and given me the choice of withdrawing, because that was what I offered to begin with. Like most
practical politicians, Atiku would justify his actions on two grounds - my offer to withdraw is
politically naive, and the bribery is just a price to pay to get a ‘good man’ into public office to do
even greater good. Atiku would also calculate that N50 million is worth paying to have one of 'his
boys' in the cabinet! Like Mantu and Charles Osuji, these 'practical' people believe they have the best
of intentions, but it is this kind of conduct that has under-developed our nation and is now
accelerating our descent into ruin.
A couple of weeks later, around the middle of August of 2003, I had been on the job for about a month
or so when the Abuja Bureau Chief of The Guardian newspaper, Martins Oloja, came to interview
me. Martins had shown uncommon commitment to the development of Abuja, first as editor of the
defunct Abuja Newsday, before joining The Guardian, which was among the most credible
newspapers in Nigeria at the time. I decided to blow the whistle through the paper. Oloja asked all
sorts of questions, including about the unproved allegations that Sadiq Petroleum fronted for the Vice
President in acquiring African Petroleum. I gave a lengthy explanation of the process that led to the
emergence of Sadiq. I ended with the assertion that ..."We operate in a climate of suspicion; and no
matter what you do people will always suspect (you of corruption).”
Now it was my turn to drop the bomb.
“It was like when I was nominated for ministerial appointment. A couple of Senators called
me and said I had made money as D-G of BPE and so to make sure I get cleared, I had to pay
them N54 million. I was asked this question because people think if you are in (such)
position, you make money. But what they do not know is that I actually came out of that job in
debt. I still have debts but nobody believes that. ”[37]
Oloja was shocked. He asked if I really wanted this statement published, because the Senate would
surely ask me to prove it.
“Martins, nobody looks for witnesses when asking for a bribe,” I told him. “I can’t prove
anything directly but I am prepared to do so circumstantially. It happened. I can tell my story,
if people believe it, fine, if they do not, that is fine too.”
He did not ask for the senators’ names. I did not offer their names. I just told him to go ahead and
publish it. He came back a week or so later to tell me that that portion of the interview had been
removed before sending it to Lagos. I shrugged, knowing that I will have other opportunities to repeat
the allegation. But the bribery demand story subsequently appeared in the Sunday Guardian a few
days later, on August 31, 2003. All hell, needless to say, broke loose.
The senators at first attempted to sow confusion. Two newspapers, the Punch and Guardian,
published stories based on a fictitious official statement purportedly issued by my chief press
secretary, Kingsley Agha, denying the substance of the interview. [38] We later learnt that Mantu and
Zwingina were behind the stories. So we immediately issued a certified statement of our own
explaining that the other statement was false. I confirmed that I did give the interview and I was
prepared to appear before the Senate and name names. All through September 2003, nothing captured
the imagination of the media more than the "Senate Bribery Scandal." Other newspapers latched onto
it. ThisDay newspaper published an editorial titled "El-Rufai and His Bribery Allegation" , while
Eniola Bello, one of the nation's most respected columnists, weighed in, demanding: "Will the
Distinguished Senate Rise?” It became clear that this matter would not go away as the senate
leadership no doubt wished it would.
Of course, I started to receive threats, which I still on occasion do to this day. Obasanjo was enjoying
all of this drama thoroughly. It was only then that I began to figure out what was going on between the
president and his deputy. Obasanjo had kept a safe distance from it all, quietly and constantly assuring
me of his support, which he publicly signalled by accompanying me to flag off the demolition
exercise to clear illegal structures within days of the publication.
Soon after I gave the interview to The Guardian, I met Atiku and shared what I learnt from my
banking sources and asked him why he paid off the two senators.
“I did not pay off any one.”
“No, my friends at your bank confirmed that you paid 50 million naira to Zwingina around the
time they made the demand of me.”
“True, we paid him such an amount, but it was campaign debt,” the vice president responded.
“It has nothing to do with you or your confirmation. Zwingina was the coordinator of the
Obasanjo-Atiku presidential campaign in the North-East zone including my state, Adamawa,
and there were debts incurred for which we had not reimbursed him. The debt was 150
million, we still owe him another 100 million, that payment was part of a payment for that
debt, go and check.”
“And how exactly do I check?”
“Look, Nasir you better believe me, that is all there is to it. How much did they ask you for?”
“Fifty-four million.”
“What we paid was 50 million. Why was it not 54?”
“I just figured you had negotiated it down.”
“No, I do not even know anything about this; you’re the one who told me about the demand
made. I called them, met with Zwingina and told both of them off. I did not know the exact
amount of money they asked you for.”
“Ok, Your Excellency,” I said. “But this thing is out in the public space. I will be invited to
the senate to testify. I will be under oath, and if they ask me whether I know you have paid, I
will say I do not know, but I have heard”
“They will not ask you that.”
What happened subsequently is amply documented in newspapers, but it culminated in a Senate
committee investigation into the matter. I appeared before the committee, swore on the Qu’ran, and
read a prepared speech, in which I recounted what happened and named the senators who asked me
for N54 million. I did not go beyond that – without any mention of what I had learned about Atiku
paying them off because I had no direct evidence. I just narrated exactly what I witnessed.40 Seated
with me during the testimony were my lawyer and trusted friend, Asue Ighodalo, and colleagues in the
economic team, Finance Minister Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala and “Madam Due Process”, Mrs. Oby
Ezekwesili.
Senators Mantu and Zwingina were then invited by the committee. Mantu is a Muslim as well, but he
declined to swear on the Qur’an, which, to every Muslim meant that whatever he said was unlikely to
be the truth. Any Muslim who wishes to speak the truth will take the Qur’an in his hands to affirm or
swear by it. Zwingina also declined to touch the Bible but simply affirmed his intention to
truthfulness. In the end, I learnt from another senator, that the senate went into what is called
“executive session,” in which the public gallery was cleared so that the senators could have a frank
conversation. In that session, both the accused senators admitted to their colleagues that they had
indeed demanded payments from me and other nominees, but then asked their colleagues to cover
them
because the reputation of the entire senate was on the line, and in any case, other senators have
been as culpable at other times. The Senate therefore cleared them of the allegations, on the basis that
I had no proof other than to say God was my witness.
I was neither surprised nor disappointed by the Senate’s decision. For me personally, the most
significant support at this time came not only from some of the friends already mentioned, but my
immediate family that stood solidly by me throughout. Mallam Yahaya Hamza, the father-figure who
brought me up and educated me, granted an interview to the Punch[39] after Mantu and Zwingina got
their ‘not guilty’ verdict, stating,"I am ready to swear by the Holy Qu’ran that Nasir, my son, did not
lie." He added: "...I can tell you that Nasir does not lie and so he cannot wake up to cook such a lie
against the two senators without it being true.” Other newspapers similarly ran editorials on the
matter.
Such was the inauspicious beginning of my relationship with the Senate, which has remained so to
this day. They had clearly felt affronted, but over time I became even more convinced that the
behaviour of the legislature of the Fourth Republic is partly driven by some selfish elements united in
one vast conspiracy to pillage the country. Many are complicit. The only time they break ranks is if
one of them cheats the others, collecting money without spreading it around. That is treasonable
felony in our National Assembly. Otherwise the mafia code of silence, omerta, is scrupulously
observed.
Obasanjo won’t complete his term; the Marabout said so
Why was Obasanjo indifferent to my leaking this senate bribery story to the press? Let’s start at the
beginning.
When Obasanjo began his first term, the unwritten compact he had with Vice-President Atiku
Abubakar was that Obasanjo would be Nigeria’s face to the outside world and spend most of his time
repairing Nigeria’s badly disfigured image, courting investors and getting us external debt relief.
Atiku was essentially to run domestic policy. This meant tactically that Atiku would be the politician,
the domestic policy guru, and dealmaker, and would take charge of building the network and
accumulating the war chest both Obasanjo and Atiku would need for re-election in 2003. Obasanjo,
international statesman, would go hang out with the likes of Tony Blair and Bill Clinton, focus on
regional stability, national defence, foreign policy, the UN, fighting malaria, wrestling with the AIDS
pandemic-- that sort of thing. Obasanjo, a co-founder of Transparency International, would remain
clean and above board, while Atiku, the former customs officer, would do the deals needed with the
politicians, the legislature, and the contractors, oiling the political machine and preparing the ground
necessary for re-election.
For a while, it worked. Atiku was very influential in the first Obasanjo term. Anyone who wanted any
sort of contract with the federal government or some important board appointment had to go to Atiku.
If Nigeria were France, Atiku would have essentially been the prime minister rather than a VP.
Eventually, I think Atiku’s circle got a bit carried away because they had all this influence, power and
money at their disposal and they thought these were natural, and normal entitlements of the VP’s
office, and the financial, physical and political perks that came with it.
I recall that one day, after an especially vile quarrel I had with Obasanjo over the frustration of the
privatization of Nigeria Airways, I came to the point at which I had seriously considered resigning
from the BPE. When I walked into Atiku’s office, and while still standing up expressed my frustration
and intentions, he motioned for me to sit down.
“Where are you going? You can’t leave,” he said. “We are about to have the whole thing.”
I was taken aback as I was not sure what he meant.
“What do you mean, Sir?”
He then told me about a marabout in Cameroon who had been in touch with him since the very first
time he contested for state governor in his home state of Gongola, now Adamawa and Taraba States.
At the time, the marabout had told him not to waste his time because he was not going to win, and he
lost. The second time he tried, the soothsayer supposedly told him he was going to lose, and lo and
behold, he lost again. The third time he attempted to be governor, so the story goes, the marabout told
him he was going to win the election, but he was not going to actually become the governor. And so it
came to pass. Atiku won the election, but before he could take office, Obasanjo chose him to be his
running mate. On the strength of this fable, Atiku appeared to have placed his faith in the predictions
of this marabout.
“Nasir, this ‘mallam’ has been consistently right in his predictions.”
“Wow, that is very interesting sir, but what does this have to do with my resignation?”
“Because the same mallam said that Obasanjo will not complete his first term.”
“Really?”
“Yes. So why do you want to go? When I am president, we are going to take charge of this
place and fix it and I will need you. You are one of my best people.”
Personally, I do not believe in all this marabout stuff, though many people I know do. After Atiku
shared this momentous prediction with me, what could I do? My hands were effectively tied from
taking any immediate action. So I said, “Fine, Mr. Vice-President, I will hang in there.” One must
never under-estimate the influence of both Islamic and Christian spiritualists on African politicians.
For instance at the height of the Obasanjo-Atiku feud between 2005 and 2006, Uba Sani, my friend
and Special Assistant to Obasanjo on Public Communications, shared a one-page list of predictions
by a mallam purportedly obtained from Atiku's camp, predicting that Obasanjo would die in March
2007, with Atiku being sworn in as president. With all this floating around, it was easy for the unwary
to become intoxicated, and for vaulting ambition to prevail over common sense.
In August of 2002, Atiku called a meeting of what he called his three closest advisers: Dr. Usman
Bugaje, who was his political adviser and a close friend, Nduka Obaigbena, the publisher of
ThisDay, and I. We met in a guest house off Aso Drive, which some years later I would purchase as
part of the federal government sale of houses programme. Atiku thought his residence may not be
secure enough so he asked us to meet him at the guest house because he wanted to speak freely and
very confidentially.
At the meeting he told us that he had been having meetings for the past several months with two
groups of politicians. One group (called G4) consisted of President Ibrahim Babangida, and General
Abdulsalami Abubakar, both of whom were former military heads of state, as well as General Aliyu
Gusau, who has been National Security Adviser almost forever. The four of them had been meeting to
review Obasanjo’s performance and they had concluded that Obasanjo’s first term up to that point
had been a disaster, the National Assembly had twice tried to impeach him, and the four of them had
just thought that Obasanjo should not have a second term. In their meetings, according to Atiku, they
decided that since Atiku was the incumbent vice-president, he should have the first shot at the
presidency.
Now, it was a well-known fact then that President Babangida harboured a similar ambition. Yet,
Atiku believed that Babangida, who is also older, would step back for him to have the first shot. He
did not see it as a trap. The moment he told us, it did not sound right. As I learned much later, this was
Babangida’s ploy to prove to Obasanjo that Atiku, given the slightest opportunity, would stab him in
the back. When the four of them began meeting and discussing Nigeria’s problems, Babangida
allegedly called Obasanjo and informed him. Obasanjo had repeatedly told anyone who tried to
question Atiku's fidelity to him that their partnership was a Catholic marriage, indissoluble, till death
do them part. Babangida is reported to have said, “You see, we have started something. I will keep
you briefed, but at the end of it, your VP will betray you.”
Some years later, Obasanjo confirmed to me that Atiku had come when the meetings began and
recommended that Obasanjo should reach out to the other three, because they did not seem pleased
with him. Up to that point, either Atiku was faithful to his boss, or was simply taking out insurance by
providing partial information. When they had the second meeting, he reportedly went back to
Obasanjo and said, “I think this meeting is becoming regular and they have named the group G4. I do
not know what the objectives are but I will keep you briefed.” So up to that point, Obasanjo had full
confidence in Atiku. But IBB allegedly kept calling Obasanjo, telling him that they would get to a
point whereby Atiku would abandon him. This implied that G4 was nothing more than a manufactured
The Accidental Public Servant Page 25
