By Simon Mol
‘In today’s world only the powerful can pride themselves of a place called home. You can’t even say ‘Our World’ as there are those who own it, including you!’
Civilisation had indeed come a long way. Merely five years from the new millennium when the world was priding itself of great democratic achievements, the struggle for socio-political, economic and environmental justice was dealt a terminal blow when the Nigerian activist and writer Ken Saro-wiwa and eight others; BARIBOR BERA, SATURDAY DOBEE, NORDU EAWO, DANIEL GBOKOO, BARINEM KIOBEL, JOHN KPUINEN, PAUL LEVURA and FELIX NUATE, were hanged in broad daylight for lifting the voice of the Ogoni people of the Delta State of Nigeria. It was on the chilly morning of November 10, 1995. The world is still to come to terms with the ghastly act, which was perpetrated by a horde of self-declared Statesmen
From Tokyo to the District of Colombia, from Sydney to Delhi, rights activists and common folks who are conscious of the ongoing struggle to restore socio-political and economic equilibrium, joined their voices to plead for the lives of the condemned as their last hours drew near. Yet in the same capitals, not a single political figure raised a finger to dare the folly of Sani Abacha, then Nigerian president and head of the ruling military junta that was ready to swallow a seventeen-inch sword in its monstrous resolve to silence the voice of the Ogoni activists. By dusk of that fateful day, Ken Saro-wiwa and his disciples of justice were fatalities.
It was much more than just heads that rolled on that grave day in Port Harcourt, Nigeria. As Wiwa wriggled under the lethal loop, not only the circles of social and environmental activism suffered. The world of literature was also left mourning in lakes of tears, as the fallen hero was equally a adroit writer. His crime? —Denouncing the malicious exploitation of oil resources by oil and gas companies that filched riches from beneath the feet of the poor Ogoni farmers, and in return left them polluted and penniless. The world wept inconsolably and in so doing validated the last words of the valiant activist who said just before being hanged, ‘I’ll tell you this, I may be dead but my ideas will not die’.
November 10. 2005 stands out as the 10th anniversary of Wiwa’s death, and true to his words, his ideas and examples haven’t shown any sign of withering— instead they are flouring like flowers buoyed up by nature. Plans and projects have been lined up by organizations worldwide to highlight this special anniversary. Some of the organizations and Associations that have thrown their weight behind the anniversary include; African Writers Abroad, Amnesty International, Christian Aid, Diversity Art Forum, English PEN, Friends of the Earth, Green peace, Human Rights Watch, Index on Censorship, International PEN, Mayor of London, Minorities of Europe, Anita & Gordon Roddick, South Bank Centre, SpinWatch, PEN America WEST, and many, many more.
Literary organizations in particularly have taken it upon themselves to deplore Wiwa’s forceful and macabre extinction more than other groups. The reason isn’t farfetched. In his struggle literature was one of the instruments he used to bring the plight of his people to the forefront of international deliberation. In the short-story Night Ride Saro-Wiwa illustrated the struggle he was up against with exceptional literary skill through the emotions of his characters in the following interaction;
An old woman had hobbled up to him. My son, they arrived this morning and dug up my entire farm, my only farm. They mowed down the toil of my brows, the pride of the waiting months. They say they will pay me compensation. Can they compensate me for my labours? The joy I receive when I see the vegetables sprouting, God's revelation to me in my old age? Oh my son, what can I do?
What answer now could he give her? I'll look into it later, he had replied tamely.
Look into it later. He could almost hate himself for telling that lie. He cursed the earth for spouting oil, black gold, they called it. And he cursed the gods for not drying the oil wells. What did it matter that millions of barrels of oil were mined and exported daily, so long as this poor woman wept those tears of despair? What could he look into later? Could he make alternate land available? And would the lawmakers revise the laws just to bring a bit more happiness to these unhappy wretches whom the search for oil had reduced to an animal existence? They ought to send the oil royalties to the men whose farms and land were despoiled and ruined. But the lawyers were in the pay of the oil companies and the government people in the pay of the lawyers and the companies. So how could he look into it later?
Taking into consideration that his opponents were two gigantic entities; the state of Nigeria and Shell, even if he paid with his life, it could be argued that Ken Saro-wiwa and his kinsmen didn’t lose the battle, far from it. Instead, their struggle, execution and what followed shows the ultimate strength of the human will, particularly that dreams can last longer than life.
The blame falls squarely on the rulers of his day, as the trial and execution of Wiwa and his mates was decreed by Sani Abacha, one of the most notorious dictators the world had ever seen. In fact he was so down deep the hole of madness that these are the words he reversed for Nelson Mandela when the later voiced his rancor over the execution of Wiwa and his friends; ‘You were so long in detention that you have lost touch with reality’. Perhaps, in spite of his insanity Abacha was right? Perhaps Mandela is to good, too forgiving, to humanistic? Perhaps Nelson Mandela spent so long in detention that he had lost count of the political reality of our times, and therefore couldn’t comprehend to what extent evil was the order of the day in political terms? How else could one explain the fact that world leaders looked the way while Abacha belched fume and furry over the heads of the activist with disturbing impunity? Is it that only the will and ways of evil men matters? Is justice exempted from the doctrine of globilisation? How am I, or you reading this, can come to terms with what a reputable anthropologist told me in the course of a casual conversation in the heart of the 21st Century? -- ‘I am totally against the decision to send food-aid to victims of famine in Africa and other parts of the world. The victims should be allowed to die—this is how nature purifies itself and takes care of population growth’. How to defend such a morose display of inhumanity?
An anthology of poems titled ‘Dancing the Guns to Silence’, showcasing the poems of more than 100 top African and world poets will be released on November 10th to commemorate the 10th anniversary of Wiwa’s death. Contributions were received from Australia, New Zealand, Scotland, Mexico, South Africa, Uganda, Zimbabwe, Singapore, Malaysia, Bangladesh, Canada, written in English, Bangladeshi, Italian, Catalan, Patios, Castillian and Scots, with themes centering on; Ken Saro-Wiwa: the Legacy - Freedom of expression; resistance (literary and otherwise); imprisonment; non-violence; political oppression; leadership. Social and Ecological Justice: Minority rights exile/displacement/refugees; war, peace, poverty, justice; equity; the death penalty; pollution; climate change; the right to appropriate/sustainable development; power (and the abuse thereof); capitalism and corporations. The title of the anthology was inspired by Saro-Wiwa's poem 'Dance'. According to Flipped Eye Publishing the publisher of the anthology, ‘What has resulted is an anthology of strong and thoughtful poems of tribute, ranging from words of social consciousness to hard hitting images and moving stories’. Renowned British writer William Boyd says of the anthology, ‘A heartfelt, tremendously moving and hugely powerful testimonial to a great man. Ken Saro-Wiwa would be both proud and exhilarated to have these poets speaking for him and for his enduring struggle’. The anthology shall be launched in cities across the globe including London, Washington DC, Philadelphia, New Jersey, Birmingham, Sydney, Auckland, in Cyprus, etc.
Perhaps remembering Saro-wiwa and his colleagues is a little way in identifying with the Ogoni struggle, which is undeniably synonymous with what minority groups from one end of our planet to the other experience on a daily basis;
The Bakweri Vs the government of Cameroon, Tibet Vs China, The Maw Rees Vs New Zealand, Bask Vs the Spanish government, Ireland Vs England, The Aborigines Vs Australia, The Natives Vs the Americas, Chechnya Vs Russia—simply put, simple folks Vs systems run by folks who have forfeited their simplicity… for how much? For a fee higher than what Jesus-the artist and dreamer was sold by his buddy? For those ready to take me to task for calling Jesus an artist and dreamer, your challenge is welcomed. You can consider this as a slap on your cheek. But please do challenge me by initially reflecting in your life just 10% of what Jesus stood for. Start with showing the other cheek… I am ready to slap it also!
Simon Mol.
Warsaw: November 1st 2005
Saro Wiwa picture, courtesy Sierra club
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