IT
was just a few minutes to 13.00 hours and the service of songs was in
session when our chartered Caverton helicopter landed in ancient breezy
coastal community of Okoroba, hometown of Mr. Oronto Douglas, a senior
aide to President Goodluck Ebele Jonathan.
I
had flown with my Uncle, Engr. Mayne David-West, Principal Consultant
of Pearl Consultants, and George Kerley, Coordinator of The Jonathan
Project and an unrepentant crusader of the president.
We
proceeded directly to the venue of the Service of Songs. It was a ten
minutes walk from the school field where the helicopter had landed, and
it offered an opportunity to see the sprawling ancient community and the
new developments taking place. The people were very happy.
They
were seeing new faces – ministers; governors; commissioners; corporate
executives and citizens they only read about and saw in the news walk on
the new rigid pavements of their community.
I think above all, they wowed at the
Nollywood stars who dazzled the natives to disbelief. Ramsey Noah, Rita
Dominic, Segun Arinze et al, then the big masquerade – Kanu Nwankwo was
right there. I said to myself, the children of Okoroba Town would be
inspired by the time the body of Pa Douglas is finally laid to rest.
In this flourish and fanfare, he sat quiet, listening to the incisive message delivered by the Reverend Ayo Oritsejafor.
He seemed consumed by the pastor’s deep
rhetoric about how ephemeral life was, and how wealth and money were
necessary vanity but how a life well spent is eternal in value. Still, I
interrupted his intense engrossment.
He was excited to see me. We exchanged pleasantries and he asked that I stay around for a chat after the pastor’s message.
I did. The General was a towering man.
Dressed in a grey striped French suite and black shoes, I watched him
walk in his usual calculated steps as he left the tent to the other tent
where the reception for visitors was to be held.
He looked fresh, like he had rested
well after his surprising removal as National Security Adviser. His
warmth was charming and his humility ever evident. He was led to a
roundtable on the first row and he took his seat by his friend Engr.
Mayne David-West whom he hadn’t seen in months.
They chatted warmly while they poured
themselves a little champagne. He was served soup and he ate light. In
about forty-five minutes he was done. Just about then, he receives a
signal that the ill-fated helicopter was on its way.
He walked around to the other tables,
shook hands and made his way out. He was headed for the helicopter, but
he was obviously not in a hurry. He strolled with Governor Patrick
Yakowa, a governor whose humility endeared me to him.
Governor Yakowa spoke softly, greeted
warmly and smiled like he knew it was a final moment to be enjoyed. We
walked ahead of the Governor and the General, and in a few minutes we
were all at the Okoroba Primary School field.
There were a few chartered helicopters
arriving and taking off. The choppy drone of rotor blades slicing
through the air ruffled us a bit. The primary school was sufficiently
solicitous of intervention.
The classroom had neither doors nor
windows, in fact it looked abandoned. While we stood inside I asked why a
primary school in Mr. Douglas’s home would be this wrecked. I called a
young man, and in intense curiosity I began to question him.
My findings were that a new primary
school was being developed and new community library built and well
equipped. I was satisfied, I would have been disappointed.
Plenty caution
General Azazi watched these happen. Now
it was time to take him on. I had not seen him since his removal as
NSA. He was a deep man, and I was eager to hear him say something. I
knew him to be blunt in a very smart way.
He would not say a thing if he had not
thought it through intensely. I probed into his period as NSA and asked
what his take was on the Jonathan presidency. He had lost no love for
the President.
He said …”Ross, the president is very
intelligent and smarter than most people know”. He talked about the Boko
Haram issue with plenty caution, but was optimistic that the president
would check them.
Now, we were joined by the IYC
president, Mr. Miabiye Kuromiema, and I surprised the General when I
fired: “Sir, it is about time the president threw Mrs. Diezani
Allison-Madueke under the bus”.
I maintained that the Jonathan
presidency was haemorrhaging severely because of her continued stay as
minister. I expected him to say something, his face expressionless, he
remained quiet. George Kerley, a known defender of the honourable
minister, quipped with a straight face: “Ross, you are right.
It is time the president is told the
truth… He is taking too much bullets for some of these ministers”. The
General shook his head, not in approval or disapproval; he was just
enjoying the chat.
He brought up a few issues and we all
talked with surplus warmth. We hadn’t pressed him enough when the Navy
helicopter appeared within sight in the sky.
He offered us the two spare seats in
the helicopter, but we declined as our chopper was at that moment
already landing. He pulled George Kerley aside for a two-aside.
They talked for about two minutes, and
he joined Governor Yakowa again, as they strolled on the rigid pavement
into the boisterous windy path of the chopper. The pilots dismounted the
chopper to greet their VIP passengers; they looked smart in their
military uniform. It was the governor’s and the general’s final
handshake.
Seasoned pilot
Mr. Darego Williams, a seasoned pilot
turned business man was joining our chopper back to Port Harcourt. He
cringed at the manner the chopper had taken off and didn’t stop starring
at the effects of the rotor blades.
I noticed he was a little uncomfortable, but then he had been off the cockpit for over two decades, so he contained thoughts.
Less than ten minutes later, we were
ready to go. The captain welcomed us on board and soon after we were in
the air. We had just done about 10 nautical miles when the pilot
suddenly did a 180 degree turn.
Mr. Darego Williams was curious and
called on the captain. The captain apologized to all on board and
announced to us that a helicopter had just ‘gone down’. He actually
meant ‘crashed’. We were the first search party.
Less than a minute ahead, smoke plumed from the thick swampy forest. It was a clear sign of danger.
We did about four low fly passes to
capture the coordinates of incident site. Our helicopter had ingested
the smoke and smell of burning metals, wires and flesh. We could see the
helicopter and the appendage bearing the ‘NAVY’ inscription had severed
from the main body.
The moment was intense, we doubted the
very facts we knew. We all believed some miracle could have happened;
the worst case was not an option. It just could not be true.
Vanguard Nigeria
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