Nigeria could be greater than America – Lindsay Barrett

Carlton Lindsay Barrett, a Jamaican-Nigerian who worked in Europe and West Africa in the media and academia, came to Nigeria in the late 1960s. He naturalised and has contributed significantly to the cultural life of the country as a poet and journalist. He participated in the Festival of Arts and Culture (FESTAC) 1977, and has […]

Carlton Lindsay Barrett, a Jamaican-Nigerian who worked in Europe and West Africa in the media and academia, came to Nigeria in the late 1960s. He naturalised and has contributed significantly to the cultural life of the country as a poet and journalist. He participated in the Festival of Arts and Culture (FESTAC) 1977, and has worked in various media and public relations jobs in the country.

 

I would like to take you back to Jamaica: tell us how you left it and came to Nigeria.

It is a very simple story. When I was as young as five years old, I went to live with my grandparents because my father, who was an agriculturist, was going to another part of the Caribbean on an assignment and my mother died in childbirth, having me. He didn’t have my mother to leave me with, so he left me with my grandparents.

My grandfather was a remarkable influence on me because very early in life he told me that we Jamaicans, especially Jamaicans of African descent, should always strive to remember our African heritage. He told me that we should regard ourselves as Africans first, not Jamaicans. And I learnt that very early in my life. So, all my adolescence in Jamaica, I was closely attracted to the African aspects of Jamaica’s culture, the Rastafarianism. Rastafarians are people who dream always of their African roots and I was attracted to their thoughts. I was also deeply influenced by the thoughts of the great Marcus Garvey, who said that we are Africans first and Jamaicans second.

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But most importantly, probably because I grew up without my mother, I had always felt that we should keep close attachment to our roots, whatever roots we felt attracted to. And that has been the direction of my life.

 

How much schooling did you do in Jamaica?

I only did up to what is today called School Certificate – secondary school – but after I left secondary school, I did professional training at both the biggest Jamaican newspaper called the Daily Gleaner then. Today, it is called the Jamaica Gleaner. I also did professional training in broadcasting for two years in the Jamaica Broadcasting Company.

When I exiled myself from Jamaica at the age of 20, I did my training in London at the British Broadcasting Company (BBC) and an institution called the Transcription Centre. I did professional broadcasting for about three years before I came to Nigeria.

 

Did you work in the media in Jamaica at all?

I was a reporter in the Daily Gleaner and The Star. I was a very popular columnist writing on entertainment and the music business.

I spent two and a half or three years doing that. I did a lot of work for which I am still remembered. I still get letters from people who are now in their 80s like myself, who remember things I wrote 40 to 50 years ago.

 

So, what motivated what you call exile, to the UK, as a young man?

When I left Jamaica, I had intended to come to Africa. My major purpose for travelling from my home was to get to know Africa. A lot of us were attracted to the ideas of Zik and Nkrumah, who we saw as our leaders. We wished that other leaders would be like them.

 

How was your stay in London? Was it fulfilling?

Yes; I have always been a freelancer. And very early in my professional career, I decided that I would not follow academic training as much as professional training. And I am still a believer in the apprenticeship system, where I was brought up. To be a reporter in the Daily Cleaner, you had to go through apprenticeship.

When I took the school Certificate Examination I got a distinction in English, a credit in Geography or something, but when I went for training at the Daily Cleaner, they told me that my pass in the School Certificate examination was not high enough because I got a Grade Three.

But when I brought the results of my subjects, the editor of the paper looked at it and asked: “How did you get a distinction in English and a Grade Three? That means you were good in nothing else, only in English; then you definitely should work for us.”

So, I was given a reporter’s beat almost as soon as I entered the paper, which was unusual because the system for training in the Cleaner had been that if you came in and wanted to be a reporter, they would start you in the printing press to learn about producing a paper before you would think you could write. But in my case, they said I should start since I could write.

 

Did you really find England worthwhile although it was a stopgap?

It was very eye-opening for me. For one, I couldn’t get a job, so I tried to get a job in Fleet Street. In those days, for racial and other reasons, it was very difficult. And because I had been given professional training in Jamaica, some of the papers, like the Melody Maker and a few smaller papers told me that they would take work from me on a freelance basis. So I started writing professionally in the freelance world.

I worked for three newspapers. One was a magazine called Daylight, then there was another magazine called Flamingo, which was run by West Indians. And there was the West Indian Gazette and a few other smaller papers.

But where I got most of my training and a lot of experience was in music journals, such as Melody Maker. I love the music of jazz; I used to write about jazz a lot, so I became well known between 1962 and 1964 in Britain for covering jazz festivals and concerts.

 

When did you get the opportunity to come to Africa; and which place did you land?

I went to live in Paris in 1963. My very first African experience was meeting a Nigerian from Katsina, whose name was Aminu Abdullahi. We were both jazz buffs and we met at a very popular club in London.

 

This was 1963 or 1962?

It was in 1962 and we became closer than brothers. He opened my eyes about Nigeria, told me a lot about his home. At one point, we were living in the same block of flats and were virtually living in each other’s home. Aminu told me a lot about Nigeria.

He was the one who helped me get a job in a company called the Transcription Centre, which used to produce radio programmes for Africa. I used to do book reviews and concert reviews for the Transcription Centre.

I think there was a programme called Africa Abroad or something like that, for which I used to contribute. The Transcription Centre sent programmes to African countries, and that was my first consciousness of living and working with Africans.

When I finally came to Africa in 1966, I discovered that a lot of people knew my name because they had heard my programmes.

 

Which part of Africa did you come to first?

I first landed in Dakar for the first FESTAC 66. I was supposed to go back to Paris, but I didn’t. I decided that since I had come to Africa, I wanted to go to Ghana, but by the time the festival ended, Nkrumah had been overthrown and I didn’t like the idea of a military government at all.

I went to Sierra Leone because I had friends there, including the vice chancellor of what was the new University of Sierra Leone. I went and stayed with him.

I don’t really remember how long I stayed, a month or two, but while I was there, an English historian, Michael Crowder, the man who wrote a book about Nigeria, was head of the extramural department at the university. And I had developed an interest in telling African tales, re-narrating African folktales on radio. I went to him to ask if they were interested in supporting such a programme but he told me they were not interested. What he wanted us to do was to collect as many of the old tales of Sierra Leone as we could.

So he gave me a job as a consultant to do that and I travelled up country and became very interested in the culture of Sierra Leone. I was preparing this, but because I didn’t have a job as such, other than the little one he gave me, which wasn’t paying enough, I decided that I would start writing for the West Africa Magazine because before I left Europe I had spoken to one of their editors, whose name was Kay Whiteman.

 So I started writing a few commentaries on the politics of Sierra Leone. And when some of the politicians saw the number of things I wrote, they didn’t like them because I was a bit critical of things I saw going wrong at that time.

One day, my host, Professor Nicole told me to be careful because it was a small country and I would not get away with so many things. He said Nigeria was a very big and welcoming country, very hospitable and exciting. He advised me to visit Nigeria if I had the opportunity.

 

Tell us about the beginning of your stay in Nigeria.

Well, I was unfortunate to have gone to Ibadan to stay just when the second coup happened in July 1966. I wrote about the coup from my point of view. The coup brought a lot of reports in the British press. The mood in the British press was that there had been a Muslim coup against the Christian South and I found that very wrong. Although I was new, it seemed very wrong.

I went to meet officers of the Nigerian Army to ask them what the coup was about and the person I met said they did not want to be politicians but(were) being forced into the politics of things.

 

Was that Colonel Martin Adamu?

Yes. He said he was unhappy about what happened but they couldn’t avoid it. They, however, hoped to return the country to proper political rule as soon as possible. So I liked the idea of the government because I saw it as a corrective act. That was the start of my long stay.

 

Since you didn’t have any particular job to do; did you just continue as a freelancer?

No. I continued writing regularly, almost every week, on something about Nigeria, and as a result, in 1967 when it looked like they were really heading for a civil war, Ukpabi Asika, who was a member of our chat group in Ibadan, and Essien Udom, actually persuaded me to stay longer in Nigeria.

MD Yusuf, who Aminu Abdullahi, who was still in London sent me to, directed me to an immigration officer in Ibadan with a letter and told the man to give me an extended visa stay, stating that I was under his protection.

At that time, I didn’t realise who MD Yusuf was and I didn’t see what was in the letter. MD showed me a copy of the letter many years later – the first letter he wrote taking charge of me.

 

Was he the commissioner of police at that time?

No; he was the head of the e-department.

 

Intelligence?

The predecessor of the State Security Service (SSS). He was Aminu’s cousin and I didn’t know.

 

Asika became an administrator; did you get involved in his government?

Yes; I was appointed the director of information in the war zone by the Federal Ministry of Information to work with Asika. I worked to the end of the war.

 

As a foreigner, how was your experience of the war?

It was very enlightening. I don’t know what is happening nowadays; I see a lot of things being said, but the truth is that the civil war came almost by accident.

I think the young men in the army were unlucky because it was personal disenchantment that seemed to represent the country at that time.

 

Are you saying the coup was fueled by personal ambition rather than patriotic zeal?

I think the first coup that happened in January 1966 was an error of judgement by very patriotic but unfortunately naive young men. It has been forgotten that the coup did not succeed, but the military found that the political system had been devastated by the killing of the real leaders of the country. Ironsi unfortunately inherited a government put in place in an attempt to correct an action by the coup makers.The civil war was as a result of these errors; it should never have happened. It is very sad.

 

Let’s talk about the details of your involvement in the public enlightenment and journalism during the civil war, when you met many of the leading Nigerian military men.

The truth is that it was a lesson for me; it was the earliest stage of the war. I got to Enugu almost immediately after it was captured in September or October 1967, I don’t quite remember.

I learned so much about the intellectual engagement of the military. I found that Nigerian military officers were genuine patriots. Most of the young men I met – people like the then Lieutenant-Colonel Danjuma, Major Shelleng, Major Babangida, Major Vatsa and so on – became very close personal friends.

What struck me was that my idea of the military was very wrong – they were devoted patriots. There was a remarkable thing I wrote about in West Africa at the time – the fact that I thought the civil war had ended in the first few weeks. Within a 10-day period, Danjuma had captured the capital of the secessionist area and we thought the war was over, but it lasted for another 30 months.

What I found was that the Nigerian officers I met had a national vision for the country. The Nigerian military was a national institution. And I don’t think the misled Nigerian officers who had gone to the other side were actually comfortable with their own behaviour.  I don’t call them rebels.

I have always said the truth is that the loss of the secessionist side was predictable because they had been trained to be Nigerian officers. They had gone against their true training. That was a feeling I had till the end of the war.

 

Did you ever have a chance to meet Ojukwu?

I met him many years after the war and interviewed him.

 

Did he regret his action?  

I will never forget him telling me that at independence in 1960 he was more than 100 per cent a Nigerian. I wish I had not lost the tape.

 

What about Danjuma, another major figure whose biography you wrote?

I was strongly influenced by his discipline and realism in war. He was a very comfortable person to be with, although he had the most uncomfortable assignment.

As 2IC of the 1st Division, his troops were always being attacked, but he was always cool. He was also the most reasonable leader of soldiers because he seemed always to be ready to endure what the followers, the rank and file, were. He was a commander in the trenches, and that impressed me.

Let me tell you how I wrote the biography. Many years after, I remember reading somewhere that Danjuma had said nothing would keep him in government beyond when they left, that he wasn’t interested, and that he felt all those who had high political office should leave service. I thought it was strange; and it reminded me of my younger days when I didn’t like the military at all. In the early days of my life, I was very anti-military.

It was my experience during the civil war that made me understand the more human side of the military, and my observation of General Gowon, who I found to be the most humane military leader one could imagine. So, because of this feeling in my mind, I was always observing from a distance.

When General Danjuma decided to leave office, I was trying to write an article. I had been commissioned by the New Breed, a new magazine set up by a Nigerian. They had commissioned me to do an article about General Danjuma.

My then very good friend, the late Brigadier Mamman Vatsa, was Danjuma’s military assistant when he was Chief of Army Staff.

I went to him to say that I wanted to write an article at the end of the government about General Danjuma. I had written some things of my impressions and had done some research and needed them to correct some of my viewpoints.

Vatsa asked: “Why are you just writing an article, why not write a book? The man has been responsible for a lot of our careers and so on, so we will give you all the information.”

I had already written my article, so what they gave me was just selected information about his early days in the military school etc.

I always tell people that as far as I am concerned, it was not a very good book. It was just a book to tell people in Nigeria a little more about him and how he had influenced the military.

But Danjuma became a very rich man involved in the politics of Nigeria in many ways. Were you surprised at his later career?

Well, I see him as a man who set out with direct focus. He is always a very focused person. Once you know him, you will find that he is not frivolous. So, I know that when he decided to go into business, he took it the same way he had taken his military profession. So I am not surprised that he was very successful in commerce.

I don’t know much about it, but what I know is that he has been a remarkable philanthropist. But he doesn’t talk about it. He hardly ever says anything.

Recently, I did some research and discovered that what he has done as a philanthropist is remarkable, including the number of hospitals he has built. I think he decided to turn his back entirely on his previous career.

But I was surprised when he became the minister of defence. However, when you get to know the military, you discover that they are very much intertwined.

 

I would like you to talk about two other personalities you mentioned quite often, such as Aminu Abdullahi. Many younger Nigerians probably wouldn’t remember him. He came back, became an editor of New Nigeria and died in a fire incident in Lagos.

Aminu was a remarkable human being. When I met him in London, he was one of the most famous broadcasters. He was always on the BBC doing jazz programmes. He was an expert on Afro-American literature and jazz; and that’s what he concentrated on.

 

Did you get involved with him when he came back from Nigeria? Were you surprised that he came back and became an editor?

We were very close friends. He came to visit me in Enugu during the civil war. When he came to Nigeria, he came straight to the warfront to see me. We remained very close friends. In fact, the day he died, he was waiting on me. I was supposed to have met him.

 

Do you think it was an accident?

It was an accident. He didn’t know there was fire. He was on the top floor of NITEL building in Lagos.Our mutual friend, Talban Bauchi, Ibrahim Tahir, was minister. Aminu woke up and apparently heard the noise but didn’t realise that it was fire. He got in the lift and got trapped and died from smoke inhalation.

 

What of M.D Yusuf?

Yusuf was like my father; we were very close. He kept me and took care of me.

 

Did you get involved in Nigerian politics after you naturalised? At what point did you really become a Nigerian?

I have been a Nigerian since the 1990s when I was given discretionary documents.

 

In 1990?

In 1991 or 1992. It was IBB that actually gave me Nigerian citizenship. He wanted me to travel with him to Namibia for independence. He called me, and when I put in my Jamaican passport, he said, “You mean you are not yet a Nigerian?” I said I had been waiting for him. So he ordered that I be given citizenship. But anyhow, I don’t want to talk about that because it makes me think that I have not been a serious someone.

 

But you were part of the politics of that era; is that not correct?

I was not really part of it. But I commented a lot on politics from the position of giving advice as an observer. And I will remain an observer. I pray that Nigerians would become harmonious(with) one another.

Let me say what I think about Nigeria. I told you that my dream when I was in Europe was to be a Ghanaian because Nkrumah had created an ideology that included the global African and I wanted to be part of that movement. But when Nkrumah was overthrown by soldiers, I was sadly disappointed and I came to Nigeria because I thought I would find a similar movement. I didn’t find a similar movement but I found something even more interesting globally – that Nigeria is a country of such diversity. Maybe a year or two after I came, it began to occur to me that Nigeria was many countries.

After working in the East during the civil war and coming back, and then, later becoming very close to the people of the Niger Delta, I realised that the cultures in Nigeria were almost like different countries. But if all of them  could merge and work in harmony, it would be a greater country than America because that’s what America has been trying to be. Nigeria is the melting pot of Africa.

 

There’s something about you and the Niger Delta. Did you acquire that through marriage or what?

Yes; through marriage, but more than that. Many years ago, I wrote an article in the Sunday Times, which became very widely known because I was writing an advertising supplement for a gentleman who was a Federal Lands Officer. His name was Ranami Abah. He was also the vice chairman (South-South) of the National Party of Nigeria (NPN), Shehu Shagari’s party.

When I wanted to write the article, I found it very strange. This was an Ijaw or an Ogbia man who was the Federal Land Officer.

I asked how he left that far place and got to the top of the federal job. That was in 1971. He told me that his village was so far away that there was no road to the place. His village was next to the founding well that started Nigeria’s oil industry.

I asked how that was possible and he said he hadn’t been home for 27 years or so. Whenever he wanted to see his mother, he would send and they would bring her.

He gave me 20 pounds because I was writing the supplement. I told him that I wanted to know where he came because I didn’t know how to write about him and he was retiring from the federal government. I wanted to know the kind of person he was.

He said he would give me 20 pounds because I think that was the plane fare to Port Harcourt in those days. He gave me some money and said, “Try and see if you can go to Port Harcourt and take a boat to Brass on a Thursday, from where there’s a boat that will take you to your destination.” And that’s what I did.

I travelled to the Niger Delta, went to Brass and loved it. Brass looked like Jamaica. When I got there, everywhere looked like the Caribbean, and the people were very different from those I had met in Lagos. So I was very fascinated about the territory.

When I got back, I was writing occasionally for Sunday Times. I think Sam Amuka was the editor. I wrote an article with photographs of the places I had been to and how it was the beginning of a multi-billion dollar industry. I wrote the article, stating that it came from an area where there were no roads, but which was the source of enormous wealth for the country. I warned that if this was not corrected, it would be the beginning of a revolution in Nigeria.

So a lot of people got in touch with me. I will not forget Hope Harriman and other people who got in touch with me and said I was very right about what I wrote. And because of that, a lot of people in the Niger Delta movement have always remembered it and gotten in touch with me. I wrote several other things after that.

 

Did you get to live in the Niger Delta?

I have lived there for the last 20 years.

 

Where in particular?

Yenagoa. I have lived on and off. More than 30 years ago, I married somebody from Abonima, which is part of River State.

 

Your marriage really makes you a Nigerian; tell us about it.

I have been married three times.

 

To Nigerians?

To Nigerians. My first wife left me because I went to Europe and spent a long time before coming back. She probably thought I was not coming back. When I came back, I was very disappointed and sad and wished I had not done that. I was at fault. In my second marriage, we had disagreements. My third marriage has been wonderful and remarkable. We have been married for 25 or 26 years. I have lost my leg and can’t move around, but she takes care of me.

 

Were all these marriages from the Niger Delta where you found a home?

Yes; and Nigeria is the only home I have ever had. I left Jamaica when I was 20 years old and Nigeria is the only home I have ever really had.

When I left Jamaica, I made up my mind that I was going to settle in Africa. One good thing is that I found Nigeria; Nigeria didn’t find me. I have come to the conclusion that I can’t live anywhere else. I would like to visit Jamaica, but even my attitudes have been shaped by my experience in Nigeria.

 

Have you had a chance to visit Jamaica over the years?

Once. I visited my father in 1997 and in 1998 he died.

 

And since then you have not been to Jamaica?

No. And if I do, it will be to take my children to see how they like it.

 

Have you met another Jamaican-Nigerian called Dr Patrick Wilmott? He taught in the Ahmadu Bello University (ABU).

Dr Wilmott is my very close friend. We speak to each other on the phone. We were both associate editors of AfriScope magazine.

 

Given all the problems we have in Nigeria, do you think the country can find its potential?

Of course Nigeria can find its potentials. Unfortunately, many Nigerians who have gained power do not think about the country’s best interests; they only think about their  interests. We must try to advise them to change.

I have just read an incredible book, IBB’s biography and he states exactly the same thing.

The truth is that we have to work at nation-building because at independence we were not given a nation; we were given several nations. And unfortunately, in Nigeria, a lot of us fight for our personal nations rather than the national cause. But I think that is only to be expected. We must learn to overcome the personal and go after the national.

 

You wrote a little bit about Goodluck Jonathan, a Niger Delta person who became Nigeria’s president. What do you make of his tenure?

I think he did his best, but there were errors made in his organisation that were taken as being his own and it worked against his second term bid. I am afraid to say this because I may be misconstrued, but I believe the errors made by members of his team were visible and should have been treated as such and corrected.

Having come to power by such an unusual means, it might have been unusual if Goodluck had stepped down and handed power to one of the northerners who made it very plain that they were no longer backing him. Something interesting would have happened in Nigeria because he would have been entitled to a second term. We don’t know what would have happened in future, but it would have been very possible that he could have been given a second term later. I suggested it but it was considered too far-fetched.

You see, Nigeria is in the process of nation-building and nothing should be taken for granted.

 

Are you now retired and living in Abuja?

Yes.

 

How is your day-to-day life?

Well, I am not really retired; I am still looking for a job. I want somebody to give me a job to do a column as an old man from old age, but all the papers tell me: “We’ll publish you but we can’t pay you.”

But my novel, Song for Mumu, is being republished in Britain right now. And I am trying to establish a publishing house to publish a few things. Also, some of my children are rallying around, so I hope I would leave a legacy. I am at the age where you would know that the time is near, whether you like it or not. So I am just waiting.

 

You sound as if you retired but not tired; hence you still want to carry on, is that the case?

I want to carry on. I believe it is important, as long as you are around, to pass on the benefits of your experience to others. Ensure that you are passing something on, even till your last day.