SETTING A VIRGIN JUNGLE ABLAZE!
None other than the retired military and political leader who served as Nigeria’s head of state twice, set an entire virgin jungle ablaze!
The 1st time he came as a military leader from 1976–1979, and later as its civilian president from 1999–2007. He is Retired Major General Olusegun Okikiola Ogunboye Aremu Obasanjo, GCFR, born in Abeokuta, Ogun State in western Nigeria in March 5, 1937. One would have thought that through his military background and his exposure in a prominent position for so many decades as an elderly statesman, he will set an example for his country. Unfortunately, that is the bane of rags to riches with power. Neither did he set an example for his people nor his children, the owners of OANDO Oil Company in Nigeria.
In 2002, my Company in Ghana was in the manufacture of plywood flush and solid wood doors for the Regional West African market (ECOWAS). Our products, registered under the ETLS (Ecowas Trade Liberalization Scheme), benefitted from duty exemptions within West Africa. Perceptible to regional market demand, I was creating the designs, and through a technical agreement with US Aid, we were churning out doors to higher standards than those from other sources in the subregion. However, we were unable to cope with the demand for a lack of constant supply of lumber. At that moment, most millers were exporting their lumber as CKD furniture components.
I was invited by a German Company based in Nigeria, who was importing our doors. They spearheaded a Joint Venture agreement, whereby we jointly revive their massive and idle sawmill in Ikong, northern Cross River State, manufacture doors and export the surplus lumber to our company in Ghana to service the neighboring countries. The concept involved a totally integrated project which exploits the primary, secondary, and tertiary timber products for export. The high volume of waste will be used as fuel for the kiln driers. They would offer the infrastructure and the contacts to obtain forest concessions, while we would secure the designs of the products, the technology, and the commercialization.
Cross River State was the first seat of the British colonial administration in Nigeria, back in the 19th century. Its capital Calabar is situated on a hill near the Calabar River and the Cross River Delta, not far from the Ogoni region and Port Harcourt, the capital of now Rivers State. One could easily compare Cross River to Ghana. The people are educated, calm, and courteous, and the capital is orderly, green, and clean. A pleasure to live and work there. Most importantly, the state is located on the border with Cameroon, where enormous virgin forests exist on both sides of the border, though, with no accessible road. At the time, the only way to cross was through the maritime area.
My trip to Cross River was well-organized, in typical German fashion, and without pomp or ceremony. I was programmed to visit a potential forest reserve the morning after my arrival, by an official of the Forestry Department of the local Ministry of Agriculture.
We arrived at a commune, closest on the footpath to the potential reserve. There, we disembarked to meet the Forest Ranger who was to escort me into the forest. So, we boarded two local motorbikes ‘taxis’, called “okadas”. As we crossed the rough footpath we were now maneuvering through shrubs into the dense forest. The temperature dropped as we felt cooler and it was getting darker with the overhead canopy getting thicker, blocking out the sunlight. It was a beautiful experience. We could hear all sorts of wild cries across the jungle canopy, monkeys screaming in the background, and various sounds of wild birds. Then suddenly there was a deafening silence as we perceived great black smoke rising above us everywhere. Suddenly, in the middle of nowhere, we landed in an immense expanse of charred terrain. The smoke coming out of the tree stumps looked surrealistic, like a Hollywood eerie horror movie. The Okada drivers froze in their tracks, we were all so shocked by this scene from Hell.
My heart sank to my feet when I saw the only survivors, miserable-looking forest dwellers carrying their belongings on their backs as if fleeing from a recently nuclear-bombed and ravaged battlefield. In fact, they were leaving their makeshift homes, leveled to the ground, where they lived for several generations. They could hardly speak from anguish, informing us that the whole area was set ablaze some days earlier by the “owner” of the land, forcing them out to clear it for an oil palm plantation with some foreigners arriving from abroad. Just as simple as that.
It was a shocking sight to see. Only red-hot embers glowing through black coal everywhere. The smell of the smoke and the surrounding heat dominated the scene. Their voices echoed in the air. Not life in sight, nor the sound of an animal, only the mourning earth crackling around us and reduced to our feet. They were the last dwellers of the forest, with nowhere to go to, nor work to find. Abandoned orphans moving out into a cold “civilized” world. Their disheveled wives and sad children were a tearful sight to see. Usually, they keep a dog for a pet, but I dared not ask the question, without a bird in sight, nor a single familiar ant crawling on the forest floor. Nothing in this wasteland. Not a life in sight, except for half-humans with broken hearts and minds.
The forest ranger walking back towards me was shaking his head as he looked down to the ground, embarrassed to lift his head up and meet this (me) white man’s eyes. He was mumbling something in the vernacular, which I hoped will be an insult to the notorious culprit. Although such a crime required no explanation with the outcome monstrously glaring back at us, I had to remind him to explain the situation to me. He lamented about their politicians and their abuses of power and their systematic destruction of the country. I had to console him that “white” politicians were worse because they had more ruse and covered their tracks more cosmetically. God forgive me, at that moment, I prayed that the culprit will never see the light of day, as I contemplated the fate of the natives, the animals, and the entire ecosystem.
Adding insult to injury, bulldozers were programmed to commence operations anytime to clear the grounds and level it, as they extended the areas to create more forest (bush) fires and clear more ground.
There was no point staying any longer. The sadness sank deeper since we were unable to help, and our mission was foiled. There was no adequate vocabulary to describe the devastation we witnessed.
We returned back to the commune and from there, to my hotel. I took the first available flight back to Lagos, and to waste no further time, I hired a taxi and traveled overland back to Ghana. Fortunately, it was a long trip to help me uproot the impact from my mind. I was heartbroken. No, I was devastated…just charred…in embers!
Sammy RNAJ — sammy.rnaj.writer@gmail.com
