If it were by election, Yardomah Mandara would not have been at the National Conference. At 24, she would have been easily bullied out. Appointed on the platform of Nigerian youths, she has spoken just once during the plenary. And that was enough to give her a standing applause.
Sam Akpe
Sensing the indignation as she picked the microphone that day, she said: “I will start by telling our elders that we, the youths, are here not to compete or rub shoulders with you; we are here for you to be the shoulders we can lean on; and we want you to support us.”
Her speech was a complete departure from that of her colleague who had, 24 hours earlier, described elderly delegates as passengers in the departure lounge of their lives. I’m sure not a few elders cursed him in silence.
Mandara lost her father last year; but has fond memories of him.
Her words: “He always told us this: whether you are Yoruba, Hausa, Igbo, whatever tribe you are, we are all one. He also said whether you are Muslim or Christian, we are all one. So, it saddens me as a young Nigerian to see our elders here talking about tribes, religion and region.”
That was when the applause started. She wasn’t done yet: “We want them to unite… We all agree that we have common enemies. Our common enemies are injustice, corruption, unemployment and terrorism. Your children are at home wasting away unemployed. Some of them revert to violence, kidnapping, robbery, and a host of other things. Some months ago, your grandchildren and children were murdered in cold blood in Yobe State. Their crime was being young, being innocent, and being in school. So many children have been turned to orphans; so many women have been turned to widows. It is sad, it is painful. I want us to unite and form an army…of a united Nigeria to fight our common enemies. Our common enemies know no Christian, they know no Muslim. They kill all of us. We have to unite to fight them.”
The delegates rose to their feet, with their eyes fixed on her. The applause was deafening, though a rule had just been adopted against clapping in the hall. That rule had to be broken for good reasons.
Then came April 7; various delegates, as if pre-arranged, spoke on ethno-religious issues. They painted gory pictures of how either Muslims were killing Christians, or Christians were provoking Muslims. A bishop cited how many times the words Islam and Mosque are used in the 1999 Constitution while the words Church and Christianity are either not mentioned at all or not given the same number of repetitions. Delegates of Islamic faith did not also spare their opposites.
When it was as though the verbal bickering would turn fistful, a hand went up, a voice spoke and the hall listened. It was that of Nurudeen Lemu. First, yours truly thought he was one of those bent on preaching religious extremities. But he said something different. Even Pastor Tunde Bakare was impressed.
Nurudeen became instant revelation. He spoke in a soothing, strong voice calmed by unmistakable eloquence. His first sentence made heads turn. Statesmen tapped their feet. Women wiped tears off their cheeks. Youths looked in wonder.
Lemu said, “As a delegate, and as a people representing people of faith in God from the Islamic perspective, one thing we believe is that God will protect the community that stands for justice, even if they are not Muslims; and God will not protect the community that goes contrary to justice, even if they call themselves Muslims. God is not a religious bigot. He is not a male chauvinist. He is not an ethno-centric tribalist. God is not the oppressor of anyone. God is with those who care, those who want for others those things they want for themselves.”
Then he paused. Great speeches are not rushed. They are delivered. They come with unusual punctuated pauses. He talked about religious arrogance and loyalty to ethnic values, instead of God. He asked delegates to ensure that the spiritual strength they have keeps them from getting angry and bitter towards others; and that their actions be guided by the rule of law, so that those who trample on the rights of others are punished.
People were already moved to tears and self-condemnation. Then he earned the applause. “As delegates from the Supreme Council of Islamic Affairs, we condemn the murder of all Christians; we condemn the murder of all Muslims. Not because they are Christians or Muslims, but because they are human beings. There is no compulsion in religion. We all own Nigeria. Every majority or settler is an indigene somewhere. In one way, we are all settlers. We are all visitors to this planet, from God we came and to Him we will return.” The hall rose to its feet.
If I have distracted you today, it is because the confab is not all about old men snoring away; it is about ideas. Some stars are emerging and rearing to go. They are loaded with words that can transform.
