Rotarian Yusuf Alli and my reminiscences

The investiture of my friend and professional colleague, Alhaji Yusuf Alli, as the 11th President of Rotary Club, Abuja Maitama, last weekend, has left me with a cud of nostalgia to chew. My first contact with the Rotary International (Nigeria) dates back to the mid-80s in Jos. I had found myself being pulled in different directions by three clubs, namely, the Jos Polo Club, the Plateau Golf Club and the Jos Chapter of the Rotary Club.

Chief Sunday Lawuyi, the Managing Director of SALCO Nigeria Ltd, a perfume manufacturing firm located along Masallachi Juma’a Street, Jos, and a good friend of my brother-in-law, was a staunch, non-riding member of the Jos Polo Club. The industrialist was like an uncle to me. He was asked to persuade me to join the club with a promise to provide me with a pony. I ruminated over the offer and I would have been seduced by the sport of the kings (as polo is fondly referred to) but I got scared when I remembered the tragic fate that befell a onetime civilian Governor of the old Sokoto state, Alhaji Sani Kangiwa, who fell off his horse and was trampled to death by an arsenal of horses during a match. I smartly declined the offer, using my tight schedule as the Editor of the Sunday Standard as a perfect alibi. However, I assured the wooing officials of my cooperation anytime they needed coverage which was the main reason they wanted to suck me in.

The Plateau Golf Club also believed that to get maximum publicity, they needed to commandeer me into the club as a playing member. The state’s golf coach, Lawal (can’t remember his first name), a lively buddy, exhausted his kit of tricks to no avail… he failed to seduce me. Golfing was/is not as life-threatening as polo. As a sportswriter, I knew a lot about golf. There is always the inherent danger of twisting your waist which was common among golfers while teeing off. I also resisted the temptation, using the same alibi. Tiger Woods, Rory Mcllroy (as if you don’t remember them), who suffered multiple waist injuries in the course of their career, later proved me right.

The Rotary Club of Jos then came calling. Mr. Mike Gandonou was the Principal of the Citizenship and Leadership Training Centre, situated at Shere Hills, near Jos. He was a dyed-in-the-wool, active Rotarian. The club craved publicity too. Membership of the club posed no distraction to me except that it would gnaw at my tight schedule… but not as much as the other two clubs. Besides my normal schedule as Editor, I was running two weekly columns, namely Saturday Commentary (sports) and The Man From PPC (humour). Mr. Gandonou was a very close friend, so persuasive he could convince you to walk into the den of lions unarmed! On several occasions, he saddled me with paper presentations whenever he had new students at the Centre… assignments I would grudgingly accept because of my tight schedule.

Eventually, I had to lower my resistance. After all, there was less or no danger whatsoever by being a Rotarian. We used to meet at the Hill Station Hotel, Jos, every Wednesday (or was it Thursday?), where we discussed Rotary activities and programmes over dinner. When I joined the club, I looked forward to making new friends. But as it turned out, virtually everyone in the club was known to me. Mr. William Adjkughele was the President of the branch and there was never a dull moment whenever he presided; he had an incredible sense of humour.

There was a joke he once shared with us that has remained evergreen till date. It was an encounter with a lady who was stranded in a town while on transit. A fellow (male) passenger offered to accommodate her in the only hotel room that was available for the night. The duo had to pretend to be a married couple. On retiring to bed after a sumptuous meal, the lady planted a pillow between her and her bedmate. Throughout the night, the man behaved like a complete gentleman… he did not cross the red line.

The next morning, they checked out of the hotel, boarded a cab and headed for the park to continue their trip. Somewhere along the way, breeze yanked off the lady’s scarf and transported it across a fence. The cab pulled to a stop and the man offered to go and rescue the scarf. But the lady told the man not to bother, saying “If you could not cross over a demarcation as low as a pillow, how would you scale over the fence?” The foundation of the venue was shaken with laughter.

I remained a committed member of the club for close to three years until a situation arose during the Buhari-Idiagbon regime. I was arrested and locked up for a night at the Police CID over a report in my paper that the law enforcement agents (police) were not doing their job to stem the tide of (illegal) Indian hemp farming in Wase Local Government Area of Plateau state. My crime reporter, Steve Raymond, had filed the story which I gave prominence on the cover page. Rather than go after the criminals, the police authorities turned the heat on my reporter and locked him up for 40 days without charging him to court! When they eventually did, the prosecutor wanted to use me as a witness. I laughed down their ridiculous request.

The truth was that my reporter had become a thorn in the flesh of the police command in the state under the watch of Commissioner of Police, Alhaji Sani Wali. Eventually, a funny charge was prepared against the two of us for reporting that the law enforcers were not alive to their responsibilities. By so doing, we had impugned the reputation of the police, an offence triable under the draconian Decree No. 4! Incidentally, Sani turned out to be an in-law to the Head of State, Gen. Muhammadu Buhari. Everyone around dreaded him.  The newspaper’s lawyer, Barr. Niyi Oyetunde, did not help matters. As our defence counsel, he panicked and argued that by the report, we had maligned all security agencies and even the head of state!

As a reward for refusing to cooperate with the police, they roped me in, but my arrest caught international media attention. The next day, we were charged to a Chief Magistrate’s Court, Jos, presided by our very good friend, Aya Bako Ayas, who promptly granted us bail on self recognition. We were to be packaged for Lagos to face trial under the decree. By that time, Tunde Thompson and Nduka Iraboh, both of the Guardian Newspapers, were on the cusp of their freedom, having been tried and jailed under the decree. And we just came handy as perfect replacements!

However, the unexpected happened. While we were waiting to be transported to Lagos, fate smiled on us… Gen. Ibrahim Babangida effected a change of guards and the trial evaporated.

During the travail, I got the shock of my life by the attitude of my Rotarian friends. There was no visitation team from the club either at home or in my office, let alone showing up at the court to solidarise with one of their own. I was disappointed beyond words. I complained to Dr. Tom Adaba (as if you don’t remember him), who had joined the club before me. But he gave me a sucker punch! When his residence was gutted by fire, long before I became a Rotarian, the club did not send a delegation on a sympathy visit to him. There and then, I made up my mind to withdraw my membership.

I hope things have changed with the global humanitarian body over the years. I salute Alhaji Yusuf Alli, a jolly good fellow and an achiever, on his investiture and wish him a successful tenure. Our paths first crossed about 12 years ago shortly after I relocated to Abuja from Jos. I had approached him for a favour as a professional colleague and he obliged me. First impression, it is said, is last impression. The gangling workaholic might have forgotten how we met; I have not. I trust him to transport the Maitama chapter of the club to higher heights.

Iwo lokan!