by Ifeanyi Mbanefo

 Right from the beginning, Jahman understood the redemptive powers of the arts, its ability to humanize the society, to save souls and to clarify the purpose of our very existence.

Iconic historian, Richard Hofstadter, once said that America is the only nation in history that believes it was born perfect and (always) strives for improvement. Nigeria, on the other hand, believes it was born imperfect (mistake of 1914, mere geographical expression, you often hear, and always) strives to establish that ‘truth’.

The American, you could say, is a dreamer who holds steadfastly to a myth; the Nigerian a realist who tends to self-immolation. The myth has not only made America the richest nation in the world, but also has sired other myths: the American perfection at home and exceptionalism in the world. Good dreams beget good destiny.

This is perhaps why one must shudder at Nigeria’s hard-headed realism – we were born imperfect; so we must erase that mistake – that has sired destruction, corruption, ethnicity, and religious bigotry.

Nigeria needs its dreamers – dreamers of a certain quality: those who know their minds and stand on moral high grounds.

This rather long prelude helps, I hope, to introduce Jahman Oladejo Anikulapo, Editor of The Guardian on Sunday; the type of dreamer I recommend for Nigeria. The dreamer who possesses unassailable rectitude and stature. Question is: how did he acquire these?

To twist a famous line from Twelfth Night for our own purposes, some were born dreamers, some acquire (or appropriate) dreams, others have great dreams bestowed on them. Jahman falls somewhere between the last two columns:

“We started in Lagos Island. My dad decided that we were getting too much into the Island culture. You know what I mean by that. So he moved us to Agege. But I think it was a mistake on his part because Agege turned out to be worse. So I left home early, at about 14 years old because I was playing football and then into theatre arts. Of significance, for me, about my upbringing, is that many of the people I grew up with in that environment have turned out to be ‘Area Boys.’ I would have been one of them if I had not encountered the man who rescued me.

My buddies never got education and became layabouts. It is recurring in our system so I am working, fighting and struggling so that no young person will ever get into that kind of trap. I’ll rather do something to bring them out which probably defines my deep involvement with the arts.

That is why my work in journalism embraces developmental programmes that would bring young people out of that kind of situation. This is because anytime I see what we call ‘area boys’ I look at myself and say I could have been one of them.

Jahman attended St. Peter’s Primary School and later Niger City College in Agege (a school run by the Anglican Communion). He later moved to Muslim School, Saka Tinubu – an arm of Ahmadiyya College. He completed his Higher School Certificate at Ahmadiyya College, before proceeding to the University of Ibadan where he studied theatre arts, specializing in directing, dramatic theories and criticisms, graduating in 1986.

Give credit to Ben Tomoloju, a veteran journalist, artiste and film maker, who was at Ahmadiyya College for his national youth service and took Jahman under his wings, becoming his life-long mentor:

“In school then, I was one of the people who disturbed the dramatic society. He called me one day while I was playing pranks and said you come in and play that role. I did and he said there is some kind of talent there. So against my will, he pushed me into joining the dramatic society and from there to the literary and debating society. There, his own dramatic society was such that one had to write a review everyday as a member. Then we found the ‘Kakaki’ in 1978/1980. So we kept on writing. When I got to the university, I studied theatre and directing, but I made sure I specialized in dramatic theory and literary criticisms. So I had to be writing constantly under Professor (Dapo) Adelugba. We were made to write reviews everyday, so there was virtually no day I never held a pen. That was why I went into journalism. If not, I could probably have been at Obalende now, harassing people and snatching vehicles.”

So he came to The Guardian fully formed – a literary artiste determined to save and shock the society with arts’ eternal truths. A caring society was his vision; journalism his weapon.
Advancement and promotion in the newsroom came easily to news reporters and copy editors. Editorship cadre seemed to be their exclusive preserve. Arts and entertainment reporters were derided; often scorned and bypassed; that was the case, even in The Guardian in 1987 when Jahman and I signed up.

But if there was a dark cloud over his trade or fate, Jahman was completely oblivious of it. He pursued with uncommon vigour his sources and became a respected voice of truth. He harangued government, arts administrators, writers, musicians, painters, and sculptures like an Old Testament prophet.
And in all his dealings, his moral rectitude was in clear view. “Why have you stopped asking questions?” was the title of a paper he presented at a workshop organised by NICO querying Nigeria’s lacklustre journalism. “Why are we no longer raising fundamental questions on the Nigerian nation, its people and habits, the manner journalism is practised, the attitude of people and publishers toward journalism and the journalist in addition to the perception of the journalist towards the job?”

At another event, he addressed Nigerian journalism’s worst nightmare:
“I don’t mind stepping on toes especially if it will get all of us on the right track. I think I have said it somewhere before that brown envelope is not peculiar to journalism, but that does not mean that it is accepted. I am just saying that the society is in a state of flux, and there are so many impurities that have come into the system, and everybody seems to be going into that room where we have impurities and just take his own share.

So when you talk about bribery, you are still dealing with a case of bribery in our parliament, you know. So it is a continuous thing. But for journalists, it is very dangerous because they are people who influence and shape public opinions, and who make certain decisions for the public. The public rely on them. The brown envelope syndrome became more pronounced, I’d say, from about 1985 after the Structural Adjustment Policy. Actually, most of our problems are usually dated back to that policy. That was when some people came into the media profession and started media houses without a plan of even how to pay the salaries of their workers five years ahead.

There were those who thought he was headed nowhere with an arts beat, (an artiste’s temperament to boot!) and sharing a surname with Fela, the scourge of the Nigerian establishment. But he knew all along that he was right. He was on a mission. And he persisted. And clawed his way to journalism’s pinnacle. He became the epitome of good journalism, even if he sometimes eloped during elections to evade politicians’ bagmen.

Yet, Jahman was not a journalist in the real sense of the word. I am almost certain that he prefers the tag of culture activist to journalist – he became famous worldwide as a culture activist. He has served in various UNESCO committees, particularly the series held under the aegis of the World Decade for Culture and Development (1988-1997). He served in the Culture Sub-Committee of the Tony Blair Commission for Africa.

In 1999, he was invited by the National Commission for Museums and Monuments to revive the Museum Society Group – a body set up to ensure greater participation of the community in the affairs of the Museum. For this mission, he led the Prime Culture Advocacy group in Nigeria, the Committee for Relevant Arts (CORA), (winner of the Prince Claus Award, 2006), to launch the yearly Lagos Book and Art Festival (LABAF), on the premises of the National Museum Lagos.

Right from the beginning, Jahman understood the redemptive powers of the arts, its ability to humanize the society, to save souls and to clarify the purpose of our very existence. So, besides the regular fare of bad news that Sunday papers publish, Jahman’s The Guardian on Sunday offered that extra. Arts, music, Agriculture, Business, Religion and Children’s pages. He understood that journalism is not just the account of what the president said or where he visited. He published embarrassing pictures of bad roads, unfinished projects and grilled politicians over abandoned projects. And he never shied away from controversy.

Jahman at 50 is greater than the sum of his roles. He is a philanthropist, a humanist, and the ultimate peace-maker. And he says he owes that to his upbringing: “It’s my upbringing that you must give respect to that next person because you have no choice, because if you don’t respect him, you cannot respect yourself. That is it. It’s just willingness to show maximum respect for the other person’s interest. I believe that you cannot respect and serve God if you cannot respect and serve man.” And, on that again, he’s damned right.

 

– Culled From EverythingJournalism group on http://www.linkedin.com

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Ifeanyi Mbanefo is the manager Public Affairs and Corporate Communication at Nigeria LNG Limited.

 

Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija.