Mujaheed Dokubo-Asari, leader of the Niger Delta Volunteer Force, on Sunday, June 1, 2014, celebrated his 50th birthday in Abuja. The next day, he spoke to newsmen on a number of issues, including his upbringing, his schooling, his radicalisation, and his struggles; President Jonathan’s style of governance and his 2015 aspiration, and the general insecurity in the country, reports Terhemba Daka.
COULD you describe your life at 50?
Ah, my life at 50? My experience? How am I going to put it? Well, I got into the university at the age of 21 in 1985 — the University of Calabar. And from that age, death became my constant companion at every turn.
During the anti-SAP riots after the demonstration in Jos, students in the University of Calabar also demonstrated. We were demonstrating outside the main campus when the police started shooting.
There was a female student, Nnenna, behind me. She was shot. She fell. I started wondering. I was taller than her; how come she got shot standing behind me? How did the bullet pass me to hit her?
I carried her with all the blood and everything. Though it was not fatal, from that day, I decided, inside me, that the Nigerian state must be made to explain to the people, to my people, especially what they were doing with the resources of the people.
As a Law student, I knew the law says, “Quid quid planteture sele sele sedit” (He who owns the land owns everything in the land.)
And I asked myself, how come the resources of my people now belong to everybody? A lot of questions and it was a turning point in my life! I became radicalised.
In 1988, when I was rusticated from the University of Calabar, I decided to go to Libya. So, I left home.
I converted into Islam, took the kalimah on the 17th of September (and on the) 21st of September, I took the bath and became a Muslim at the Calabar central mosque, which at that time was managed by some Yoruba people.
I took the kalimah at Bokobiri mosque. And from that time, I became radicalised. One goal I set for myself was the liberation of my people and I wanted the military.
At that time, as a student unionist, as the President, National Union of Rivers State Students, I had read so much about revolution and my greatest attraction was Libya and I decided to go to Libya.
So, I took a night bus and dropped at Jos. From Jos, I continued to Kafanchan, to Saminaka, and down to Leri, Zaria — so many places until I got to Kano.
From Kano, I passed through Dutse. Then, Damaturu was a small town. I got to Maiduguri, and from Maiduguri to Marite.
I was just going until I got to Gamboringala. From there, I got to Gambori France; from there to Kusiri, to Jamina, to Eir and to Agadese in Niger Republic.
It was much easier for me as a Muslim because I joined them to pray and so on. I saw many deaths on the road. People wanted to go to Europe and so on. When I couldn’t enter Libya at that time; I had to come back.
My father had secured a new admission for me at the Rivers State University of Science and Technology. So, I had to go back to the university to continue with my Law programme.
From that radicalisation, I started to join different groups. I set up one called CCC — Committee of Collective Conscience, which was a Marxist Movement for change in our society, and I started talking to people.
When I went back to school, I discovered I had lost interest in formal education. From then, I started confronting state authority. I aligned with progressive forces.
But you know, I really don’t see any progressive force in Nigeria. I was in PSP. From there, I went to Peoples Front by (formed by the late Gen. Shehu Musa) Yar’Adua. From there, I joined the NCP. I became a little bit prominent in the party because of my ideological stand.
After the wrongful annulment of June 12, coupled with the role I played during the June 12 election, I began to think more and more about confronting the Nigerian state militarily. I believed that that’s the only way that freedom could come to our people.
And that was the period the Ijaws started gathering because of the movement that was going on in Ogoni land. It influenced and imparted on Ijaw people.
I joined the movement for survival of Ijaw Ethnic Nationality in the Niger Delta. I aligned with them and put in my contribution from what T.K. Ogoriba was doing.
We joined together and from there, it metamorphosed into the Ijaw Youth Council (IYM), the Kaiama Declaration. But before then, we had formed another group named Kirimani, which was more military than civil.
But a lot of our people did not understand the ideological trust of our struggle and most times, we kept of moving and formed other organisations. In this, we discovered that there was a lot of injustice in the Nigerian state and some of us could not stomach it.
In all this period, I became a regular guest of the State Security Services (SSS) and the Nigeria Police and sometimes the Military because when we went out to carry out a march, the police would come. We also had confrontations with the Army. So, I became a regular face with the State Security Services.
During NADECO National Democratic Coalition), the role I played is well-known to the people who were in the NADECO underground: From Chief Otunba Ekunba, Dr. Ekpo, Dr. M.T. Akobo to late Baba Omojola to Ola Oni and Gen. Akirinade and several others.
I always like to be on the side of the people. So, for me, the struggle has become my life.
SPECIFICALLY speaking, did you decide to take this path of life because of the shooting back in the University of Calabar or were there some other incidences?
No, no, no. I think the Calabar incident was the first time I was seeing live bullets, and canisters of tear gas flying.
It was the first time because being the son of a legal practitioner — at that time, my father was the Director of Public Prosecutions in Rivers State and having lived in the Government Reserved Areas for a very long time — my experience with the outside world was very minimal (limited).
As a young man, yes, we interacted in school but after school, you run home. A driver comes to pick you and so on and so forth. I was not living in boarding house or alone; I was living with my parents.
But it was in school that I came to realise that this struggle we were involved in, you could just die. Whether you are really involved or not, you could just die because the lady behind me was not throwing any stone; she was not doing any thing. We, who were in the front, singing, shouting, clapping and jumping, the bullet did not touch us.
So, basically, what really motivated you?
What motivated me was my encounter with those things that happened and my encounter with Boro. When I read Boro’s 12-Day Revolution, and after reading Simon Ambakarderemo’s book on Isaac Adaka Boro, a play, then I decided that I wanted to follow the path that Boro followed.
With the student activism in school and the principal position that I took in most of the cases, it became very clear that the only way we could solve these problems was by armed struggle.
But armed struggle has been suspended for some time now. For instance, have we made any dividend? Has any concession been made to us? Are our enemies not emboldened now?
For one, I believe that one gunshot is more effective than a thousand years of dialogue, a thousand years of talks and endless negotiations, a thousand years of persuasion and sermonisation. One gunshot is more effective!
Even when it involves deaths of human beings?
Yes! Because, if a man takes your right, he has killed you, and if a man takes your property, he has killed you.
So, where would you place what Boko Haram members are doing, because they are carrying arms, too?
I cannot speak for Boko Haram, for whatever reason they are fighting. If they were fighting because they want to impose their ideologies on other people by force and the people fold their arms and allow them to impose their ideologies on them, why would you blame them? Did they tie the people’s hand?
What they are fighting is not a good fight. It is not because you have to respect every other person’s belief; you have to respect every other person’s ideology, whether you like it or not because this is a multinational nation. There are so many nations that are involved in this country. So, it is multinational.
YOUR struggle then was full of risks. How was it like leading a group of young men in the creeks?
It is one of the most delicate and dangerous phases of my life. Having lived in GRA in Port Harcourt with so many people; having lived in that environment and now chose to go to the fishing port to stay where there were no birds, where when there’s high tide, water enters; sometimes, snakes will be hanging on the ceiling — there was even no ceiling; it was just the thatch; the sticks that criss-crossed to support the house, you will see the snake, maybe python hanging, you will see water entering and you are staying there; it was completely different from the life of somebody who was living at Ernest Ikoli Street, Old GRA, very close to government or at Akassa Street. It’s quite different: No light. No pipe-borne water. No nothing!
Did you have any encounters with the Army?
Yeah. It was a hide-and-seek game. The military is looking for you and you are looking for the military. Sometimes, you come to a truce. The military sees you, they don’t shoot you; they pretend they are not seeing you. You, too, you don’t shoot them; you pretend you are not seeing them.
And then, when the people in Abuja said, “Where were you when they said there was Operation Locust Feast, where were you?” then, the military will come. They want to prove a point. They want to shoot.
Sometimes, they would call us and say, ‘You, you, please, we are just doing our work o. We are actually doing our work o. You want to shoot and kill us.”
We, too, would not agree. Then, they would shoot and there would be a battle. One thing led to another and it’s just a ding-dong — this way, that way and it became more and more dangerous.
(Former Governor Peter) Odili had his militia. The militia would be looking for you. They were even more than the military. So, you were tackling the military and the state-sponsored militia. So, every day, it was about death.
Could you relate a particular occurrence?
There was an incident. One day, we were coming from St. Bartholomew River. We were passing through the creeks to Idaman, one of the oil-producing communities.
As we were crossing, almost reaching to the centre of Sombryo, trying to enter New Calabar River, we saw two naval gunships, as they were coming.
There was no way they would not stop us. We were armed. We were just three persons in the boat: myself, my cousin Dakaro, who is late and another cousin of mine, who was driving.
As if something instigated me, I put my hand in the water and I started raining curses on the deity of Kalabari. I said, “Today, you will be disgraced forever. Today, you will be ashamed. Your land will be conquered and ravished. I think you said you are a god.”
After I did that, I threw the water into the sky and day turned into night. Darkness was moving as if it was propelled by something. And it covered the whole sky.
And the naval gunships passed us. Their wave was tossing us up and down. They didn’t see us. They even had lights on. After about 30 minutes, the darkness cleared. No drop of rain. Nothing.
There were so many encounters that one had seen. You see these injuries on my body? (I was with) my friend, my companion, a very close aide. The bomb we were carrying exploded and his head got cut-off. I did not die and I was standing with him. Nothing happened to me, just these injuries.
Would you say that God has been so gracious to you?
Wow! I don’t even know how to say it. If I was not a believer in God, I will say that this God has been partial towards me. He has been terribly partial towards me because I never thought I would be alive by now to live up to 50.
How is that possible? I could have died on my way to Libya. I could have died in the creeks. All the plots and plans, I would have died long time ago. But I did not die. All the seventy something arrests; yet, I did not die.
Tell us more on the arrests because we recall you were a regular guest to the offices of security agencies.
Arrest was a regular thing. I can’t really tell. I became used to arrest. In fact, the police and SSS in Port Harcourt, maybe they advised the government, saying, “Please, just leave this guy alone. This guy, arrest no dey do am anything. (Laughing and speaking in pidgin). Just leave him alone. The guy enjoys getting arrested.”
Yes, that was one of the greatest undoing of (former President Olusegun) Obasanjo because he thought I could be cowed. Go and look at my trial videos and see. There is trial like that where the Judge was put in the dock. I was the one questioning the Judge. It’s not possible.
So, the government, and Obasanjo really, really did not understand the type of person he was dealing with. Maybe in Nigeria, there were no such people then. Today, we have Boko Haram. So, a new group of people has started.
Were you ever taken to any dungeon...?
(Cuts in) I was in the SSS underground for 10 months and 11 days, in solitary confinement.
How did you cope?
I would have run mad — many people did — but because I had memorised parts of the Qu’ran. So, instead of talking to myself, I just recited the Qu’ran. That was what kept me alive.
If I had not memorised the Qu’ran, I would have been mad. Talking to yourself is a different thing. But this one, you are reading, edifying your soul. It increases your spirit; it is wakening your spirit. So, that was it
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