By Bisi Lawrence
What is the promise of  Nigeria to Nigeria? In Chile, President Sebastian Pinera has declared that his country had fulfilled its promise to itself. He was in an ecstatic mood after the first miner emerged from the deep pit, some seven hundred metres under the ground, in which 33 of  them had been trapped for some sixty-eight days.

Trough the scary ordeal, Chileans, not only at home but also abroad, never lost hope. They worked relentlessly in the face of  fierce odds to keep their rendezvous with the fulfillment of  their hope. The last miner was hoisted into the waiting arms of  his family and the whole nation this weekend..

It is indeed a national achievement. The entire country rose to the formidable challenge together. Many other countries had their own wounds to lick. They were no more than amazed on-lookers.

There had been earthquakes from which several parts of  the world were still recovering; there were floods everywhere, even in Nigeria, “God’s favourite country”; someone referred to the phenomenon as it occurred this season as “a flood of floods”. There have been storms, and hurricanes, and monsoons everywhere.

Chile was a soul-gripping scream from afar. But Chile kept her promise to herself. It is a triumph of the indomitable will of  the human spirit — that will which fashions and facilitates a way.

Has Nigeria got the will to make a way for any of  her  promises to come true? Without  that, our promises to ourselves will end up in bomb blasts. In fact, that is probably what those who were promising to make this country “ungovernable” have in mind. They indeed seem to have the will, judging by what happened in Abuja on October 1. However, this country must ensure that they do not have their way.

These are times that demand decisive action but, as Pastor Ayo Oritsejafor  remarked recently, we are trammeled by our penchant for talking (not minding the fact that his name carries a plea for, or joy in, that facility.) But, seriously, the high cleric could not have said it better. We like to talk, and we tend to talk all the time, even in the face of a need for urgent action.

And so, see how the House of  Representatives took a well-deserved rest from their bout of strenuous talking — interspersed by a bout of kung  fu  now and then – to resume the backbreaking engagement of still talking. Somehow, they succeeded in restraining themselves for a period of no less than twelve days from the delight of just talking about what many people consider a tragic and shameful incident on the day of our fiftieth anniversary as a nation.

They then spitted out their disgust at what everybody did, a disgust that they manfully kept on the boil but under wraps, for twelve days. If  they had not been so concerned, or considered that the issue called for an urgent address, they might have waited even for a month. Of course, they devised no significant response other than to order an “enquiry”.

They probably meant an “investigation” which, as may be expected, was already rolling while they were still lolling  in the pleasurable circumstances of  their well-deserved vacation.

Some people might feel that the House could have convened within forty-eight hours after those bomb blasts on Independence Day, of all days. But the members took their time. It was at a period when this nation needed the firm grip of purposeful leadership, with all the systems working together. But they left it all to one man, and then had the nerve to share out part of the blame to him.

The promise of  their position to this nation is that they would be responsible. That is what we should expect from them. Their response to that gruesome incident was downright irresponsible.

Hoe many times, and for how long, has Nigeria been promising Nigeria that it deserves a free and fair election — and would have one? Pardon me — I should have added the word, “credible” — a free, and, fair, and credible election. We love words. We thrill to their sound, but  hardly give any regard to their meaning.

Nigeria has kept that promise of  good elections, but once. Other elections have been dogged by ridiculously prolonged and incredibly protracted lawsuits. The politicians will tell you that it is the fault of  the other man, but “this time, we must get it right” — while at the same time, planning the next move for  their favourite pastime of  rigging. Someone who has been through the mill not once but twice, and who therefore should know the score, blandly informed the nation sometime ago that a free, fair and credible election would never be the lot of  this nation.

We should reject that, but how do we? Through all this shoddy and unrealistic preparations, with the INDEPENDENT  National Electoral Commission so helplessly dependent on the whims and caprices of  the National Assembly, especially when it comes to prompt and timely funding? Or would  that be by wrestling even now with procedural issues in the law courts?

The promise is of “one man, one vote”.

But we are now held in the vicious grip of  the trap we set for ourselves. It was all so sweet when a section of  the nation was anointed as the source of  presidential nominee of  the largest political party. Now another factor has crept in, and the proceedings have turned sour. What is now the promise of  Nigeria to Nigeria for political succession?
There are too many questions already, and yet we are not done. The most important promise of a good future is in the upbringing of  succeeding generations. That is founded, in part, on the establishment of a sound educational system. The provision of  that desired objective has always been the promise to which Nigerians looked forward. It appeared to be on the verge of achievement not very long ago. Tertiary institutions sprang up everywhere. But it seemed the higher the number, the more difficult was the admission into them.

The introduction of  the JAMB admission system at first appeared to be equal to the task of  an orderly and impartial admission to the universities, which were then all officially under the purview of  the government.

But the insufficiencies that sprouted around its operations soon encouraged the introduction of  private universities into our educational system. One of them, the Babcock University, actually binds itself  to a promise.

The undergraduate is ushered into the institution with the definite pledge of  turning him, or her, out as a graduate on a specific date. I understand the institution keeps that promise. If  Babcock can keep its promise to Babcock, why can’t Nigeria do the same to her self ?

Now we find that institutions like that private universities are all the rage. They incur quite a bit of expense, but they still cost less than going through Ghanaian and South African or other foreign universities — not  to mention those of  the UK and the USA.

The University of  Lagos, to ease the problem of admission, has the Distant Learning Institute, DLI, which allows the student to by-pass the hazards of  JAMB. It is easy. First, you must obtain the form for admission, which costs twelve thousand naira.

Once you have the necessary papers in either WAEC or NECO, you may have to wait for no less than three years to get the certificate, though the results would be available. In the absence of  the certificates, you could work with the notification of  the results, if  they are favourable. But you would have to swear to an affidavit for the confirmation  of  the result; that would only cost  you three hundred naira. And speaking about affidavits, you also have to swear one about your age.

This is very important since no university wants to admit under-age students, and birth certificates simply won’t do. That is obviously an educational system that  totally disconnects itself  from the idea of  child prodigies. Be that as it may.

How far have we gone? Ah, yes, the age declaration hassle which, of course, costs only another paltry three hundred naira. Now armed with the two affidavits, (one for the confirmation of results and the other for the confirmation of  your age) you march boldly to the WAEC or NECO office and submit your papers for confirmation.

You have to pay another four thousand naira along the way, but how much is all that between friends? Frankly, I can’t remember other details, but I believe that from that point, you are home and dry. You spend a year and you are now an undergraduate. Hurray! And please, don’t knock it. It works — if you don’t mind all the rigmarole of  affidavits, and confirmation and the rest of it. But is that the best way to fulfill the promise of providing the best educational opportunities we owe to succeeding generations of Nigerians?

Professor Babs Fafunwa was my senior at the CMS Grammar School, Lagos. I entered the school on his own last year there. He was in Class VI, while I was in Prep 1, which actually was Primary III. He was really some seven years ahead of me. The system allowed the pupils of private schools — or  mission schools  — to proceed from the primary school to the secondary without any hiccup of entrance examinations and other hassles. But the pupils who were thus admitted were usually from Nursery Schools attached, or affiliated, to the secondary school.

So that there was an uninterrupted flow from nursery to secondary education in that pattern of our educational system. That has now been cancelled. That is what is called “progress”.

I believe this background, and his branch of academic discipline, gave Professor Fafunwa the impetus to introduce the 6-3-3-4 system when he became the Minister of  Education in General Ibrahim Babangida’s star-studded cabinet. Nigeria was probably not ready for it, though other highly regarded educationists, (like my late brother, Olatunde Lawrence, the founder of Gaskiya College, Lagos), personally reveled in its obvious merits.

He also made other far-reaching changes, like the creation of  bodies  for easier and more compact administration, like the NECO and “Language Village” he planted in several areas of  the  country. He was passionate about the education of a fine texture that would suit various pursuits in the acquisition of  knowledge.

I grew to know him more in his Mobil Oil days, before he went on to Nsukka. We often wondered what a “doctor” was doing in the corporate affairs of an oil company. He was ebullient in his discourse generally even then, but it was at Nsukka that he flourished. He would definitely have stayed longer there, but for the Civil War which also disrupted many other lives.

The ambience suited him so well, and he cherished an affinity with the people, having been a beneficiary of  Dr. Kingsley Mbadiwe’s “Greater Tomorrow” scholarship programme. He could be said to have truly personified the spirit of the scheme.

He gave himself   fully and freely to whatever company in which he found himself. He never seemed to appreciate how important, how great, how gracious he was. A fervent Moslem, he remained true to himself throughout his life. God rest him.

Time out.