Monday, 9 December 2013

THE GOVERNOR, THE WIDOW AND THE BURDEN OF POVERTY - BY SOLA OLUMEHNSE



If Governor Adams Oshiomhole doubted the power of social media and the Internet before he came face to face recently with a widow who would change his life, I am sure he no longer does.  In the past couple of weeks, he has been insulted and called all kinds of names.

The governor deserved the flak.  As the camera starts to roll on an infamous footage that travelled worldwide in just two days, he is seen standing in the middle of a tumult.  The location turns out to be Mission Road in Benin City, one of the key streets he has been trying to keep clear. 

And there, right before the powerful governor like a scene out of the Bible, is a woman on her knees.  The world now knows her to be Joy Ifije. 

At that moment, she is nameless, faceless, and—it would seem—powerless.  On her knees, partly surrounded by her belongings, she is begging the governor for mercy, explaining that she is a poor widow.  

As governor, the former labour leader has toiled in the past few years to redefine the face of the state capital.  Ruined by decade after decade of misrule, poor planning and neglect, Benin City became an overpopulated open market.

In stepped Comrade Oshiomhole in his khaki shorts, his short sleeves already rolled up from his days as a labour combatant, determined to build a modern city.  The reality is that you cannot build a modern street when people are sitting all over it, a lesson he has continued to teach and to preach. 


Mrs. Ifije would hear the worst of his frustration: “Go and die!” the governor yells as the woman pleads. 

Governor Oshiomhole has since apologized to her, explaining that he got carried away.  Supremely contrite, he gave her a job, as well as money to start a proper business.

But this story is of universal application.  You cannot be indifferent once you know about it.

If you believe in God, you have to question yourself about the coincidences in the story.  Mrs. Ifijeh might have been on another street at that time.  She was left to explain she did not know the governor would be on an inspection tour that day. 

Her explanation is untenable: crimes are typically not committed when law enforcement is present.  But it was not what she said: it is what she did when the governor appeared.  Others ran away; she fell on her knees.  It was all a question of who was where, and at what time. 

Mrs. Ifije was at the right place at the wrong time because Time needed her to trigger a sequence of events.

Governor Oshiomhole, fated to set foot on Mrs. Ifije’s Time trap, stepped forward, believing he was in his city to iron out a simple problem, and was in control.  But Time had written the story, not he, penning one into the story of the other, placing the governor in the wrong place, for him, at the right time.  The governor did not need to acknowledge her or say a word to her, but he did.  And because the words were put into his mouth by the author, Time, he said the wrong thing at exactly the right time.

It was the right time because the real hero of their story was present, in the crowd, fated to engrave their story in Time.  He filmed the all-powerful governor who would become humble, and the humble widow who would be catapulted onto the front page.  The pivot of this great story was that storyteller with the camera.  This story would not have been placed in front of the world had he not been where he was: the right place at the right time.  That footage took the matter out of the hands of the governor, the widow and the videographer.

There must have been a loud gasp when they first brought the howler to the attention of the governor.  It is not difficult to imagine top Edo State administrators such as Professor Julius Ihonvbere and Patrick Obahiagbon wearing uncomfortable smiles and scratching their heads.

Governor Oshiomhole, immediately recognizing the error of his tongue, set about rectifying it.  In addition to his words, he took immediate action to improve the life of the family that had crossed his path so dramatically. 


When you think about it, the governor could easily have ignored the entire matter, knowing it would blow over in no time.  Nigeria does not have a history of its powerful showing any concern about what the people think or feel.

His response is a victory for democracy’s journey in Nigeria.  One of the reasons that Nigeria’s governing personnel often ignore the people is that they see no correlation between the citizen and their powerful offices. 

In Oshiomhole’s case, that is untrue.  He has shown faith in the voter since he contested the governorship, and has fought the political forces that had held the state to ransom.  In Oshiomhole’s Edo, votes, and voters, count.  As a result, it is not difficult for him to make the connection between the power he enjoys and those whose votes gave it to him.  Those who commit murders, give bribes and stuff ballot boxes to obtain power know they owe their power not to the voter, but to their bloodlessness.

In the crisis of governance in which Nigeria is embroiled, they hold the voter in contempt; they are driven by the nightmare that if they uplift the poor, they are somehow diminished.  They do not understand the concept either of Time, of transient power, of legacy, or of service. 

Governor Oshiomhole is to be praised for apologizing for his mistake over Mrs. Ifije, and for making his peace with Time.

But the governor must go one step further.  Helping one widow thrust into the limelight is to be applauded, and I join the applause, but it is not the question, let alone the answer.  A compassionate leader is a blessing, but the challenge that has been posed by this matter is: what do we do about widespread poverty? 

Governor Oshiomhole should go one step further and set an example for other states and governments in the country by responding to this challenge in creative ways. 

One such response might be small grants to the poorest under a Brazil-style Bolsa Familia system.  Using it, Brazil has lifted about 20 million people out of poverty in recent times.

If the burden of education and health are increasingly lifted from the shoulders of poor families through responsible policies, those small grants will go even further. 

The government may also want to consider broadening the education base through the establishment of a network of libraries, including mobile one, thereby extending reading facilities and cultivating the reading culture. Retired teachers can serve as resource persons.

Finally, Governor Oshiomhole may want to find a way to encourage the contributions of Edo State citizens abroad.  I know of several in the United States alone whose offer of expensive free equipment to universities and hospitals were rebuffed in recent times because the officials involved felt they were no personal gains in the arrangements.  Some of the equipment is still rotting away in the state.

How do we help the poor so they are not murdered by poverty?

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