THE STRUGGLE FOR TRUTH

“Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.”

— Helen Keller

The indelible memory of a pivotal day remains with me. It was within the walls of the Nigeria Union of Journalists (NUJ) building in Victoria Island, Lagos. At that particular moment, we were about to embark on a new journey with the launch of The News, for which we had called a press conference to announce its inaugural issue. Clad in a suit, I sat among my esteemed colleagues—Bayo Onanuga and Idowu Obasa, along with our newly recruited staff. When it was my turn to address the audience, I proclaimed, “We are about to chart a pioneering course in the history of the Nigerian media, and we may undergo experiences unprecedented by any other journalist or news publishing establishment in the past.”

My premonition materialized soon after the first edition of the magazine was released. Three of my colleagues—Bayo Onanuga, Dapo Olorunyomi, and Seye Kehinde—were promptly apprehended, taken to court, and detained in Ikoyi prison. This marked the beginning of a relentless onslaught. Raids, arrests, imprisonment, torture, murder, and arson became our new reality. We were declared wanted on national television and radio. Our publications were proscribed, catching the attention of dictatorial powers. Street vendors were cautioned against selling our publications, and those who defied these warnings were apprehended and detained. Some vendors even bore scars from razor blade markings on their backs. Hundreds of thousands of publications were confiscated and destroyed. We could no longer operate from our offices and the prospect of returning home after our daily toil was shadowed by the looming dread of arrest and imprisonment. Our families bore the brunt of harassment and persecution, with Ladi, the wife of Dapo Olorunyomi, and her six-month-old baby apprehended by the Directorate of Military Intelligence in lieu of Dapo.

We incurred significant financial losses due to the incessant raids. However, in the face of these relentless adversities, our resolve remained unyielding, much like that of many of our staff, vendors, and patrons. We garnered the support of Nigerians who were disenchanted with military rule and aspired for a new beginning. They not only purchased our publications but also shared behind-the-scenes information with us.

Moreover, numerous individuals went beyond mere solidarity, offering us access to their facilities. Lateef Kayode Jakande, former Governor of Lagos State (now deceased), extended the use of his press, situated in a dense thicket on ACME Road, Ogba, Lagos, to us. Another former Governor of the Second Republic, Jim Nwobodo, also fearlessly opened the doors of his printing press to us. Subsequently, Chief Anthony Enahoro, a noteworthy figure in Nigeria’s independence and a NADECO chieftain, afforded his press in Benin, which we relocated to an unfinished building on ACME Road in Ikeja. Following the military regime’s exit from power, this edifice served as the headquarters of our operations.

As our resilience grew, the military authorities intensified their persecution of our organization, as well as other media houses across the country. I distinctly recall Dr. Walter Ofonagoro, the then Minister of Information, issuing a directive prohibiting government offices from subscribing to our publications or placing adverts with us. This decree, almost fatal, dealt a potentially crippling blow. Nevertheless, well-meaning individuals extended their assistance to us. Notably, Pa Alfred Rewane, a venerable figure of pre-independence Nigeria, and of the First and Second Republics, allocated a weekly advert page as his contribution to sustain our operation. Tragically, he was assassinated in his own bedroom by agents of the military regime. Dr. Beko Ransome-Kuti, Fela, Femi Falana, Chief Gani Fawehinmi, Alao Aka-Bashorun, Kanmi Isola Osobu, Olisa Agbakoba, Ayo Obe, Abdul Oroh, Richard Akinnola, Bamidele Aturu, and Prof Yemi Osinbajo (now Vice President of Nigeria) provided unwavering support as either pro-bono legal defenders or human rights advocates who amplified our plight while advocating for justice.

Reminiscent of the gong, the more our oppressors attempted to silence us, the louder our voice resonated. We have endeavored to collectively recount our experiences in the well-crafted book, "Trials and Travails," penned by the esteemed academic Professor Wale Adebanwi. Numerous others have also authored articles and academic papers chronicling this era of our national life and our resistance to military rule.

My esteemed colleague, Mr. Kunle Ajibade, has shared his involvement in this struggle through his widely acclaimed books, "Jailed for Life: A Reporter’s Prison Notes" and "What a Country!" Other colleagues are poised, in due course, to present their personal accounts and recollections.

In Adventures of a Guerilla Journalist, I delineate my encounters, particularly the perilous confrontations with security operatives. Reflecting on my sixtieth birthday, the poet and public intellectual, Mr. Odia Ofeimun, lauded, "Ojudu was very resourceful. He was resourceful in the sense that he was the kind of man who jumped into fire to prove it was possible. When you see him, you will feel as though he will be the least willing to take such a risk, but in truth, he was a risk-taker of his time. When people were being picked up, you would expect that Ojudu would take cover, but he never did."

This resourcefulness, combined with tenacity, exposed me to danger throughout the period chronicled in this book. It wasn’t tantamount to a ‘fool rushing in where angels fail to tread.’ No. I had profoundly and judiciously contemplated these events or situations before plunging in. Admittedly, I am naturally impervious to the voices that caution against personal peril when undertaking endeavors I believe to be just and beneficial to the majority. Looking back, I struggle to discern the source of that fortitude, that 'to-hell-with-you' disposition in the face of unadulterated and brutal power. Yet, I am certain much of this was inherited from my father and grandparents, community warriors and politicians who staunchly championed their beliefs, even when they faced widespread opposition. My grandfather, Pa Sani Owolabi Ojudu, alias TK Wonder, endured imprisonment for resisting Ladoke Akintola and Remi Fani-Kayode as a member of Obafemi Awolowo’s Action Group. As a youthful activist, my father was an ardent member of the radical Zikist Movement.

I endured the assaults and torture. Hence, today, I recount my story to illustrate that not all who dared were vanquished. It is my aspiration that readers not only find this book engaging but also cultivate a profound understanding of my actions and perspectives. As I reflect on this period, I am invariably reminded of Frank Sinatra's captivating ode to defiance, "I Did It My Way":

I Did It My Way

Regrets, I’ve had a few

But then again, too few to mention

I did what I had to do

And saw it through without exemption

I planned each charted course

Each careful step along the byway

And more, much more than this

I did it my way

Yes, there were times, I am sure you know

When I bit off more than I could chew

But through it all, when there was doubt

I ate it up and spit it out

I faced it all and stood tall

And did it my way

I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and cried

I’ve had my fill, my share of losing

And now, as tears subside

I find it all so amusing

To think I did all that

And may I say, not in a shy way

Oh no, oh no, not me

I did it my way

For what is a man, what has he got

If not himself, then he has naught

To say the things he truly feels

And not the words of one who kneels

The record shows I took the blows

And did it my way

Yes, it was my way

I ardently hope this book serves as a guiding light for budding journalists, inspiring them to view their profession not merely as a means of livelihood but as a conduit for societal transformation.

Although we currently enjoy a modicum of freedom within this democratic dispensation, there remains much more to be achieved. A democracy bereft of an intrepid press to scrutinize and set an agenda will invariably stagnate. We must nurture another generation of journalists, investigators, and writers committed to ethical standards, prepared to risk it all to inform the populace and keep governments accountable. Our contemporary journalism, in form and content, is a mere caricature. I trust that someone, having read this, will be galvanized, akin to the masters of our profession in the 1960s, 70s, and 80s, who inspired our intrepid journey.

Before concluding, I propose a brief discussion on the term ‘Guerrilla Journalism.’ I cannot ascertain who first coined this term to describe our practice during that period. Foreign media outlets and human rights communities expressed profound interest in our resistance to military rule and began to scrutinize the ubiquity of our practitioners. Editorial meetings convened in unusual locations, including bus stops, stadiums during football matches, roadside eateries, nightclubs, and even inside moving vehicles traversing the streets of Lagos. Drafts handwritten on tear-off newsprints were clandestinely conveyed to editors in obscure sites. Once the editing process concluded, the edited drafts were transported to a business district in Ogba, established for the purpose of providing a cover, or to a covert two-room production center in Isale Eko, borrowed from a newsprint supplier. After typesetting and layout, the data were copied onto a diskette and conveyed to our ubiquitous printers in Somolu, Mushin, Ikeja, and Ogba. Following the interior printing and production of our magazine covers, these were transported to another concealed location for binding, trimming, and packaging. This intricate and resourceful distribution process added a layer to our operations, undetected by security agencies. When our publications needed to reach destinations across the country, we circumvented scrutiny by superimposing our incendiary materials beneath harmless newspapers, particularly the government-owned Daily Times. When stacked atop our publications, the copies of other benign newspapers provided a protective cover when distribution vehicles were subjected to inspections by security personnel on the roads. On multiple occasions, the drivers of our distribution vehicles circumvented stops by freely offering copies to interceding policemen from the Daily Times stack they maintained close to their seats. When necessary, we even engaged the services of drivers transporting other papers to aid in disseminating ours, leveraging the credibility of their company logos to avoid being suspected of distributing our materials surreptitiously.

Our unparalleled ingenuity and distribution practices perturbed the security agencies. Hence, they endeavored to impugn our credibility by fabricating their versions of our publications. Unsuccessful in their bids, they fabricated a story alleging that our publications were printed in the basement of the American embassy in Lagos and disseminated using diplomatic vehicles. It was an egregious lie. Nevertheless, this mendacity offered a brief hiatus from the relentless attacks, as no one dared to raid an embassy to confiscate a ‘guerrilla’ printing press. Truthfully, we harbored no such printing press in the basement of the US Embassy or any other diplomatic mission, for that matter.

You can comprehend why we were attributed with the epithet ‘guerrilla journalists.’ We were everywhere. We refused to be silenced. We rebuffed the authorities’ attempts to curb our duty of disseminating information to the masses. Even when they branded us as fugitives, we persevered to report, investigate, and editorialize. In instances where they apprehended vendors and confiscated vehicles distributing our publications, we found innovative ways to continue circulating our materials. When movement was prohibited, we leveraged the NADECO Route to Cotonou, from where we voyaged to Accra, Ghana, thus facilitating travel to various destinations. This, in turn, sparked the interest of the world media, human rights groups, and press freedom foundations such as the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), The Freedom Forum, and numerous others.

Our trailblazing practice found nomenclature in the revolutionary lexicon. A guerrilla is "a member of a small independent group engaged in irregular combat, typically against larger regular forces." It further refers to "actions or activities performed in an impromptu way, often without authorization." This encapsulated our practice and aptly tagged it thus for the first time in media history. It was an extraordinary and asymmetric media war.

Throughout our practice, we adhered to the precepts of our profession. Ethical conduct held paramount significance for us. Our investigative diligence was unwavering, and we accorded subjects in our inquiries the opportunity to articulate their narratives. We safeguarded our sources and endeavored to maintain fairness. Like any conscientious publication worldwide, we made our proportionate share of errors, and never hesitated to rectify and tender apologies where necessary. Confident in our convictions, we challenged our accusers to seek redress in the courts. Assisted by Mr. Femi Falana and the late Chief Gani Fawehinmi, we successfully defended against numerous defamation suits. At the same time, several litigants withdrew their claims upon realizing that we possessed indisputable evidence of their culpability. The sole case that ruled against us was presented by the late Chief Olu Onagoruwa. Nevertheless, our defeat was not grounded in merit; the constraints of the time precluded our representation in court.

Amidst these constraints, we discovered moments of respite. We indulged in picnics with our staff and reveled in enjoyment. We fostered an organization that was humane and attentive to the welfare of our employees. We insured their livelihoods and implemented a contributory pension scheme. Furthermore, we eschewed salary arrears. It is plausible that our enduring commitment to our cause, conceding to what we stood for, engendered the loyalty and dedication of the majority of our staff.

The above piece is an excerpt from my book Adventures of a Guerilla Journalist, which is coming out in October 2024.