Josef Omorotionmwan relives some tit-bits from the Second Republic National Assembly
At the inception of the National Assembly in the Second Republic in 1979, this writer was a CAT – not the m-e-w crying type, in onomatopoeia, though, but a Clerk-At-Table in the House of Representatives.
We, the CATs of both chambers, formed ourselves into a loose association for the purpose of entertaining ourselves with the strange happenings in our Houses. We met virtually every day.
The first item on our Order Paper was to x-ray the grammatical errors committed by each Presiding Officer in the course of the day’s proceedings. Here, the undisputed heavyweight champion of all time was the President of the Senate, Senator Joseph Wayas (1941- 2021). Wayas was a gentleman to the core. He blew the English grammar without respect to syntax and its numerous rules. He was most entertaining.
Wayas was a brave man. The issue of what official cars legislators should have, is almost as old as time. The Second Republic inherited the obnoxious policy of LOW PROFILE, which the military hypocritically instituted in its final days. Under this policy, government officials were only entitled to Peugeot 504 as official cars.
At that time, there were hundreds of various designs of Mercedez Benz cars in the pool. They could not be used because of the obnoxious policy. So bad was the policy that when there was a visiting Head of State or Government from a 4th world country, he could be driven in a Mercedez Benz car, while President Shehu Shagari, the Senate President and the Speaker of the House of Representatives would follow in their 504 cars. It was also clear that the military officers who instituted the policy lived in splendour with many Mercedez Benz and other utility cars to match the colour of whatever dress they wore on any occasion.
Wayas must have shown sufficient disgust to that policy internally, but nobody listened. He adopted the bravado style. One fateful afternoon, he went to the Official Car Park of the federal government with enough drivers and as he was pointing at cars, those drivers were under strict instructions to drive them to the National Assembly.
At the end of the exercise, all the Principal Officers of the National Assembly had Mercedez Benz cars as official cars. That was the end of that obnoxious policy – also for President Shagari.
[ENTER HON. PDA] “Thank you for your standing ovulation”. The National Assembly has come a long way – from a little above zero percent on the educational scale of its members in 1979, to the present assemblage of men and women who can stand tall before their peers anywhere in the world. We salute them.
We do not blame anyone. In 1979, the military said they were returning to the barracks after 13 long years of occupation of government. Who believed them, particularly against the backdrop of numerous previous promises that were broken. Not many.
Consequently, when the whistle blew in 1979, most of Nigeria’s best did not show interest. In the end, what we had was an assemblage of largely uneducated and uninformed men and women.
Hon. PDA was a very successful herdsman up in the Sahara in 1979. He contested the election to the House of Representatives and won. By allocation too, he became a committee chairman. He was full of himself.
PDA had a report to present to the House. He was sure that the report was a prize winner. At the end of the report, he wrote, “Mr. Speaker and Honourable Members, I thank you for your standing ovulation”.
THE OVERSEAS TRIPS. They were something else. When we arrived New York, we went on a shopping spree. Rather than take them to Fifth Avenue and other high brow areas, we headed for the Delancey/ 14th Street area, where they could buy a lot without spending a bundle.
The following morning, we dressed up to go for our first assignment. The Committee Chairman wore his new suit and left the price tags on. In fact, he knotted his tie inside-out, so as to expose the price tag properly.
All entreaties to get him to remove the price tags failed. He quipped rather glibly, “How else will they know that the things are expensive”.
These were the types of people we were charged with managing; and it was not easy. And these were not the types of things that would appear on a committee report. So, they remained buried and never seen. All we could do was to keep recommending the need for short orientation for future legislators. Unfortunately, what looks like an orientation for members after their inauguration, ends up as a mere jamboree that never addresses any of the seemingly small but very important issues.
“IS IT BECAUSE THEY NOW CALL ME SPEAKER”?
Chief Edwin Ume-Ezeoke (1935 – 2011) was thoroughly a gentleman in every respect. He was humble, perhaps to a fault. We were part of his delegation to a two-day conference of Speakers of the Commonwealth Parliamentary Association holding in Ottawa, Canada. From there, we were bound for Brazil.
Ume-Ezeoke had finished his assignment at the Ottawa conference on the first day and the rest of the conference was going to be thoroughly boring. He now decided that we should return to New York enroute Brazil.
On arrival in New York, I contacted the airline and tried to find out the probability of our leaving for Rio de Janeiro that evening. The airline told me that they had only Economy Class seats remaining, and there were no First-Class seats anymore. I asked them to forget the idea, as the Speaker could not fly Economy. I went back to the hotel and informed the Speaker what I had concluded with the airline.
His response was one of utter surprise: “Joe, is it because they now call me Speaker? A few years back, I was just an unsuccessful lawyer, living in one room at Ajegunle. Go and tell them to book me for Economy and let us travel tonight”.
I got back to the airline and did as commanded. Mr. Speaker was booked provisionally for the Economy Class, with a promise that if a chance occurred in the First Class, he would have the right of first refusal.
As soon as boarding was completed, there came an announcement over the loudspeaker: “Mr. Omo-ro-tionmwan, your attention is required at the cabin compartment…” I hurried there, and I was told that there was now a seat available for my man in the First Class. We quickly transferred Mr. Speaker to First Class. All is well that ends well.
That’s the way we were in the First Assembly. Ten Assemblies down the line, it might be difficult to imagine what a present-day Speaker would do in a similar situation.
Omorotionmwan writes from Canada
