Agbroko: Nigeria Be Not Proud
It has to be one of the most disastrous stories that ever heralded the Christmas and the New

Comfort Obi

Year. My immediate reaction was confusion. Then I began to scream. And as I read, and re-read Godwin Agbroko’s last write-up in his popular bi-weekly column, The Nation, on the back page of ThisDay, my anger boiled over. I began to curse our fate. And I began to ask questions. One of them: Which country sits back and watches some of its best minds killed so cheaply?
In the year gone by, I have lost count of the number of prominent, and not-so-prominent Nigerians, who were killed either carelessly, or in a most gruesome manner. The month of December certainly took the cake. Instead of celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ, we celebrated death. It was like the year wanted to end in a fury. It did. It wanted to expose Nigeria as one of the most insecure countries in the world. It did. Nigeria is competing with Iraq and Afghanistan, almost.
The murder of Godwin Agbroko, the Chair of the Editorial Board of ThisDay, on December 22, tugs at my heart. Two days before he was murdered, Agbroko and I had talked, and thrown banters at each other. We were together at the end-of-year dinner party for Media Executives by the Niger Delta Development Commission, NDDC, at the Sheraton Hotel, Ikeja, Lagos. He walked in, serious-faced, but looking boyish in his brocade-made caftan. When he got to where I was, he beamed a smile, I stood up, we hugged each other, and he gave me a peck on both cheeks. For a couple of minutes, we talked.
Agbroko was my friend. He was usually the one who called me, especially on Mondays, after reading this page to commend, or criticise me. One day, he told me, “My sister, one of the reasons I buy The Source is to read you. I don’t know how you do it, but there is a freshness to your writing. My daughter writes for ThisDay. I will ask her to see you." We never met until his murder. When on Sunday, December 24, I read her column in ThisDay, I broke down in tears. There she was, writing about her joys at Christmas, and telling us how much she loved her family, not knowing that her father would not even read that column, that he would be in the mortuary; that her joy would turn to mourning.
Nothing I have read in the newspapers about his murder makes meaning to me. Agbroko left the office for home on that cursed day at about 9.30 p.m. As he descended a bridge near the popular Daleko market, he was shot and killed by yet-to-be arrested "armed robbers." We are told that about two policemen were also shot and killed around the same spot by the same gang. True? Like Agbroko’s family, I think the armed robbery story is false. If policemen were killed around the same area, then we must take it as a cover-up. I believe Agbroko’s case was a high profile murder. And there are enough reasons to believe that.
When his body was discovered by some ThisDay staff who were in an office bus going home for the day, Agbroko was still on the driver’s seat. He was still strapping his seat belt. His car lights were still on. Music was still blaring from his car stereo. His car’s airconditioner was still on. Nothing was removed from his car. Not his mobile phones, not his money, nothing. So, what kind of armed robbers were these?
Agbroko was brilliant. He had a fertile brain. He wrote well. In his columns, he called a spade a spade. In the line of duty, he brooked no nonsense. He was a patriotic Nigerian, striving to better the lot of his much raped nation. He was a decent guy who loved his wife and children. He was one of the lights of Nigerian journalism, one who had mentored many journalists. Several younger journalists looked up to him. He had had difficult times on his job, especially when he was with The Week. He had been through detention and the lot. Yet, he didn’t give up. Agbroko had a can-do attitude. He was resolute in his beliefs. He had a vision of a better Nigeria – a vision he espoused in his back-page column in ThisDay. He was, above all else, harmless.
The most agonising thing is that uptill now, the police have come up with nothing. They want us to believe it was an armed robbery case. We will not. They have not even visited Agbroko’s office. Instead, they are, excuse this cliché, "adding insult to injury”. They are asking ThisDay to send them copies of Agbroko’s recent write-ups! So, what kind of investigation is that? Why won’t they even go there to collect the write-ups by themselves? We are living in strange times. And this is sad. In the 21st century, our lives in Nigeria are worth nothing. Anything can happen. Anybody can get killed. And life goes on as usual. This cheapness of lives has stripped Nigeria of its pride as a nation. Weep, Nigeria, weep. Be not proud!
… And ThisDay
For ThisDay as a corporate body, it is not just raining, it is pouring. Two weeks after the murder of Godwin Agbroko, the Chair of its Editorial Board, a mysterious fire engulfed its corporate headquarters in Lagos, razing its penthouse, which housed the chairman’s office amongst other important offices, and made nonsense of the lower floor, which has now been pulled down along with what remained of the Penthouse.
On a condolence visit to ThisDay, I was dumbfounded at the extent of the destruction. So you ask: Where were the fire service people when such destruction was being wrought on ThisDay? Yes, they came, indeed, with Five fire trucks, but they were, as usual, useless. They neither had water, nor adequate equipment. They couldn't put out the fire. It took the Fire Service people from Tin Can Island Port to put it out five minutes after they arrived. But it was too late. Everything was already gone. If Nigeria had a functional fire service department, ThisDay would have been saved the agony of this tragedy. Each time there is a fire outbreak, we are faced with the same story.
To tell the management and staff of ThisDay to take heart isn’t quite it. All I can say is: "You are in God’s hands. He will take care of you."