MY LIFE ATIKU ABUBAKAR

MY LIFE ATIKU ABUBAKAR

Photo: Udim E.E. MY LIFE ATIKU ABUBAKAR

i Copyright Copyright 2013 by Atiku Abubakar All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. Published in Nigeria by Africana Legacy Press Abuja

ii Dedication To my parents With gratitude for their boundless love and fervent prayers

iii Author s note The story of MY LIFE is told in greater detail in the biography titled Atiku: The Story of Atiku Abubakar by Adinoyi Ojo Onukaba (Africana Legacy Press, Abuja, 2006). MY LIFE is based largely on a series of interviews I granted the biographer. The interviews covered the major events and milestones in my life and they have been distilled here and woven into a personal narrative of struggles and triumph with a hint about the vast unconquered territory that still lies ahead. I want readers to take note of two points. One, my modest achievements in life have not come to me on a platter of gold. I have had to struggle against uncommon odds to get to where I am today. Success in life requires hard work and sacrifice. Two, personal achievements in life are meaningless in a country where the vast majority of our people still struggle daily to meet their basic needs. There is, therefore, an urgent need to create a Nigeria of shared exertion and prosperity, a Nigeria where the majority of our people are fulfilled, happy and hopeful about the future. I hope our young people will find the story of My Life inspiring. It is not the circumstances of our birth that truly count, it is what we make of life itself. As for me, I will continue to devote the rest of my life to making Nigeria a strong, united, democratic and prosperous country. Atiku Abubakar Abuja July 2013

Jada... 8 Going To School... 10 Father s death... 12 Yola... 13 Kaduna, Kano & Zaria... 16 Serving in the Customs... 19 Making money... 24 Turaki Adamawa... 27 Mother s death... 30 A matter of principle... 31 Fighting drug trafficking... 32 A passion for learning... 32 Political Life... 34 Meeting Yar Adua... 34 Going into politics... 36 To be governor... 37 To be President... 38 Political crisis... 41 Going into exile... 42 Yar Adua s death... 43 Death of Abacha & Abiola... 43 From Governor to Vice Presidency... 43

Reinventing Nigeria... 47

Chapter 1 Jada My name is Atiku Abubakar. I was born on November 25, 1946 in Jada, Adamawa State, Nigeria. I was named after my paternal grandfather, Atiku Abdulkadir. It was the practice among the Fulani people to name their first sons after their paternal grandfathers. My grandfather, Atiku, came originally from Wurno in Sokoto State. There, he had met and befriended Ardo Usman, a Fulani nobleman from what is now known as Adamawa State. My grandfather decided to accompany his new friend back to his hometown of Adamawa. They settled in Kojoli, a small village in Jada Local Government Council of Adamawa State. My grandfather farmed, kept livestock and raised a family. He married a local girl in Kojoli and gave birth to my father, Garba Atiku Abdulkadir. He was their only child. My father was an itinerant trader who traveled from one market to another selling imitation jewelry, caps, needles, potash, kola nuts and other nick-knacks which he ferried around on the back of his donkey. He also kept some livestock and cultivated guinea corn, maize and groundnuts. When it was time for him to marry, my father chose a young girl from nearby Jada town whose parents had migrated from Dutse, now the capital of Jigawa State. My mother, Aisha Kande, was born in Jada. Her father was also an itinerant trader who was known in Jada as Adamu Dutse, using his town as his last name - a common practice in Northern Nigeria. My father was not rich, but he was able to build his own house and took care of his immediate family. He was well-known in Kojoli and surrounding villages and towns as a tall, wellbuilt man who was generous to a fault. People remembered him as someone who could part with his last possession. Both my father and paternal grandfather were learned men. They gave free Islamic classes to adults and young people in Kojoli during their spare time. As a young boy growing up in Kojoli, my parents doted on me. They tried their best to provide for me and to ensure that I grew up in a wholesome environment of love and spirituality. My father saw me as a rare gift, a child of destiny. He always prayed to Allah to protect me, guide me and to make me successful in life. I honestly believe that I owe my modest achievements in life to him. There is power in prayer, no doubt about it. My parents tried unsuccessfully to have more children. My father even took another wife but she too did not have a child. I was said to have been a quiet, sensitive boy while growing up. I assisted my father on the farm and with the livestock. When I was old enough, I would take the cows and sheep to the

fields to graze and bring them back home at sunset. I also fetched firewood for cooking and for night-time illumination. Kojoli, like most Nigerian villages then, had no electricity or running water. Sometimes, it was my duty to feed the animals with hay or to give them water to drink or potash to lick. I enjoyed these chores and considered them real fun. I learned to ride horses and donkeys which my father used to transport goods to the various markets. I spent my free time playing soccer on improvised fields with neighbourhood boys. Sometimes we made bows and arrows and went hunting for birds. My parents were devout Muslims. Every night after dinner, we had Koranic studies around a bonfire. My father or any other learned person in the village would teach us. My parents just like other parents in Kojoli tried to build a strong spiritual foundation for their young ones through these nightly Koranic lessons. People say that I look like my father, but that he was even more generous than me. I took my mother s dark complexion. I am also quiet and reserved like her. Aunt Azumi, Atiku, Titi and Kande in the early 1970s

Chapter 2 Going To School A photo taken in the 1960s

My father, Garba Atiku Abdulkadir, was fond of me. He wanted me to become an Islamic scholar, herdsman, farmer and trader _ just like him. He was a deeply religious man who was suspicious of Western education which he believed could corrupt the impressionable minds of young people. My father did not want me to go to school. He tried to hide me from the prying eyes of Native Authority officials who had embarked on compulsory mass literacy campaign in the region. My father soon discovered that he could not resist the wind of change that was blowing through the area at the time. My mother s older brother, Kawu Ali who had received a little education through adult literacy classes, registered me at Jada Primary School in January 1954 as Atiku Kojoli. For trying to stop me from going to school, my father was arrested, charged to an Alkali court and fined 10 Shillings. He refused to pay the fine. He said he had no money. He spent a few days in jail until my maternal grandmother, who made local soap for sale in the community, raised the money to pay the fine and father was released to her. But my father was not a happy man. He was sad and angry that his only child had been taken away from him to be exposed to a strange world. He saw Western education as a threat to their cherished values and way of life. Father was responding typically with fear and anxiety to the onslaught of change in Nigeria. People often feel safe in the world they know. They see change as a harbinger of evil and as being disruptive to the normal order of things. Jada Primary School was bare and rudimentary. The school consisted of small round huts with thatched roofs. Classes were sometimes taught under the tree. Some school buildings had no doors or windows. There were class rooms without chairs or desks. We spent the first two years writing on the floor. No wooden slates or exercise books. It was only in Primary Three that exercise books were given to us. The school was made up of junior and senior primary schools. Pupils spent five years in junior primary school and two years in senior primary school. Junior primary school closed every day at noon, giving the pupils time to assist their parents in taking the animals out for grazing or to join in weeding, planting or harvesting in the farms. A boarding facility was provided at the senior level. We slept on wooden beds covered with locally made straw or palm fibre mats. Meals included rice, guinea corn, beans cake (kose in Hausa), yam and a custard-like drink known as kunu which is made from guinea corn flour. The food was prepared by cooks employed by the school and served to the pupils in small bowls in the dining hall. It was an all-male school built and run by the Native Authority. No tuition was charged. Uniforms and other school materials were provided free. The teachers too were men and they came from the community.

We began each day with early morning chores, such as cutting the grass, sweeping the school compound and watering the garden. Through these chores, the values of hard work and of the dignity in labour were being inculcated in us. After about half an hour of work, the bell would ring for the commencement of the morning exercises to prepare us physically and mentally for the day s tasks. We would then go for breakfast. Breakfast was followed by fall-in, the assembly of all pupils. The teachers would inspect us, looking out for sloppy appearance and listening to complaints about those who did not do their chores or participate in the physical exercises. The offending pupil would be brought out, tried and punished. Canes were liberally used to correct such offenders. Lessons resumed soon after in arithmetic, English language, literature, geography, science, religious studies and handicraft. The rest of the day was taken up by lunch, siesta, dinner, private studies (using kerosene lanterns for illumination) and bed-time. I started learning to read and speak Hausa in that school. It was taught at the school to the predominantly Fulfulde-speaking pupils. Like other pupils in the school, I grew up speaking only Fulfulde. I realized later that Hausa is the lingua franca in most parts of Northern Nigeria. It was both the language of commerce, administration and every day interactions in many parts of the region. FATHER S DEATH Three years after I started school, tragedy struck in December 1957. I was then 11 years old. I was just about to begin the Senior Primary School in Jada as a boarding pupil. My father drowned while trying to cross a small river known as Mayo Choncha on the outskirts of Toungo, a neighbouring town. The river was in high tide following a heavy rainfall. Father s body was recovered the following day and buried in Toungo according to Islamic rites. He was less than 40 years old when he died. I built an Islamic primary school at his burial site years later to immortalize him. He was a simple, hard working, kind, honest and God-fearing man. I miss him a lot. After my father s death, the task of raising me fell on my mother, Kande, and her childless sister, Azumi, as well as my father s extended family members in Kojoli. Although people were generally kind and caring towards me, it was difficult for relatives to fill the vacuum left by my father. As such, I was often sad and lonely. Father s death pained me greatly. I resolved to work hard, remain focused and be successful in life to make my father proud. I was sure that he was somewhere watching over me. I did not want to disappoint him. I wish father had lived long enough to see the benefits of Western education in my life.

Chapter 3 Yola After completing my primary school in Jada in 1960, I was admitted into Adamawa Provincial Secondary School in Yola. I joined 59 other young boys from Adamawa and beyond in January 1961 to begin a five-year high school journey. The school s motto is Tiddo Yo Daddo, a Fulani aphorism for Endurance is Success. It reminded us daily that success in life would only come to those who worked hard and persevered. Adamawa Provincial Secondary School, like others in the region, belonged in the second category of post-primary institutions in Northern Nigeria. The most prestigious schools were the Government Colleges in Zaria and Keffi. Pupils who excelled in the entrance examination went to the Government Colleges; those who did reasonably well went to the Provincial Secondary Schools; average students were sent to the Craft Schools in the various Divisions; and those who failed the examination were sent to Farm Centres which were established in all the Districts. It was a good system which took care of everyone irrespective of his or her level of intelligence. The Native Authorities ran the schools as a social service. Students received free uniforms (white shorts and shirts for classes, khaki overall for manual work and white caftans over white trousers for visits to the town on Fridays and Sundays), free books, free boarding facilities, a weekly allowance of three to six pence, and transport fares for those traveling outside Yola and Jimeta at the end of every term. Some district councils would charter a commercial lorry to pick up their holiday-bound students from the school. The school authorities, mostly British, were firm and strict, commending good conduct and academic excellence and sanctioning bad behaviour, sloppiness and poor academic performance. Refusal to do one s homework, rudeness to a teacher or senior student, dirty uniforms and sloppiness attracted light punishment (caning or manual work) while serious offences such as stealing, drinking, smoking, insulting or fighting a teacher could lead to dismissal or detention. Detention meant that such a student would not be allowed to visit the town on Fridays and Sundays with other students. Since we all looked forward to going into town, everyone tried to avoid committing offences that could lead to detention. I belonged to Wazirawa House. I was not quite six months in the school when the school principal, Mr. David West, warned me that I would be expelled from the school if I did not stop fighting with people. I was quiet, but I would never run away from trouble. As a keen hockey player, I was always with my hockey sticks and did not hesitate to use them against any student who tried to bully me. In addition to hockey, I played soccer and did well in athletics too. One important tradition at Adamawa Provincial Secondary School in the 1960s was the Friday visit to the Lamido of Adamawa. On the first and last Friday of every term, all the students would march in their white kaftan-on-white trousers from the school campus in Jimeta

to the Lamido s palace in Yola, a distance of about five kilometres, to pay homage to the traditional ruler and spiritual head of Adamawa Emirate. Lamido Aliyu Musdafa, a former student of the school who had been installed in 1953 as the 11th ruler of the emirate founded by Modibbo Adama in the 19th century for whom Adamawa Emirate and Adamawa State are named - had in 1841 selected Yola, located on a swampy plain near the Benue River, as his headquarters. As soon as we were ushered into his presence, Lamido Musdafa would receive us, pray for us and counsel us to embrace the good old values of hard work, honesty and the fear of Allah. I had friends from everywhere as a student. Some of my friends were non Fulani and non Muslims. As I grew older and more independent towards the end of my stay at Adamawa Provincial Secondary School, I used to spend part of my school holidays with my friends in different parts of the Adamawa Emirate. I wanted to be exposed to other cultures and experiences. Adamawa Provincial Secondary School, Yola (Sitting l-r): Hamman Bello Toungo, Ahmadu Tijani, Bala Adamu, Hamman Bello Alkali, Abdullahi Zira, Mahmoud Tukur, Ahmadu Belel, Tukur Pate, Istifanus Manga, Mohammadu Mubi, Atiku Abubakar, Alkali Abba, Baba Ahmed Kumo with the child of a school staff I have always worked for peace and harmony among the Fulani and the dozens of other groups in our area. When fellow students wanted to set up Jada Students Association only for the Fulani students and the Chamba Students Association for non-fulani students, I addressed members of the two associations to form a central body devoid of ethnic labels. They booed and

shouted me down. I was not deterred. I refused to join either of them. They later accepted my proposal and set up Ganye Students Association for all the students from the area. When I was 15, I spent my school holiday at home, working as a clerk in Ganye Native Authority. My boss was Adamu Ciroma, the then District Officer. From my holiday job earnings, I bought a house for my mother in Ganye, the headquarters of the local government council. The thatched mud bungalow had two rooms plus a kitchen and bathroom. It cost me about nine Pounds Sterling. My mother was very happy and proud of me. I had saved her from homelessness after her older brother sold the family house in Jada without her knowledge.

Chapter 4 Kaduna, Kano & Zaria Atiku (standing first left) with Adamawa students at the Institute of Administration, ABU Zaria. After completing my primary school in Jada in 1960, I was admitted into Adamawa Provincial Secondary School in Yola. I joined 59 other young boys from Adamawa and beyond in January 1961 to begin a five-year high school journey. The school s motto is Tiddo Yo Daddo, a Fulani aphorism for Endurance is Success. It reminded us daily that success in life would only come to those who worked hard and persevered. Adamawa Provincial Secondary School, like others in the region, belonged in the second category of post-primary institutions in Northern Nigeria. The most prestigious schools were the Government Colleges in Zaria and Keffi. Pupils who excelled in the entrance examination went to the Government Colleges; those who did reasonably well went to the Provincial Secondary Schools; average students were sent to the Craft Schools in the various Divisions; and those who failed the examination were sent to Farm Centres which were established in all the Districts. It was a good system which took care of everyone irrespective of his or her level of intelligence. The Native Authorities ran the schools as a social service. Students received free uniforms (white shorts and shirts for classes, khaki overall for manual work and white caftans over white

trousers for visits to the town on Fridays and Sundays), free books, free boarding facilities, a weekly allowance of three to six pence, and transport fares for those traveling outside Yola and Jimeta at the end of every term. Some district councils would charter a commercial lorry to pick up their holiday-bound students from the school. The school authorities, mostly British, were firm and strict, commending good conduct and academic excellence and sanctioning bad behaviour, sloppiness and poor academic performance. Refusal to do one s homework, rudeness to a teacher or senior student, dirty uniforms and sloppiness attracted light punishment (caning or manual work) while serious offenses such as stealing, drinking, smoking, insulting or fighting a teacher could lead to dismissal or detention. Detention meant that such a student would not be allowed to visit the town on Fridays and Sundays with other students. Since we all looked forward to going into town, everyone tried to avoid committing offense that could lead to detention. I belonged to Wazirawa House. I was not quite six months in the school when the school principal, Mr. David West, warned me that I would be expelled from the school if I did not stop fighting with people. I was quiet, but I would never run away from trouble. As a keen hockey player, I was always with my hockey sticks and did not hesitate to use them against any student who tried to bully me. In addition to hockey, I played soccer and did well in athletics too. One important tradition at Adamawa Provincial Secondary School in the 1960s was the Friday visit to the Lamido of Adamawa. On the first and last Friday of every term, all the students would march in their white kaftan-on-white trousers from the school campus in Jimeta to the Lamido s palace in Yola, a distance of about five kilometres, to pay homage to the traditional ruler and spiritual head of Adamawa Emirate. Lamido Aliyu Musdafa, a former student of the school who had been installed in 1953 as the 11th ruler of the emirate founded by Modibbo Adama in the 19th century for whom Adamawa Emirate and Adamawa State are named - had in 1841 selected Yola, located on a swampy plain near the Benue River, as his headquarters. As soon as we were ushered into his presence, Lamido Musdafa would receive us, pray for us and counsel us to embrace the good old values of hard work, honesty and the fear of Allah. I had friends from everywhere as a student. Some of my friends were non Fulani and non Muslims. As I grew older and more independent towards the end of my stay at Adamawa Provincial Secondary School, I used to spend part of my school holidays with my friends in different parts of the Adamawa Emirate. I wanted to be exposed to other cultures and experiences. I have always worked for peace and harmony among the Fulani and the dozens of other groups in our area. When fellow students wanted to set up Jada Students Association only for the Fulani students and the Chamba Students Association for non-fulani students, I addressed members of the two associations to form a central body devoid of ethnic labels. They booed and shouted me down. I was not deterred. I refused to join either of them. They later accepted my proposal and set up Ganye Students Association for all the students from the area.

When I was 15, I spent my school holiday at home, working as a clerk in Ganye Native Authority. My boss was Adamu Ciroma, the then District Officer. From my holiday job earnings, I bought a house for my mother in Ganye, the headquarters of the local government council. The thatched mud bungalow had two rooms plus a kitchen and bathroom. It cost me about nine Pounds Sterling. My mother was very happy and proud of me. I had saved her from homelessness after her older brother sold the family house in Jada without her knowledge.

Chapter 5 Serving in the Customs My portrait as a young Customs Officer Before completing my Diploma in Law programme in June 1969, a team from the Federal Civil Service Commission came on a recruitment drive to the university. By chance one of the interviewers found in my file a report that I had once been found suitable to join the police force and had in fact received some training in 1966. This information was brought to the attention of the chairman of the interview panel who promptly ruled:

O.k., you go to the Department of Customs and Excise. That was how I joined the Department of Customs and Excise in June 1969. The invisible hand that has always shaped my life had once again steered me towards my destiny. After my training at the Police College in Ikeja, Lagos and at the Customs Training School in Ebute Metta in Lagos, I was posted to Idi Iroko border station. My colleagues and I were tasked with collecting duties on imported and exported goods, stopping the entry and exit of banned items, and arresting and prosecuting smugglers. Following the end of the Nigerian Civil War in January 1970, Idi Iroko became a beehive of activities. Those who had fled Nigeria to neighbouring countries began returning in hundreds. It was our task to receive them back. Titi as a school girl in 1971

Titi and I, getting married at Ikoyi Registry in December 1971 It was at Idi Iroko in late 1969 that I met and fell in love with the then 19-year-old Titilayo Albert. Though she is Yoruba and I am Fulani, it never crossed my mind that that could be a problem. Titi s mother was opposed to the relationship, constantly dredging up ethnic slurs and prejudices to convince Titi to back out. However, Titi s father did not oppose us. Despite the strong opposition from her mother and sisters, I persevered because I was sure we were meant for each other. We were married in December 1971 after receiving her father s blessing. We rented a place in Lagos and began planning for a family. Our first child, Fatima, was born on October 26, 1972. Titi and I would have three more children: Adamu, Halima and Aminu. I was posted in 1972 to Ikeja Airport in Lagos and later to Apapa ports in Lagos. In all the places I served, I never asked people for money. I never asked my subordinates to bring returns. I was aware that some officers connived with smugglers to make money. I never did. Corruption was rife in Customs, but I was not part of it. I saw Customs not as a punitive institution but as a way of making money for the government. Instead of seizing goods and extorting money from their owners, I made money for the government. A lot of people tried unsuccessfully to induce me. I was posted to Ibadan mid 1975 and promoted Superintendent of Customs. I was given a big official residence at Iyangaku Government Reserved Area. This was during the memorable days of General Murtala Muhammed, the nation s new military leader who had electrified the nation with his campaign for discipline, probity, hard work, patriotism and dedication to duty.

I admired General Muhammed and tried to promote the same values and attitudinal change in our office. I was nick-named Murtala Muhammed Junior by my Customs subordinates in Ibadan because they said I was behaving like him. Although I was second-in-command in Ibadan, I used to order late-comers to be locked out of their offices. I was sad to hear about General Muhammed s assassination on February 13, 1976 during a failed military coup. Some of those who were later implicated in the coup and killed were well known to me. But I did not know they were involved in a coup plot. Shortly after that failed coup, I was transferred to Kano in 1976. My immediate boss was Abubakar Musa, then Customs Area Administrator in Kano. We became friends. We shared many memorable moments together. In Kano, I met and married the former Sa adatu Ladi Yakubu, the dark and pretty daughter of a police inspector from Gombe. Ladi and I have six children together - Abba, Atiku, Zainab, Ummi, Mariam and Rukayatu I have always wanted a large family to compensate for my lonely childhood. I felt extremely lonely as a child. I had no brother and no sister. I did not want my children to be as lonely as I was. My wives are my sisters, my friends and my advisers. They complement one another and enrich my life. I was transferred to Maiduguri in 1977 as the Area Administrator. At 30, I was the youngest then to hold that position. I was promoted Assistant Comptroller and put in charge of the vast Northeast, which comprised of the states now known as Borno, Bauchi, Adamawa, Taraba, Yobe and Gombe. With Ladi, my second wife in Kano, 1976

Maiduguri had always been an important administrative capital and a trading centre since the ancient Kanem-Borno Empire which stretched as far as the present Chad, Niger, Cameroon, Sudan, and Central Africa Republic. The old trade network continued to serve subsequent generations regardless of artificial colonial boundaries. Among the items traded were hides and skins, cotton, groundnuts, raw and processed food, textiles, petroleum products, electronic goods, household appliances, and vehicles. The challenge for me then was how to formalize such commercial transactions for the benefit of all the countries involved, especially Nigeria. I introduced a Customs log-book where goods entering or leaving Nigeria were recorded and valued. Petroleum products constituted the bulk of the goods routinely smuggled out of Nigeria then. These products would be bought at heavily subsidized prices in Nigerian and then sold for a fortune in neighbouring countries. I believe that the Department of Customs and Excise exists to facilitate trade between countries and not to block it. In 1978, General Olusegun Obasanjo, who had succeeded General Murtala Muhammed as Head of State, visited the Customs Area Command in Maiduguri as part of his tour of the state. I briefed him about the Command s anti-smuggling operations. Obasanjo was very impressed. He decided there and then to allocate eight Land Cruisers to the Command to facilitate its operation. That was my first encounter with Obasanjo.

Chapter 6 Making money I recognized very early in life that I have a good nose for business. In 1974 I applied for and obtained a Federal Staff Housing Loan. The loan, which amounted to 31,000 Naira, was the equivalent of my salary for five years. I was granted a plot of land by the Gongola State Government at Yola Government Reserved Area (GRA). I hired a foreman and began building

my first house. With close personal supervision, the bungalow was completed on time and to my taste. I rented it out immediately. The rent I collected in advance on the house was substantial enough for me to purchase a second plot. I built my second house there and rented it out. I continued to plow back the rent into the building of new houses and within a few years I had built eight houses in choice areas of Yola. I also built a new house for my mother and rebuilt the old mud house I bought for her in Ganye when I was a 15-year-old student. Property investment can be very rewarding. It is safe and the returns are high depending on the location. Kaduna, for instance, was a good place to invest in property before the emergence of Abuja. I built my first house in Kaduna with rent from other property. I bought six more plots and built residential houses and rented them out to individuals and institutions. I was nominated in 1978 for a three-month senior officers course in Finland. Innocent Okoye and O. O. Bassey and I joined participants from other developing countries such as Saudi Arabia, Iran, Iraq, Sudan and Kenya. While in Finland, we visited neighboring Sweden and Norway. I was still in Maiduguri when the historic peaceful transfer of power from the military to an elected civilian administration took place on October 1, 1979. Military ruler Obasanjo handed over power to elected President Shehu Shagari. I returned to Kaduna in 1980 as an Assistant Area Administrator of a much bigger command. With a growing family and increasing responsibilities, I decided to set up a commercial farm. I started the Gesse Derdirabe Farm in 1981 on 2,500 hectres of land off Yola - Numan Road with a bank loan. I grew maize and cotton. The farm did very well initially. I became the largest maize farmer in the whole of Gongola State, producing over 10,000 bags of maize a year for sale within the country. But changes in government policies led to a sharp increase in the cost of production. A number of large farms closed down, including Gesse Derdirabe Farms in 1986. Of all the businesses into which I would venture, the most successful and the most lucrative would be a small oil services company I established with an Italian business man in the early 1980s. I met Gabriel Volpi when he was working at Apapa Ports in 1982. The Genoa, Italy-born Volpi was a director in MED Africa, a shipping company. Volpi suggested we go into oil and gas logistics. He knew Nigeria s future was in oil and gas. We registered the Nigeria Container Services (NICOTES), operating from a container office at Apapa Ports. I was not involved in the running of the company. NICOTES relocated later to the Federal Lighter Terminal in Port Harcourt when the business began to grow. The company, now known as INTELS (Integrated and Logistics Services), has grown into a multi-billion Naira business providing over 15,000 jobs in Nigeria and other African countries and paying hefty dividends to its shareholders.

Chapter 7 Turaki Adamawa While serving in Maiduguri, I was introduced to Lamido Aliyu Musdafa by one of his adopted sons, Jamilu Lamido. I started visiting Lamido Musdafa whenever I was in Yola. The Lamido began to like me and started treating me like a son. I admired the Lamido for his liberalism and pragmatism. He understood the complexity of the environment in which he operated. His ability to hold together such a diverse emirate was marvelous. I admired his willingness to accept change. As an orphan, I had always cherished a father figure in my life. The Lamido became the father I lost at age 11. On November 19, 1982, Lamido Aliyu Musdafa turbaned me as the Turaki of Adamawa at his palace in Yola. The Turaki in traditional Fulani society is a prince in charge of household matters. It is a title usually reserved for one of the Lamido/Emir s favourite sons. It is seldom given to an outsider or a commoner. To ensure that I met the blood tie requirement for the title, the Lamido decided to give me one of his daughters, Princess Rukaiyat, to marry. She is the 13th child of the Lamido. Although a son from that union will not be in the line of succession, he could be appointed a Waziri, the traditional prime minister.

Lamido Aliyu Musdafa in his 50th year as Lamido of Adamawa in 2003

Lamido Aliyu Musdafa with his grand children Asmau, Lamido, Laila, Mustapha, Aisha and Walida. The Turaki turbaning ceremony was held with pomp and pageantry. All roads led to Yola on that day. As many as 40 aircraft brought guests to Yola to witness the event. I did not realize that I had made so many friends across the country. For my mother, it was the highest point of our lives. She never expected or imagined that there could be such a dramatic change in our lives. She never imagined that her son would become a member of the royal family in Adamawa. Lamido Aliyu Musdafa was a very perceptive person. I think he saw in me the promise of the future. I was popular and had wide contacts and tremendous goodwill. This was why he gave me the title. After our marriage, Princess Rukaiyat stayed back in Yola where she raised our children - Aisha, Hadiza, Aliyu, Asmau, Mustafa, Laila and Abdulsalaam. She kept herds of cows, rams and poultry/fish/crocodiles on my old Gesse Derdirabe farm along Yola - Numan Road. I was becoming influential in the four major towns in our area: Jada, Ganye, Toungo and Mayo Belwa. I assisted individuals and groups with jobs, money and other material gifts. I sponsored people with life-threatening medical problems for treatment in and outside the country. I assisted those who wanted to start small-scale businesses. I built and equipped schools and mosques. I honoured invitations to weddings, birthdays, funerals, graduations, and so on. All

these made me very popular among the different ethnic and religious groups. I did not discriminate. I had Fulani and non-fulani among my legion of friends and associates. I have always been attracted to people. I shared whatever I have with people. This earned me a lot of goodwill. This was how I built a strong network of supporters particularly in Jada, Ganye, Toungo and Mayo Belwa, and other parts of Adamawa and Taraba. MOTHER S DEATH My mother, Aisha Kande, died suddenly of a heart attack in 1984. I was in Lagos where I had been posted as the Customs Area Administrator in charge of Murtala Muhammed Airport in Ikeja. Lamido Aliyu Musdafa summoned me home and broke the sad news to me in his palace. I wept like a child. She was hale and hearty when we last saw a week earlier. On the day she died, my mother had attended a wedding with her sister, Azumi. at a village near Mayo Belwa. The food they ate there must have been salty. She was hypertensive and diabetic. So was Aunt Azumi. Their doctor, Arabi Tukur of Matco Clinic in Yola, had warned them to avoid too much salt. I had registered her and Azumi as well as their brother, Kawu Ali, at the clinic for regular check-up. As they were returning from the wedding that day in the Peugeot 504 Station Wagon I gave them, mother suddenly called out to her sister, Azumi. My sister, my chest is paining me, she said with her hands on her chest. Shortly after, she slumped. She died on the way to Yola where they had hoped to seek medical attention. She was no more than 58. Mother was laid to rest at Jimeta Cemetery. After the burial rites, I stayed home for the third and seventh day prayers. Several people came to sympathize with me and to pray for the repose of mother s soul and for Allah to give me the fortitude to bear the loss. I felt sad and lonely after mother s death. Sometimes, I wondered if I had repaid her enough for all that she did for me in life. I built houses for her, sent her and Aunt Azumi on Islamic pilgrimage to Mecca, Saudi Arabia, made a car available to them and ensured they lacked nothing. I wished she had lived a little longer to enjoy more of the fruits of her labour.

Chapter 8 A matter of principle A few months before my mother s death, soldiers had overthrown the civilian administration of Shehu Shagari on December 31, 1983. Major-General Muhammadu Buhari became the new Head of State. As part of its monetary policies, the Buhari government had introduced new Naira notes in April 1984. The policy was aimed at halting the illegal speculative trading of the Naira outside the shores of Nigeria. A time limit was imposed within which old notes could be turned in for new ones. Government agencies at the nation s borders, sea and air ports were instructed to screen all bags and containers entering the country to ensure old Naira notes were not being smuggled into the country. A first class traditional ruler and a returning Nigeria diplomat had arrived from Saudi Arabia with several bags. My officers at the Airport in Lagos were not allowed to search the bags. The duty officers reported the incident in writing. I did not know how a newspaper got wind of it. The Guardian, a Lagos-based newspaper, reported on its front page on June 10, 1984 that Passenger with 53 suitcases leaves airport unchecked. The incident became a scandal and the government was forced to set up an administrative panel of inquiry to determine why due process was not followed. The government was clearly embarrassed by the incident and rather than punish those who flouted its directive that all baggage be searched, it began to look for scapegoats. They mounted pressure on me to deny that the incident ever happened. I was threatened and intimidated. I vowed to surrender my uniform and quit the Customs rather than lie. The federal government would later declare that the controversial 53 suitcases contained the personal effects of the traditional ruler, the returning ambassador and members of their families. The government added that those who intimidated and threatened the Customs officers on duty on that day at the airport had been reprimanded. Some government officials wanted me sacked for not covering up their mess. But Finance Minister Onaolapo Soleye, who supervised the Department of Customs and Excise, said I should be left alone. Soleye did not know me. He acted on the basis of the facts before him. He said it would be unfair to punish me for doing my job and for standing by my officers. He was also swayed by my impeccable service record. No queries. No sanctions. My file was filled with commendations for meeting and exceeding revenue targets at the different posts I had headed.

FIGHTING DRUG TRAFFICKING On July 22, 1986, I married the former Fatima Shettima in Maiduguri. We met in Lagos while she was attending the Nigerian Law School. She settled in Lagos, running her own business and raising our children - Amina, Mohammed and the twins Ahmed (named after businessman Mai Deribe) and Shehu (named after Shehu Musa Yar Adua) as well as Aisha and Zainab). While still in Lagos, the Department of Customs and Excise sent me on a month-long course on Drug Law and Enforcement at the Police Academy in Cairo, Egypt. The United States Drug Enforcement Agency (USDEA) sponsored the course for drug enforcement agencies from several African countries. The USDEA was worried that many African countries were becoming transit points for illegal drugs such as cocaine and heroin produced in South America and South-East Asia and consumed in wealthy countries in Europe and the United States. The USDEA officer in Lagos, John Pope, had been so impressed with my drug interdiction efforts at the airport that he organized for me to attend a two-month Executive Programme on Drug Enforcement in the United States in 1985. The programme took me to Washington, DC, Chicago s O Hare Airport, the Texas - Mexico border and the California - Mexico border. I even accompanied USDEA officers on drug interdiction mission. Shortly after I returned from the course, the Department of Customs and Excise set up the Enforcement and Drugs Unit to co-ordinate its anti-drug smuggling activities throughout the country. In 1987, I was appointed Deputy Director of Customs and Excise in charge of Enforcement and Drugs. As one of the first officers to be trained at home and abroad on drugs and enforcement, I was a natural choice to head the unit. I coordinated Customs anti-drugs smuggling and interdiction activities throughout the nation s land borders, airports and sea ports. A PASSION FOR LEARNING I have always had a passion for education. In 1988, my second wife, Ladi and I registered a limited liability company called ABTI-ZARHAM (formed from the first letters of the names of our children: Abba and Atiku Jnr = ABTI and Zainab, Rukaiya, Hauwa and Maryam = ZARHAM). We established ABTI Nursery and Primary School in Yola in 1992. We later set up ABTI Academy, an elite high school with boarding facilities modeled after the British public school. It was followed by ABTI-American University (now American University of Nigeria, Yola). It provides American-style university education to students. Nothing gives me

more joy and fulfillment in life than my modest contributions to the improvement of education in Nigeria.

Chapter 9 Political Life MEETING YAR ADUA Shehu Musa Yar Adua (Tafida), my political mentor

While in my office one day, I was informed that Shehu Musa Yar Adua, the retired Major- General and former deputy to Obasanjo, was waiting to see me. Yar Adua wanted a license to import beans from Niger Republic for sale in Nigeria. I told him that he would have to write an application to President Ibrahim Babangida for the license. Yar Adua thanked me and left. Babangida approved his application. Yar Adua imported the beans from Niger Republic, sold them and made good money. He felt he needed to show his appreciation to me for assisting him. I was happy to see him again when he visited me and happier still to know that his business had gone well. He offered me a token of appreciation, but I declined, saying it was unnecessary. I said I was just doing my job. Yar Adua was highly impressed. In an organization known for its endemic corruption and unethical deals, he was happy to find one decent officer. From that day, a friendship developed between us. As our friendship grew, Yar Adua briefed me about his own efforts to build a grassroots political movement that would be the vanguard of a new Nigeria with a common sense of purpose. He said only a strong, national party could end military dictatorship and create a united, stable, prosperous and progressive country. He wanted me to work with him to realize that vision, saying Nigeria needed a new generation of leaders like me.

GOING INTO POLITICS When I joined the Customs 20 years earlier, I had drawn a graph anticipating my career progression from Cadet to Director of Customs by age 40. I told myself that if by the time I was 40 years old I did not head the organization, I would quit. I retired at 43 as a Deputy Director on April 30, 1989. I paid the mandatory three months salary in lieu of notice to the government. All Government property in my possession shall be duly returned to the stores whilst my gratuity is to be used to settle the balance of my housing loan, I wrote. I hereby convey my sincere gratitude and appreciation to the Government of the Federation and in particular the Department of Customs and Excise for giving me an opportunity to serve for 20 years. I assure you of the availability of my services as and when I may be called upon to serve the nation, my letter read. A year before my retirement, I had started attending political meetings at Shehu Yar Adua s house in Ikoyi, Lagos. Look, you are good, you relate well with people. I think you will make a good politician. Why don t you join me in politics, Shehu Musa Yar Adua said to me one day. That was how it all started. The Yar Adua Group, as we came to be known, wanted to build a bridge across the old fault lines of ethnicity, religion and region. In May 1989, the Babangida administration finally lifted the ban on party politics. The Yar Adua group immediately unveiled its political association, the People s Front of Nigeria (PFN), which had the pursuit of justice, peace, and service as its motto and People First as its slogan. At its first national convention in June 1989, Farouk Abdul Azeez, a medical doctor from the then Kwara State, was elected Chairman while a woman, Titi Ajanaku, was elected National Secretary. Six of us represented the then Gongola State at the convention. I was elected one of the National Vice Chairmen of the party. I was also in charge of setting up party structures in the South-East where I already had a network of friends and business associates. Yar Adua and I paid the initial expenses of the PFN. I took PFN to Gongola State. It was the first political association to be launched in the state when the ban on party politics was lifted. I was the party s sole financier in the state. My contributions to my immediate community had earned me a lot of goodwill and support. Of the 13 political associations formed at the time, the PF was the most organized and disciplined. Yet, on October 7, 1989, President Babangida announced that his Armed Forces Ruling Council had decided not to register any of the associations because, as he put it, the associations were set up by the same old discredited politicians who must never be allowed back

in power. He disbanded the 13 associations and created and funded two new parties the Social Democratic Party (SDP) and the National Republican Convention (NRC). The SDP, he said, was a little to the left in terms of its ideological orientation while the NRC was a little to the right. He asked politicians to join either of the two. We in the Yar Adua group decided to join the Social Democratic Party (SDP), the party considered closer to the PF in ideological orientation. The parties were formally launched in Abuja on October 7, 1989. I was one of the delegates from Gongola State. I was elected to the 1989 Constituent Assembly. TO BE GOVERNOR When I joined partisan politics in 1989, I had a clear idea that I wanted to be Governor of Gongola State. I made a formal declaration of my intention at a press conference on September 1, 1990 during which I also unveiled my plans for the state. I wanted an opportunity to use the modest resources of the state to provide social amenities and attract investments. I wanted to raise the standard of living for the majority of the people through improved agricultural production, quality education, and well-developed infrastructure in both urban and rural areas. I wanted to make the state a model for other states. On August 27, 1991, the Babangida administration created nine new states. Gongola State was broken into Adamawa and Taraba States. My new state of Adamawa consisted of the old Adamawa Province and the defunct Numan and Ganye Divisions.

The SDP governorship primary in Adamawa State was held in November 1991. Six people contested with me, including Bala Takaya, a former political science lecturer at the University of Jos. The primary took place amidst allegations that the state party executives were solidly behind Bala Takaya. Voting was relatively peaceful and orderly. The result was however disputed. I was declared winner but Bala Takaya and his supporters protested. It was amidst this chaos that in December 1991, the Babangida administration announced the cancellation of nine state primary election results, including that of Adamawa. Takaya and I were also disqualified from contesting the upcoming governorship election. The former state Chairman of the party, Boss Mustapha, emerged the winner of a fresh governorship primary. He had just two weeks to convince the people of Adamawa State to vote for him. Apart from the short time available for campaign, Mustapha s chances were also weakened by the unresolved internal bickering in the party. So it was not surprising that the candidate of the rival NRC, Saleh Michika, won the December 14, 1991 governorship election. TO BE PRESIDENT Yar Adua and 12 other so-called banned politicians were arrested and detained on December 2, 1991 for participating in politics despite having been banned. He was released on December 20, 1991 after 17 days in detention. He was free to participate in politics again, the government said. We, his associates, persuaded him to join the race for the presidency. He declared his interest on February 25, 1992 at City Hall, Lagos. He promised to create a united, stable and progressive Nigeria with a common purpose and vision. He was one of the 50 presidential aspirants of the two parties that participated in the six-zone presidential primaries from May 2 to June 20, 1992. I was Yar Adua s campaign coordinator. I really wanted to see him become the President of this country. I had no doubt in my mind that he would have made a good President. He had a vision and he knew how to bring good people together to achieve his goals. A three-stage party primary was introduced, beginning in September 1992. By the end of the first round, Yar Adua had emerged the front-runner, beating prominent politicians in their strongholds. The Babangida administration cashed in on the unfounded allegations of rigging, thuggery and bribery and cancelled the primary results on November 17, 1992. All 23 presidential aspirants were also banned. The executives of the two parties were dissolved. A new system of presidential primary was announced. The handover date from military to civilian rule was extended to August 17, 1993.

With Yar Adua banned, the group needed someone that its members could rally round. My influence, hard work and selfless contributions to the Yar Adua group as well as my loyalty to Yar Adua and my youthfulness (I was then 46 years old) counted in my favour. The task before me was daunting. My closeness to Tafida (as I used to call him) also meant that I would inherit both his goodwill and his ill-will. I knew that those who did not want Yar Adua to become President could also stop me. But I was not deterred. I decided to run on the same ideas and vision that Yar Adua had espoused during his candidacy a strong, united, democratic and prosperous Nigeria. Babagana Kingibe, a former member of the Yar Adua group who became SDP Chairman because of the group s support, was also vying for the party s presidential ticket. So was newcomer Moshood Kashimawo Olawale Abiola, a wealthy businessman and newspaper publisher. I contested and won the SDP presidential primary in Adamawa State in March 1993. Moshood Abiola, 55 years old, and Babagana Kingibe, 48, had also won in their respective states. Altogether, 27 of us from various states converged in Jos in March 1993 to contest the SDP Presidential ticket at the national convention of the party. I campaigned on the need for a strong economy with agriculture as a top priority. I promised Nigerians that their collective interest would count first when far-reaching economic decisions were being taken. I said I would run a true federalism if elected President. To stop Kingibe, whom we all believed had betrayed our group, the Yar Adua group resolved to negotiate with Abiola. We would support Abiola s candidacy for the presidency in return for making me his running mate. We met Abiola and his key advisers and agreed to go to the Jos convention to push for an Abiola-Atiku ticket. Thereafter, we would harmonize our campaign structures and finances. At the end of the first ballot, Abiola came first with 3,617 votes. Kingibe came a close second with 3,225 votes. I came third with 2,066 votes. We met again with Abiola. We agreed that I should step down for Abiola in the final round of voting. I agreed to subordinate my personal ambition for the sake of democracy. I was ready for any personal sacrifice that could end military rule in Nigeria. In the two-way race between Abiola and Kingibe, Abiola triumphed with 2,683 votes to Kingibe s 2,456 votes. However, Abiola refused to honour the agreement to make me his running mate. He picked Babagana Kingibe. Yar Adua was angry over Abiola s betrayal. I knew it would be difficult to persuade him to support Abiola again. I was concerned about our party. Without the support of the Yar Adua group, the SDP could lose the presidential election to the NRC whose Bashir Tofa, then 46, was generally thought to be inexperienced.

Knowing that Shehu Yar Adua s father and former military ruler Olusegun Obasanjo were the two people in the world that Yar Adua could not refuse, I went to see Obasanjo at his Ota farm to ask him to convince Yar Adua not to withdraw his support for Abiola. I said the Yar Adua group needed to work closely with Abiola to defeat the reactionary forces in the upcoming election and to get Babangida out of office. Obasanjo promised to talk to his former deputy. He did. And the Yar Adua group went on to support Abiola who won the June 12 election. But the Babangida administration annulled the election midway into the vote count. We were all sad and angry about the annulment. We were tired of the endless transition. But we could not leave the ship of state adrift. We began consulting other political groups. In the end, a compromise was reached to form an Interim National Government (ING) with corporate chieftain Ernest Shonekan as Head. The ING was sacked three months later by General Sani Abacha, the Defence Minister. Nigeria once again returned to full military rule. It was in the midst of this challenging political situation in 1994 that I received news of the death of my aunt, Hajiya Fatima Isa, popularly known as Azumi. She was about 68 years old. She died exactly a decade after my mother, Hajiya Aisha Kande.

Chapter 10 Political crisis A little over six months into his administration, Abacha gathered politicians in Abuja to fashion yet another constitution. I was elected by my people to represent them at the Constituent Assembly. Shehu Yar Adua was also an elected delegate from Katsina State. The conference began in June 1994 with 273 delegates, including 96 appointees of the government. In the middle of its proceedings, I was informed that Abacha wanted to see me. When I met him, Abacha told me he would like to work with me. He said I should support his political programme and advised me to dump Yar Adua. I said Yar Adua was my friend and that he should not try to tear us apart. I said I was my own man and that I could take decisions of my own. Abacha was not impressed. He asked me to go and think about it. By March 1995 Abacha began to move against opponents of his government. Yar Adua was the first on his list. He was arrested and detained on March 9, 1995 for daring to recommend a terminal date for the Abacha government. General Obasanjo was also arrested. Days after their arrest, Abdulsalami Abubakar, Chief of Defence Staff, addressed a press conference in Lagos during which he disclosed that 29 officers and civilians had been arrested in connection with a coup plot. Brigadier-General Felix Mujakperuo was picked to head the Special Investigation Panel (SIP) into the alleged coup. Suspects were tortured and forced to confess their role in the coup and to implicate innocent men such as Obasanjo and Yar Adua. A sham trial was staged. Yar Adua was sentenced to death and Obasanjo to life imprisonment. In an Independence Day broadcast on October 1, 1995, Abacha announced the commutal of 13 of the death sentences to various terms of imprisonment. Obasanjo s life sentence was reduced to 15 years while Yar Adua s death sentence was reduced to 25 years. This was in response to pressure from to a coalition of journalists, human rights activists, pro-democracy campaigners and the international community, including the Pope. I visited Kirikiri as often as I could to see Yar Adua with Inua Baba, the Plateau State-born personal assistant to Yar Adua. In detention, Yar Adua was more concerned about the future of the country than about his own life. He feared that Abacha would throw the country into chaos. He was later transferred to Port Harcourt and Abakaliki Prisons. Abacha was not satisfied keeping Yar Adua in jail and intimidating me. He was determined to cripple our businesses as well. He seized our most lucrative business, NICOTES, and renamed it INTELS (Integrated and Logistics Services). Yar Adua and I were removed from the company as shareholders.

My residence in Kaduna was attacked by unknown gunmen in May 1995. Six policemen and one guard died in that attack. It is still a miracle to me how my wife, Titi, our son, Adamu, and I escaped unhurt. GOING INTO EXILE Following the bloody attack in Kaduna, family and friends persuaded me to leave the country for a while. Abacha s security agents trailed me everywhere in their unmarked cars and trademark dark sunglasses. My telephone lines were bugged. I had to sneak out at night to meet people. My life under Abacha was horrible. I used to remain in my house for a month without going anywhere. The State Security Service (SSS) seized my international passport just as I was making plans to travel outside the country to cool off and to seek the support of some political and business leaders in Europe and the United States for the democratic struggle in Nigeria. I obtained another passport in the name of Atiku Kojoli. With the assistance of friends within the security forces at the airport, I was smuggled into a London-bound flight directly from the tarmac. I arrived London late 1995. I made several unsuccessful efforts to reach the British Foreign Office. The government of Prime Minister John Major was, as usual with the British, a bit too cautious in its dealings with the Nigerian opposition. From London, I linked up with Jackie Farris who had worked as a consultant on polling and political strategy with the Shehu Musa Yar Adua presidential campaign in 1992. Through her I was able to re-establish contacts with former Atlanta Mayor Andrew Young. He promised to talk to his contacts at the State Department in Washington, DC to get me an appointment. While in the United States, I also re-established contact with Jennifer Iwenjiora, the television journalist I had known as a friend in Lagos since 1982. She was then living in Maryland. Jennifer and I later married and had Abdulmalik, Zahra and Faisal. Jennifer took me to some of the contacts Young and Farris had arranged for me in Washington, D.C. USA. Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs, Susan Rice, received me warmly in her office. I briefed her on the political situation in Nigeria and commended the Clinton Administration for supporting the democratic struggle in Nigeria. I pleaded with the Administration to press Abacha to free political prisoners, such as Yar Adua and Obasanjo, and restore democratic rule. Rice expressed delight in seeing me and promised the Clinton Administration s commitment to the restoration of democracy in Nigeria. She noted that I was the first Northern politician to seek the assistance of the U. S. Government to free political prisoners and end military rule.

YAR ADUA S DEATH I wept like a baby on December 8, 1997 when I was informed that Major-General Shehu Musa Yar Adua had died in Abakaliki prison. He was just 54 years old. Yar Adua had transformed Nigerian politics with his organizational skill, analytical mind and his uncommon gift as a strategist. I lost a brother, a mentor, a confidant and a friend in Yar Adua. He remains one of the few people in this world who have made a lasting impact on my life. I admired his simplicity, meticulousness and patriotism. I initially kept away from the Abacha transition programme. Then late in 1997, Lamido Aliyu Musdafa made an urgent call to me in the United States. He wanted me back in the country. He said Abacha had assured him that I would be safe. Abacha needed credible politicians to participate in his transition programme. I initially joined the National Centre Party of Nigeria (NCPN). I was ordered by Abacha s agents to join UNCP, the government-sponsored party. I went with thousands of my supporters. On February 5, 1998, I declared my intention to vie for the UNCP governorship ticket. DEATH OF ABACHA & ABIOLA Then, on June 8, 1998 Abacha died suddenly of a heart attack in Abuja at the age of 54. Many Nigerians were relieved that his corrupt and brutal five-year rule had ended. Abacha was laid to rest in Kano on the same day. Chief of Defence Staff, Abdulsalami Abubakar, became the new Head of State. One month after Abacha s death, Moshood Abiola also died suddenly in detention. The new Head of State, General Abdulsalami Abubakar read the national mood well. He released political detainees and announced a short transition to civil rule programme. He also began to look into previous rights violations. I petitioned him about the seizure of INTELS from Yar Adua and I. He set up a committee to look into it and the committee promptly recommended that the company be returned to us as the rightful owners. FROM GOVERNOR TO VICE PRESIDENCY As soon as the military government announced its transition programme, the Peoples Democratic Movement (PDM), as the Yar Adua group came to be known, immediately reconvened in Lagos. We resolved to liaise with other political associations with the hope of

setting up a strong national party that would promote unity and stability and serve as a bulwark against military incursion into politics. On August 19, 1998, the PDM and other groups came together to form the People s Democratic Party (PDP) as a credible, nationwide, people-oriented and principled political party, enjoying the widest support throughout the Federal Republic of Nigeria. I led a small group to identify a presidential candidate from the South-west that we could support. The Abubakar government sent an emissary to inform us that they wanted Olusegun Obasanjo. In the end, our group agreed to support Obasanjo s candidacy. A contact team was set up with Lawal Kaita, Sunday Afolabi, Ango Abdullahi, Titi Ajanaku and I as members. We knew Obasanjo was respected internationally. He had retired long enough for him to be trusted by civilians and he was trusted by the military as one of their own. We were convinced that Obasanjo would make a good President. After Obasanjo agreed to contest the PDP presidential primary, I went back to Adamawa to realize my long-time dream of governing my state. I was unanimously picked as the PDP governorship candidate for Adamawa State. Boni Haruna was my running mate. I won the January 9, 1999 governorship election, defeating my perennial rival, Bala Takaya of the All Nigeria People s Party. The PDP held its national convention in Jos in January 1999 and Obasanjo defeated former Vice President Alex Ekwueme to become the party s candidate. He chose me as his Vice Presidential candidate. I was quite surprised as I had not shown any interest in the position. I wanted to govern my state but that was not God s will. Our ticket was sold to the electorate as a team of two great personalities, the convergence of two generations and the bridging of the South/Christian and North/Muslim gulf. Obasanjo went on to win the February 27, 1999 presidential election, defeating former Secretary to the Government, Olu Falae, who ran on the AD/ANPP joint ticket.

At a campaign rally, 1999 When I became the Vice Presidential candidate, some people felt that Boni Haruna could not automatically take my place as the Governor-elect of Adamawa State. However, on May 14, 1999 the Supreme Court upheld Boni Haruna as Governor-elect. Haruna then named Bello Tukur as his deputy. Obasanjo and I were sworn into office as President and Vice President respectively at a colourful ceremony in Abuja on May 29, 1999.

Official portrait as Vice President in May 29, 1999