A traverse through landmarks in the Savannah
The Makurdi I saw was not the Makurdi I have known all these years. Perhaps, I was looking at it with the eyes of a journalist—those inquisitive, snooping, questioning eyes—always looking for something new, wacky and extraordinary. I caught up with a team at NNPC Mega station along Aliade road. As at the time […]
The Makurdi I saw was not the Makurdi I have known all these years. Perhaps, I was looking at it with the eyes of a journalist—those inquisitive, snooping, questioning eyes—always looking for something new, wacky and extraordinary.
I caught up with a team at NNPC Mega station along Aliade road. As at the time I boarded the white and blue coaster bus, I could not tell who were journalists and those who were not.
As we sped past clusters of thatched huts villages along the Makurdi-Aliade road on our way to Oturkpo as part of Zone C senatorial district inspection of projects. As we approached Aliade, a colleague asked: “How many hours from Makurdi to Oturkpo?” “Two hours plus. As you can see, the road is not good and it’s worse farther on,” I replied knowingly. The ride to Oturkpo, from Aliade to Taraku, all the way to Oturkpo was rough as the bus bumped in pot holes and jolted passengers. Reading the reactions of some passengers who contorted their faces, our guide, the Secretary to State Government (SSG) Dr Audu Achigili hastily said: “This is a federal government road. We are trying to take care of our roads.”
After Taraku, it started raining and the going became not only rough but slippery. At a point, a lorry filled to the brim with load ran into a ditch that spread across the road and was falling over as our bus bumped passed by. Almost everybody scary-eyed stared at the lorry falling over, perhaps afraid that it will crush us under its weight.
Relief came when we branched off on a secondary road which the SSG said was Oturkpo-Igumale road. According to him, it was a 53 kilometre road with about five kilometers already asphalted. The tarred section ended and we drove on the brown earthed section to a point and we headed for Otobi. We passed tranquil villages screened by towering palm trees and stirred by chattering birds. Children ran to the road to have a glimpse of the strange visitors. Then we reached Otobi, a small town of brown earthed houses with rusted roofs and a couple of new houses. At least, the town could boast of government presence with electricity and drinkable water. We went straight to Otobi water supply project.
As Otobi is a suburb of Oturpo, it did not take time to reach and drive through the ancient, traditional town of the Idoma. By the time we passed through Ugbokolo, stopped over and inspected a primary health care facility at Ogbadibo and navigated around Okpokwu, dusk was gathering. The rural roads under construction through the hinterlands of Ogbadibo to Okpokwu were muddy and sticky and our bus slipped from left to right with the apprehension of passengers that we might slip and crash.
The following morning, we went straight to National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) permanent orientation camp at Wannune, Tarka local government. The camp sat on a brown hill, promising to look beautiful when finished. Asked why so much money would be spent on a scheme that was basically a federal scheme, he answered: “Investment in the youth is a huge one because we get cheap manpower from the corps members to teach in schools and work in other sectors.”
Adjacent to the camp, we went inside a tomato and mango processing plant that was built by the former administration but as the SSG said, the machineries that were installed were obsolete and of poor quality and the present government decided to overhaul the machineries at the contract sum of N400 million. “When the project is completed, a South African businessman will be brought to run the company so that civil servants will not run it down,” Achigili said.
We took a detour to Gboko from Wannune through Buruku, one of the rural local governments of the state in Zone B senatorial district. We passed rural folks with backs bent on their farms and busted out at Yandev. Within few minutes, we were at Lessel, a village renowned for orange production.
At Ge, a village some few kilometers southwest of Lessel we took the road to Ikyobo that was under construction. Neat rows of citrus farms lined the sides of the road, with parrots and sparrows chattering happily on their green boughs. Ayo Andrews, a member of the team exclaimed that oranges from this part of the country will be very sweet.
The sun had crossed the Katsina Ala River, and everybody was hungry, when we reached Katsina Ala. We had late lunch at local restaurants at the head of the bridge and headed for Anyiin, the governor’s village. We returned from Anyiin at about 1 am that Saturday.
The real excitement came when we arrived Plateau late that evening. The cool evening breeze caressed our stressed bodies and created calmness in and around us. The Jos Hill Station where we were lodged was surrounded by rocks dotted here and there.
But we actually took in the beauty of the old-tin-city the next three days we went round to inspect projects. First, we were enthralled by the Deputy Governor’s House, an old, but magnificent architectural masterpiece that was renovated at the sum of N178 million. The mansion sat snuggled up at the bosom of a rock and overlooked the sprawling city.
Laminga Dam proved to be another attractive spot. The still, glinting water under the bright Sunday afternoon sun, bordered on the northeastern side with a thick, green forest, invaded my imagination. I lost interest in what we were doing began to daydream of undressing and slipping under the caressing coolness of the water.
Our guide for the tour, Engineer Sunday Hyat, Director Civil Engineering, Ministry of Works and Transport told us that the forest at the edge of the dam is called Amurum forest, an internationally recognized Important Bird Area (IBA) with at least 250 species of birds. “The forest is within four kilimetres of the Laminga Dam and the Laminga Golf Course,” he enthused.
Thereafter, we sped through a 39km new road being constructed at the cost of N2.4 billion. We were told it is a bye pass linking Mararaba Jema’a and Bauchi Road to ease traffic congestion in the city centre. We passed the governor’s house at Du, surrounded by sparse grasses and shrubs with outcrops of rocks. “Governor Jang certainly knows how to live a quiet life.”
As we proceeded to see town roads in Barkin Ladi, we saw red-earthed mounds embanking pools of stagnant water. “These are vestiges of tin mining activities around Jos Plateau which started around 16th Century. The pools of water you see are the holes where tin was dug up. The water is poisonous and children are not allowed to swim inside.” We were told.
On Monday morning, we left for Shendam. Moving from Panyam to outskirts of Pankshin, we snaked through misty hills with deep valleys on either side of the crooked road to Chip, an ancient village that is divided by a gully of a stream, embanked on either sides with outcrops of rocks and shrubs. It would have been a scary ride but for the tranquility of the natural environment, we were rather enchanted.
We stopped over briefly and watched in amazement a bridge being constructed at Jibam to link up the separated sections of the Chip chiefdom—a deep valley running down the heart of the village and throwing a community apart—with eastern and western embankments of rocks and charming undergrowth. “This is a very old community that has been divided by this valley. The chief’s palace is on the other side and until this bridge is completed, he will be secluded from the rest of his subjects.” Hyat said.
From Dokan Tofa to Shendam we ran across flourishing rice fields. Hence, the terrain changed and as we reached Lantang, the midday sun shimmered and the weather became inclement. We ate lunch in traditional huts. The open huts were neat and homely and the hospitality of the local people appeared more satisfying than the food itself. As we moved on to Wase, we saw vast farmlands of maize and rice lining either sides of the road. As we approached the edges of the old town with cluttered mud houses and narrow, congested streets, we made out of the skyline a slender, grey outlines of a rock girded at the base with rich green vegetation, emerging gracefully like a beautiful bride about to be presented to the groom.
“This is Wase rock, an insel burg rock formation, an interesting area for mountaineering and one of our tourist spots. It is 1,800 feet above sea level. According to available records, it is one out of the five of its kind in the world, and it is a breeding place for the Rosy White Pelican birds in Africa. It was established as Wase Rock Game Reserve in 1972, covering an area of 231 acres with a resort to cater for the needs of tourists,” our guide explained.
On the third day of our tour, what tickled our imaginations was the Panyam Fish Farm. The farm which was established since 1952, According to Fyadung Deshi, the Farm Manager, occupies 120 hectres of land with 42 pounds, over grown with bushes. The adjoining rocks at the eastern flank of the farm, sloping down to the low plains, and the glistening water of the ponds, shaded by tall grasses, provided an elixir from the harsh afternoon sun.
We later found our way back to Jos and we were never so lucky to visit other attractive sites again. We only heard and read of places like Pandam Wildlife Park, Riyom Rocks, Assop Falls, Shere Hills, Jos Wildlife Park and the others. So we left Jos that Wednesday afternoon much happier than we came in the previous Saturday, with images of wonderful, serene landscapes and hospitable, quiet folks, only ruffled by persistent inter-religious crisis.
The following Sunday, we set out for Ilorin, Kwara State, in continuation of the peer review tour. We spent about two hours on the narrow but congested Abuja-Lokoja road and crossed the Niger-Benue confluence just as the sun started its elegant climb over the horizon. We passed the rocky, roadside town of Okenne and took a detour through Ekiti to Ilorin. Oye, where Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) did a hatchet job to return Segun Oni to power lay on our way. As we passed the ancient town of rusted roofs and crumbling red earthed bricks, I could see in my mind’s eye, thugs snatching ballot boxes and the attendant bloodletting.
The vegetation transited from lush grassland to forest, with thick undergrowth and layers of trees towering over others, as we left Kogi behind. We bumped our way through the pothole filled road and arrived Ilorin in the evening. It was a weary journey and much drearier than we had anticipated.
The following morning, Ilorin was agog with preparations to host President Umaru Musa who was going there to commission the Ganmo Power project. So we couldn’t go out for inspection that day. The following morning we went to Shonga. It was the first time some of us were seeing a real farm house and sprawling farmlands on commercial scales.
First, we were conducted round Valentine Chicken Enterprises, which housed a feed mill that when production starts would produce 10,000 bags a day. Adjacent was a modern abattoir that when completed would dress 5,000 chickens a day. Mr. Peter Crouch, a Zimbabwean farmer and a partner in the enterprise, who came to Shonga since 2003, said one of the biggest challenges they were facing is the importation of machinery and equipment, as excise duty is very high in Nigeria, about 27 percent. He said if not for such hitches and some funding challenges, the mill and abattoir would have taken off by now.
Also, Mr. Hunter Coetzee, a co-director in the enterprise lamented the lack of research into commercial agriculture in Nigeria, saying that varieties of crops like soya beans available in Nigeria are not of high yield compared to the ones in other parts of the world. He said too much attention has been given into researching cassava to the detriment of other crops.
Then we drove past expansive green fields of maize and soya beans, dancing to the gentle breeze under the bright midday sun to the farm house. Screened by a savannah forest, the modest bungalow with neatly mowed lawns evoked a picture of a rustic, peaceful farm life. A big warehouse stood just opposite the bungalow in a clearing, and the poultry house just wide by the left. Inside the poultry house we saw the latest technology in poultry farming. The house had automated feeders for the 25,000 broilers and bio-controlled temperature machines. The whole place was sparkling clean, and odourless, unlike the acrid smelling poultry houses that one would usually find around.
There was also the dairy syndicate which was another exciting adventure. At the milking parlour where about 780 cows, New Jersey breed, were milked, cow dung assailed our noses. Yet, we were enveloped by the tranquility of the country life of lowing cows, of chirping birds, of green trees and bushes, and of quiet folks. We were told the New Jersey breed produces 15—16 litres a day as against the three litres per day produced by the local Fulani cow.
The pastoral world of Shonga farms would only live in our memories as we left for Minna, Niger State, the following morning. We cast curious glances at the old, rusty hillocky town of Jebba as we crossed the swollen Niger River. The rough, long journey through the savannah ended that day at dusk when we arrived Minna. When we were taken to lodgings, the image that flooded my mind was Shiroro Dam. I remembered passing a signpost showing the way to Kainji Dam and National Park, and the longing to go there. I earnestly longed to visit these power sites but our tour of the state never took us there.
What we saw in Niger was not a wonder of nature or man’s artistry, but a wonder created by history. The Zungeru Colonial Cemetery, now Lord Lugard Amalgamated Park, north-west of the ancient railway town of Zungeru held us spell bound. Perched on elevated ground, it had no beauty to appeal to us. But the eerie atmosphere of a graveyard, the dates marked on the gravestones and the solemn, brief history of the cemetery by our guide, evoked eye-catching scenes in our minds that only history could ever conjure.
Our guide, Muhammad Jibril, an assistant chief education officer in Wushishi local government told us that the colonial cenotaph was a legacy of the Federal Ministry of Defence but that the state government was making efforts to turn the place into a major tourist spot. According to him, colonial masters who died while serving in Nigeria were buried there. And Africans who resisted colonization were torture to death in a place called Gidan Kwalba, and buried there.
“But this graveyard until 1920 was exclusively for the burial of Europeans. Africans were buried on a different ground and it was after most of the colonial masters had left that Africans were buried here. But it was mostly missionaries, and as you can see, the inscriptions on the graves indicate that most of the graves with European names predates 1920 while those with African names are not beyond 1920,” he said.
It was here that some of us got to know that the first headquarters of Nigeria was actually Zungeru and not Lagos as we were taught in schools. Mr Okauru exclaimed: “There is a lot of history to be preserved here. It is rather amazing that we learn more about this country in British Museum.”
We saw Mungo Park’s tomb in a photograph but we didn’t have the opportunity to go there. We also saw Juju Rock and Gurara Falls in a booklet, as enticing as they appeared we did not have the time to go there. As we exited Niger, we passed by Zuma Rock, a domed, giant rock structure that had an equally magnificent building by the side. The building, according to myth, was a five star hotel that was abandoned because it was ghost infested. That ghosts used to torment guests at night.
When we arrived Lokoja that Sunday afternoon from Abuja, we were first taken in by the picturesque layout of the confluence town. Though we didn’t see the confluence itself, the interlocking rocks fortifying the northwestern side of the town and the river, flowing from northeastern course down south was a breathtaking sight.
Again, man proved to be in competition with God on creativity. Snuggled on the brink of a hill, the Lokoja International market looked stunning. The red roofed lock-up shops with wide tarred streets and a spacious parking lot had the facilities of a modern market—police station, cyber café, three banking halls, abattoir, fire service station and observation posts, and a clinic. The market also has a traditional African open market square, though roofed, with concrete slabs for local sellers to display their wares on after buying ticket for the number of days they will be selling.
On our last day of touring Kogi, we passed the ruins at Ajaokuta Steel Complex on our way to Kogi State University. Lots and lots of concrete buildings laid waste around the rocky, thick vegetation area. As we crossed the Niger, we saw further up north, glistening rails on the rail bridge reflecting on the silver river. With melancholy, I reminisced how so many beautiful sites have been left to rot away.
Later that day, we travelled to Lafia through Abaji-Nasarawa Toto-Keffi. We wound our way through sleepy villages, noisy towns, verdant grassland and interspersed rocks and reached Lafia at night. Lafia by all standards has plain looks, but you cannot say the same of Ginda B. village and Keana village.
It was a rainy day. Dusk was gathering and blue and grey clouds hovered over us as we hurried to Ginda B to inspect a primary health facility. We crossed a valley and ascended an elevation, 550 metres above sea level. There, we had a panoramic view of verdure vegetation lined by flickers of ember rays of the setting sun. At the back of the village, an alluring rock was stretching to kiss the sky. The villagers scampered about, beaming from ear to ear as they welcomed their august visitors. Goats bleated here, cocks cackled there, crickets chirped down the valley and smoke of cooking dinner coming out of the thatched huts overwhelmed us. Dr. Olu Oluwayewo, one of the policy consultants with NGF on the tour exclaimed: “I am in love with this village. I hope to come back here some day.”
The following morning, we went to Keana salt village. After the pitches filled road rattled our buttocks and frayed our nerves, the serene village soothed our nerves. It was a village of native women scooping salt water from the pools of water around the lowland and distilling it into salt in their low-roof thatched huts. Chipped earthen pots were scattered everywhere and we were made to understand that they were used for boiling the salt water and the salt grains is also store in some of the pots. According to Ibrahim Usede, a local teenager, the salt water is scooped around March-April or May when rain water had not filled the pools, and stored in earthen pots until it is finally distilled into salt.
But the team guide for the tour from the government of Nasarawa State, Dr Ari Maikano, collaborated by the Permanent Secretary, Ministry of Science and Technology, Mr Echoda Anfofun, said the government is about taking over the processing of the salt. They disclosed that the government is in the process of registering an industry for the production of the salt at Corporate Affairs Commission. They said advanced technology needed to be put in place to avoid the environmental pollution caused by the use of firewood in boiling the salt water. “Considering that we want to harness our eco-tourism potential, the use of firewood in the salt production is no longer ideal,” Maikano said.
Mr. Okauru had talked about comparative advantage of states, and throughout the peer review tour, it was clear that the North Central, though does not have oil, the state governments can augment their revenues by boosting agriculture and tourism. The rich, expansive savannah grassland and the combination of natural and man-made attraction areas can be turned into a goldmine.