3rd April, 2012
Governor Babatunde Raji Fashola speaks on his predecessor, Bola Tinubu.
When and how did you meet Senator Bola Tinubu? What was your first impression of him?
That is an invitation to walk down memory lane. I think it must have been 1990 or 1991. He was treasurer in Mobil, then. His office was at the Bookshop House at CMS on Odunlami Street. I didn’t directly meet him. I had seen him at parties, but we never met. At that time, I was a senior associate at the law firm of Sofunde, Osakwe, Ogundipe and Belgore, where I was practising.
Wale Tinubu, his nephew, came to join the law firm, then. He was always mentioning, “Uncle Bola, Uncle Bola”, and one day, he said: “let’s go and see my uncle.” We got there and went out to lunch with him. That was when I could say we formally met.
From then on, he would consult us on legal issues and we would help and give him advice. Sometimes, he would just come and say. “ see we have this issue, what do you lawyers think?”. We ran around and he would always give us pocket money. I think one thing that left some impressions on me was his commitment to his staff and that was symbolised by what I witnessed on a particular day after the Sallah celebration. He brought Sallah meat to the office and supervised its sharing from floor to floor. As exalted as his office was, he was concerned to ensure that those who could not come to his house, even to the lowest driver, got part of the Sallah meat. I recalled that after the sharing of the meat, he sent someone to aggregate how much it would cost to buy soft drinks for everybody and equally distributed money to them.
The incident left an impression on me and that became a practice when I started observing the killing of rams for Sallah. For me, it speaks of his concern about those working for him.
The former governor described you as one of his greatest achievements. What does this mean to you?
Well, there are many ways to look at it. For me, that kind of statement coming from him puts more pressure on me. I thought that I had seen all the pressure that could come from this experience to be governor of Lagos State. That adds pressure on me in no small measure.
I think how I became governor is public knowledge. Nothing could put pressure on me than the commitment in pursuit of his decision in 2006 that I was the candidate he was endorsing for governor and the cost in terms of stress, disagreement, fights and long-drawn emotional arguments. Of course, immediately I won the election, the biggest pressure was to ensure that he didn’t regret the decision.
One, the people of Lagos State could have said: ‘We didn’t know the man you have brought and he has turned the state upside down.’ There are other sides to it that I would want to keep to myself. As I have said time and time again, he should sit down and write his memoirs so that people may know the story of that election. This is what he should use to explain to Lagosians the offers, the counter offers and choices he made and why he, as it were, went for broke.
The question to ask is: What was his abiding commitment after eight years as well as questions on who becomes governor, and, who did not? But, in terms of a next step from there, it is to say that it is an enriching experience for our democracy, and not simply about me. It is also about institution building in the sense that I have continued to compare our 13-year journey in spite of its twists and turns with those that we seek to benchmark ourselves against.
I ask myself: ‘How many candidates have evolved, without first having risen through the ranks? How many presidents of the United States have evolved straight to the top without having served either at some level, as governor, state senators or in some other public capacity as to familiarise themselves with not only what the rules are, but what they are expected to do? It is only that way that we can build the final chain.
If you look at what is happening at the national level and what is happening here in Lagos keenly, you would understand that this model is for a greater good. It is not meant to show any sense of superiority, but to draw attention to some of its intrinsic lessons.
In 13 years, Lagos has had only two commissioners for economic planning and budget, which is a time to grow consistency of policy. Equally, in 13 years, Lagos has had three commissioners for works, and out of the three, one was a permanent secretary. Since the time under review, we have also had two health commissioners, and the one who took over from the previous one was a permanent secretary for eight years. And when you do a comparison across sectors, you find that the model is adhered to.
When you need to take a decision by consensus, the political actors keep changing as the script changes, thereby creating lack of continuity. Imagine starting a movie with one actor and replacing him with another in the middle of production. We are actors on a stage and everybody is watching.
In that sense, Asiwaju deserves a lot of credit. My Attorney-General and Commissioner for Justice was a personal assistant to his own Attorney-General, and that was how he came into government. Dr. Muiz Banire, who was my Commissioner for the Environment, was first a personal assistant to his Commissioner for Transport before becoming the substantive Commissioner for Transport.
There are so many other stories like that within the system, where there is mentoring and nurturing. I didn’t just jump from the outside to become governor. I was in that office for four-and-half years, as the Chief of Staff to the governor and working right inside the governor’s office. I was working 17 hours a day, and this afforded me to see the governor at work, his pains, successes and challenges.
When he started, people complained that he was bringing technocrats into government. But that is what this nation needs in abundance—people who have succeeded in their various undertakings outside of government. It is that success that public service needs.
If you have run the private sector successfully, come and transform that energy and knowledge into running the biggest sector; the sector that owns the biggest money and has the biggest responsibilities. Even though you run a company of about 500 to 600 people, come and work for a state that has over 100,000 workforce, with over 60 parastatals, which are responsible for about 18 million people. So, those things are the major milestones and foundation-laying process and, as I said in a private discussion, I think that we must remain continuously thankful to God for how Asiwaju has become an instrument for what he is implementing in this country.
This is the story of what should be seen more and not governors bickering among themselves; not governors that are afraid to relate with their predecessors.
What was Tinubu like, when you served as his Chief of Staff.
Again, it is like asking me to tell the story. He was hard-working and we did nothing other than work. We live in two different worlds, the peoples’ man and the private man. I was used to working in a very quiet and organised ambience of my law firm and here I was in a government office, where he was busy from morning to night.
I recalled that the first six months of my working with him was a bit harsh. I would resume at the Government House at 6am, while he was still sleeping, because he would probably have gone to sleep at about 5am, when the last politician would have left. We would go to the office around 10am and he would always say “call the Chief of Staff” just as I would be descending, because his office was a floor below mine. I would get a buzz that the governor wanted me. Of course, letters were coming in by their hundreds everyday, same for files while the others must be dealt with immediately. After that, maybe the day ended at around 1am in the office and we would head back to the Government House, and by the time we got there, politicians would be waiting. So, I would wait and take notes for the next day. There were times I would be lucky to escape from there around 3am and my wife wouldn’t even know I came home, because she saw me only in the mornings around 6am, when she would be leaving for work. By 7am, I would be back at the Government House and within the first six months, I discovered I had lost about 8 kilogrammes because I wasn’t sleeping well.
One day, I decided I wasn’t going to report at his residence any longer, because at that time, we had been quarrelling in the office over my inability to attend to mails and letters promptly. The situation couldn’t have been otherwise because there was no time to attend to the mails and files and I ended up carrying them everywhere I went in my car. I decided that if I was going to succeed on the job, then something had to change. I stopped resuming there. I would go straight to the office to wait for him and that gave me time. Once we closed from the office, I would head home. I would just tell the ADC that if he needed me, he could get me on my line. And, nine out of ten times, it did happen and heavens didn’t fall and I became more effective and more organised.
I was able to produce whatever document he requested or answer any question he asked. I had more time to organise the office so that his output could be better. There was a problem along the line, because I was once told that my colleagues complained that I wasn’t coming at nights. And he asked them : ‘Is he your Chief of Staff or mine? We have found the way that works for us, so don’t get involved’.
He was absolutely committed to the protection of all those who worked for him; he was selfless and sacrificed to protect us; he was generous. He always shared his lunch with us and, on several occasions when the food was not enough, he would divide his own portion so that each of us could eat something. We were living on a fast lane to make the state work. It was a good experience, which unknown to me at the time, was preparing me for the job that I now have, though not a job that I wanted, seeing how hard it was.
I remember calling him one Saturday. He told me that he hadn’t had his bath and hadn’t shaved, and I said: Well, you are the governor of Lagos State and he said in Yoruba: “Mo se gba pe ola ni iyonu (uneasy lies the head that wears the crown)”. Those are some of the soundbites that have remained with me. On this job we don’t sleep, so that the citizens of the state can sleep. When it is raining, I wake up to wake people up to test the drainage system to see that it works. Asiwaju was a benchmark for selflessness in governance.
What is your message to him on his 60th birthday?
My message is to wish him well, his family, and, particularly, his wife and children. If anyone cares to know, they have paid the price: many lonely nights, many days away from home and young children taken away from home during his days in exile. Growing up without the daily presence of mother and father, unless occasional visits. Last Christmas, he called me to say that his children wanted to take him to a restaurant and he didn’t want to go. I told him that he was out of office now and must go to make up for the time of his absence from home. He agreed and went. I told him that the children waited for him for eight years and that he didn’t have any more excuse not to be their father. I can only wish him well, longer life in very, very sturdy and sterling health. I continue to pray that his dream of an egalitarian society in this country and this state come true. Happy Birthday, Asiwaju.