My June 12 story: Narrow escape from the Abacha junta — by Adegbenro Adebanjo

Prologue

Some stood for June 12, some were imprisoned for June 12, some died for June 12, some lost their commissions because of June 12. Many ate and are still eating on June 12.

They came for me in the forenoon. It was a Friday in May 1995. The operatives from the Directorate of Military Intelligence (DMI) were told to get Adegbenro Adebanjo, the TELL senior writer, at all costs. Unknown to me, I had been declared wanted by the junta of General Sani Abacha.

My crime was the story I wrote in Dateline, a sister publication of TELL magazine, on the phantom coup plot believed to have been designed to cage military and political opponents of the junta, particularly those campaigning for the release of Chief M.K.O. Abiola, whose victory in the June 12, 1993 presidential election was annulled by the Ibrahim Babangida and Sani Abacha junta despite universal acclaim that it was the freest and fairest election in Nigeria’s history.

The men, in military fashion, barged into the TELL newsroom on Acme Road, Ogba, Lagos, demanding to see me. The then head of the newsroom, Ima Niboro, who later served as Special Adviser on Media to President Goodluck Jonathan, received the unwanted visitors.

He told them that I was not available and that the Editor, Ayodele Akinkuotu, who incidentally walked in while Niboro was attending to our guests, was also not available.

Of course, Mr. Akinkuotu quickly beat a hasty retreat.

To be sure, I was not around TELL when the DMI agents came for me. I was in charge of production that week. I had slept in the office and left the following morning and, by tradition, had taken the day off. That was the saving grace.

The operatives did not want to leave empty-handed. They tricked George Mbah, who supplied part of the reports I used for the story, bundled him into a waiting vehicle and whisked him away.

That was the last we saw of him until he was arraigned before a Special Military Tribunal on charges of accessory after the fact of treason. He was subsequently sentenced to life imprisonment.

Word got to me from our sources indicating that I was on the watch list and that a number of operatives were after me. I was likely to face a worse fate before the tribunal.

I was two months into my 28th year then and was facing persecution of the most horrendous variety from the country of my birth just for doing my job of reporting the truth.

I immediately went underground, changed my name and, for the next three years, became a fugitive from the Abacha junta.

There were many close shaves, but God was wonderful all through. I remember my trip to the USA in 1996. As I got to the last point of departure at the Murtala Muhammed International Airport, I saw a list indicating people prohibited from travelling outside the country.

Just as the officer was about to start interrogating me, God intervened and I was allowed to travel (for security reasons, I would not say more than this about the encounter).

Of course, I came back through the Murtala Muhammed International Airport and, through divine intervention, passed through immigration and other security checks without any incident.

There was another close shave. I was covering one of the elections under the convoluted transition programme of the Sani Abacha junta in 1997. It was at Eleweran, the headquarters of the Police in Ogun State. I used my assumed name to gain access and file reports for TELL.

The then Commissioner of Police asked all the media personnel to introduce themselves by name and media organisation. When it got to my turn, I ducked. After everyone had introduced themselves, he said: “Okay, it’s fine. There’s nobody from TELL here.”

Some of my colleagues exchanged knowing glances. And that was the end of my assignment.

Just before the death of Abacha, they nearly got me. I was in the newsroom on a Tuesday in May 1998. Because we had not had any recent encounters with our friends from the SSS, whom we jokingly called the “Three Satans,” I was quite relaxed.

Then I suddenly had a prompting to go downstairs. Just as I got very close to the gate, four men, guns in hand, barged in, locked the gate and ordered everyone to stop whatever they were doing. Two of them went upstairs.

Mercifully, some technicians were working on the company’s generator and I quickly joined them, smearing my hands with engine oil. One of the security men came to us and asked us to abandon the repairs and get out.

Of course, I calmly walked out and, about 300 metres later, broke into a sprint and made good my escape, singing: “We bless You Lord, You are holy, and forever You are God.”

After the death of Abacha, Mbah, Moshood Fayemiwo, Niran Malaolu (whom I later worked with when he became Commissioner for Information in Ogun State) and other prisoners of war were freed by the Abdulsalami Abubakar junta. I later learned that the charges against me died with the Abacha junta.

I strongly believe that God prevented the junta’s henchmen from arresting me because He knew I would die in their gulag.

Today, I remember and worship the King of Kings who saved me from death in the gulag.

To God be the glory.

Praise the Lord!

Hallelujah.

— Adebanjo is a former Editor, Politics, TELL Magazine.