvements in erratic power supply, the unhealthy economy, the dearth
of jobs. No "change", really.
Buhari still has adequate time to turn his fortunes around, but
he must be wary of the kind of executive arrogance that undid
Jonathan's party and government.
It is the same type of arrogance that made Minister of State
for Petroleum, Ibe Kachikwu, declare in the face of the ongoing petrol
scarcity: "One of the trainings I did not receive was that of a
magician." Only to tell prospective protesters days later: "Save your fuel, I am not going to resign" is dangerous.
That Femi Adesina, Buhari's spokesman, told Nigerians a day earlier
that: "If some people are crying that they are in darkness, they should
go and hold those who vandalise the installations" betrays Buhari's
administration's intolerance of criticism and suggests possible
abdication of leadership.
Just in case Buhari has forgotten, in May, when he will have
completed a quarter of his term in office, Nigerians will not only be
carefully assessing the state of his "change" agenda, they will also be
wondering if his party deserves to be retained in 2019.
Fisayo Soyombo edits the Nigerian online newspaper TheCable.
The views expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera's editorial policy.
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