2013 was a year of this and that. But one event during the year affected me more than any – the passing on of my friend, Mustapha Amego. It left me numb, dump and empty. I thought that I had come to an understanding of the concept of death and its inevitability but I could not reconcile myself with the death of Mustapha Amego.
I have written tributes and made comments about many colleagues that have passed on but I simply did not have the ability to say a word or write a word about one of the best Nigerians I have ever known. It is not as if I did not know that Mustapha was wrestling with his life. I knew. When the end came however, I was totally unprepared. Indeed, we had several telephone conversations about the situation. I once tried everything I could to see him in Jamaica, New York but it was one of those occasions where events conspire to make your best efforts inadequate.
I liked Mustapha Amego, producer and presenter of the favourite TV programme, Roll Tape, talented bass guitar player, 2nd Vice President of PMAN and exquisite dresser – the original Funky Malam. With a free spirit, Mustapha was a Nigerian to whom tribe meant very little and social status did not count. My wife's kitchen was Mustapha's kitchen and he did not need anyone's permission to invade the soup pot and take care of the hungry worms in his system. His home on Bush Street in Maryland was to a large extent, our watering hole. It was there that we argued endlessly over issues of the day and now and again, shared some suya and a bottle of coke. 'Musty' loved Nigeria and wanted the best for our country.
Mustapha was a student of leadership. I recall Bill Clinton's first run for the presidency of the United States which we followed, frame by frame, as the process unfolded. On election night, we installed two TV sets in my living room, one tuned to CNN and another to SKY News. We were determined not to miss any tiny aspect of the developing story. We stayed awake all through the night as voting closed from the east coast to the west coast of the United States. We counted electoral votes in between bowls of pepper soup until Bill Clinton was declared winner over George Bush Snr and with bleary eyes, we celebrated!
When I lost my father, Mustapha was by my side in Atta, Imo State. In every sense, he was my brother. Anyone that threw a pebble at me had to be ready for a rock hauled at him by Mustapha Amego.
My first real crisis with Mustapha came in 1993 when I decided that it was time to say bye-bye to the PMAN presidency. For different reasons, too many people who knew not what to do with the office wanted the position and if I stayed on, their agitation would become a distraction. When Mustapha came to tell me that he wanted to be President of PMAN, I told him, point blank, that I could not support him and I gave him three reasons: I told him that the responsibility was so huge that it would drain his life away and as his brother I could not wish that upon him. Secondly, I told him that he was so close to me that he would acquire all those who had issues with me as enemies as he would be seen as my stooge. Thirdly as I informed him, my then 1st Vice President, Epi Fanio Adebambo Joseph had told me of his intention to vie for the office and I had prayed with him over it and I told Mustapha that I could not betray Epi.
Musty's desire to be president was overwhelming that it began to put a strain on our relationship. Eventually, we found a way out. I told him that the only way he could get any support from me was if he would convince Epi Fanio to drop out and support him and Epi Fanio would personally tell me so and he would refund Epi whatever expense he had incurred. I do not know how Mustapha did it but a few days later Epi Fanio, a gentleman in every sense, came to tell me that he had dropped out of the race for Mustapha. I then reminded Mustapha that I do not rig elections but I that I had what I considered significant goodwill within the union and that I would speak to as many of the delegates as I could on his behalf.
Two days to the elections which were scheduled for Benin-City, I went to see Mustapha at Bush Street, Maryland and asked about his readiness for the elections. I was surprised to find that nothing was on ground. His manifesto was not ready and little or no effort had been made to reach the delegates. I could see failure written all over and I was in a bind. From the time Mustapha announced his candidature, he was seen as representing the 'Okoroji camp'. His failure would have been seen as the failure of the 'Okoroji camp'. I did not want a camp. I thought I had done enough and just wanted to go away quietly so that those who had pebbles to throw could aim them at someone else.
On the eve of the elections, Mustapha and I arrived Benin-City late at night. The situation was even worse than I had thought. Vying for the post of President of PMAN were the likes of Skid Ikemefuna and Pedro Okojie, both my friends but the guy who was properly armed for the war in Benin City was fuji music maestro, Wasiu Ayinde Marshal. Wasiu had touched down in Benin earlier than every other contestant, with a war chest and some sharp campaigners like Adewale Ayuba. If the elections had been held at 11.00 pm on that Wednesday night, Wasiu Ayinde Marshall would have been the next President of PMAN in a landslide.
Once we got our hotel rooms, I began a delegate to delegate campaign that lasted all night with Mustapha Amego that took us in the middle of the night to all kinds of dingy hotels in parts of Benin City I did not know. At election time, I was still not sure if we had pulled it off but when the votes were announced by the returning officer, Ogbonnaya Amadi of Vanguard Newspapers, Mustapha Amego had been elected President of PMAN with a margin of three votes. That evening, Mustapha and I went to make peace with KWAM 1 who handled the situation with admirable maturity and earned my respect till today.
See you next week.
