I could not help but take notice of M T Usman’s letter to the Editor in the Daily Trust of May 23th 2017 bemoaning the absence of the familiar sight of donkeys from the streets of his hometown which I suspect would be in those semi-arid areas of the North-west. He wrote: ‘Driving through the countryside near my hometown I couldn’t but notice the copiousness of Chinese-made Jincheng motorcycle in contrast to the near absence of donkeys those beasts of burden since antiquity’. He further lamented that: ‘cursory estimate shows a ratio of 40:50 Jincheng sighting to a single donkey. At this replacement rate, coupled with the new fondness for its meat among some Nigerians, donkeys are headed for extinction in this country…‘.

I entirely agree with him. Many of those who grew up in the far-north in the 1960s like me, and earlier, must be familiar with the sight of numerous donkeys mostly as working animals not only on the farms in villages but also in the cities. I grew up in Maiduguri in that period and can recall plenty of donkeys in the streets particularly on Mondays when the city market had its day. All the roads leading to the Monday market were always clogged with heavily-laden donkeys from all directions. Probably more than half were coming from surrounding villages solely for market activities. This scenario was the same in most parts of the far-north, whether it was Kano, Sokoto or Katsina. The donkey was the most ubiquitous animal in the country-side and the cities.

But all these slowly changed in 1970s with the advent of more motor-cycles and motor-vehicles into the country as we became more prosperous with the newly found oil wealth. The consequences were that donkeys became increasingly redundant as beasts of burden and started disappearing from the scene. At the same time, unfortunately, a market sprang up for them in other parts of the country where their meat was found to be highly valued as a delicacy.

 In Borno, where we probably had the largest number of donkeys in the country it became noticeable that their numbers were decreasing at an alarming rate. In the 1980s the reduced number of donkeys was so glaring that the state government was forced to take notice. It suddenly became apparent that a lucrative trade had developed around sales of donkeys. Just like cattle, sheep and camels, animals abundant in Borno and regularly transported to markets in other parts of the country, donkeys also sadly found themselves in the same category. It became normal to see a drove of donkeys being transported openly in trucks to other parts of the country. And it was obvious that they were being driven to these markets to be sold not as beasts of burden, but to end up in pots for culinary purposes.

The Borno State Government felt so concerned for the fast disappearing donkeys that it took a memo to the 12 Northern Governors meeting in 1990   requesting for a collective action to be taken for their survival. I was part of the secretariat in that meeting where the Borno State Military Governor presided. I recall the hilarious exchanges that followed the presentation of this memo with some of the Governors referring to their colleagues as ‘donkey governors’. I remember one particular Military Governor remarking: ‘Its donkey today. What if next time someone comes up with a memo on dogs? We are a multi-cultural society and citizens have rights to eat what they please. This has serious implications for national unity’.

Somehow the Governors were able to paper over their differences when the civilian aides left them to discuss among themselves. Eventually they approved the prayers in the memo. What has now transpired over time is that the actions the Northern Governors took at the time did not go far enough as the fate of donkeys is now in dire straits. In fact M T Usman in his letter suggested: ‘Our scientists should hurry to preserve this animal’s DNA for cloning in the future, so future generations could make its acquaintance’. Pending other measures the incumbent Northern Governors may be willing to take to protect these endangered animals, M T Usman’ suggestion is a good starting point. 

In Remembrance of a great man

It was during the holy month of Ramadan in 1966 that Sir Ahmadu Bello, the Premier of Northern Nigeria was brutally murdered. I was still a primary school kid when he was Premier and did not have the opportunity of ever meeting him. But I have read a lot about him and will bring to this page anecdotes associated with the great man throughout Ramadan to replenish our fond memories of him. 

I met Yahaya Kwande in 1999 when I was posted as one of the civil servants in the political office of the Vice-President. He was then a grandee of the PDP and you couldn’t miss his presence in any gathering. I thought he was a politician all his life till when I read his well-written autobiography, ‘The Making of a Northern Nigerian’. It was then I realized he was a civil servant, in fact, one of the pioneers of Northern Nigerian Civil Service. He had a varied and exciting civil service career as an Administrative Officer that took him around many big emirates of the North.

Though of Plateau State origin, he served in Kano during Emir Muhammadu Sanusi’s time, and also most parts of Borno. He later spent many years in the Premier’s working directly with the great man himself. When states were created in 1968 he was deployed to Benue-Plateau State, where he rose to be a Permanent Secretary before retiring into business and politics. The excerpt I have taken from the book is part of the direct experience he had with the Premier.

‘What I remember most is the Sardauna’s silent policy of instructing us, with patient tolerance and understanding. One incident is still very clear in my memory. While I was a trainee administrative officer in the Premier’s Office, a group of men came to see the Sardauna. Being the only junior officer available right then, I dutifully rushed in to announce the visitors to him.

‘Who do you say they are?’ He asked me. ‘Ah! I’m sorry, sir. Let me go and find out.’ I rushed back to the men, got the name of their spokesman and hurried in again to give it to the Premier. ‘Are they on appointment?’ My mouth fell open. I rushed out again to find out. Their reply was that they were not on appointment, and back I returned to report this extra piece of information. ‘Mm. They are not on appointment,’ the Premier echoed me. ‘No sir!’ I repeated. ‘So, what do they say their mission is?’ My consternation knew no equal as I went to the visitors this fourth time to get the information that I would have got all at a go the very first time. Through it all, the Sardauna’s face did not register the least annoyance; he did not explode in anger and start calling me names like the average boss would have done. However, he was no doubt aware that his unspoken lesson hit home with me. After that day, I never hurried to perform any action or announce any visitor without first taking down his name, and ascertaining whether he was on appointment and what his mission was.’