I READ Mr. Femi Kusa’s brilliant expose in the Nation newspaper, on his days in The Guardian and his encounter with the late Chief Alex Ibru, our late publisher and it occurred to me that one of the reasons why Africans counselled that we should not speak ill of the dead is that we deny them the right to reply.

In fact, Mr. Kusa, a thorough-bred journalist, taught us to always make sure that we hear the other side of the story because the newspaper is such a powerful medium that could be used to build or destroy people, especially when such people have no access to the media or are not in a position to respond to tell their own side of the story.

The story may be sweet, it may be sour. We have often relished our stories at The Guardian because it was an odyssey of life that shaped our professional lives today, within and outside the media profession. It was, for us, a unique experience, having to pass through the tutelage of seasoned media professionals and academics, who created a market place of ideas and an arena for robust interaction.

On the sub-level was the intrigues and chicaneries that should be expected from any human organisation. It was fun while it lasted because we recognised that after all, we are human beings, with our good and bad sides, and like the late Alex Ibru once advised me on September 9, 1989: “You should always look for the good side of every man and build on that”. Of course, everyman has his own nasty side. It was my rare and only moment of having a close encounter with my publisher.

I was among the few staff who were nominated for the Chairman’s award that year and the publisher waited for us in his office dressed in his trademark overflowing immaculate white apparel; he offered us a handshake, a piece of advice and five Naira. This was big money then, but the recognition was more important.

For me, it was a unique experience because the award came with promotion as a senior reporter, just three months after I was officially employed and my appointment was yet to be confirmed. Surprisingly, I had no godfather, neither was I from the favoured ethno-religious cabal that called the shots.

As an applicant, I had worked for six months without being considered worthy to be employed or paid any stipend for my contributions. In fact, the Editor of the paper then, Mr. Femi Kusa, had queried Mr. Ejiro Onabrakpeya, my immediate supervisor, on the rationale of recommending me, a non- Yoruba to be employed to replace a former member of the staff on the foreign desk who had resigned, to join an oil company.

Meanwhile, I had completed the almighty one month Guardian interview test and had been stringing for the Sunday unit where Amma Ogan was the Editor and Emeka Eluem Izeze was the Assistant Editor. Onukaba Adinoyi Ojo, the News Editor, was generously using my copies in The Guardian on Sunday.

For me, it was a big break; being able to earn byline in such a medium that was so compet itive was exciting and an attestation to skill and capability to compete among the best. I had travelled to Benin City every Friday with the circulation van to raise funds to survive in Lagos.

I could recall the advice of Juliet Ukabiala, our Defence Correspondent then, when she told me one Sunday afternoon to go to Mr. Kusa and find out my fate, because he could leave me to languish since I am not from his ethnic or religious constituency; he is a cross bearer. In those days, it took extra guts to meet Mr. Kusa on such matters because he will dismiss you with the perpetual frown on his face, followed by a lecture “that The Guardian has no money to recruit staff”.

I took Juliet’s advice and Mr. Kusa subjected me to another round of recruitment test that was destined to fail but God turned the situation around for me when I ran into a secret meeting where an official brief was being prepared for the visit of the former Military President, Gen. Ibrahim Babangida to France. The rest is now history.

My former Editor broke his 13 years silence on the intrigues and power play in The Guardian after the death of Chief Alex Ibru. His silence would have been golden because it was neither a mark of courage nor a display of wisdom; to impugn the character of dead people, especially when they are not in a position to defend their actions tells its own story.

But Mr. Kusa seemed so bitter in taking a swipe at the late publisher, lampooning his luxurious life style, his fascination with Rolls Royce, his capitalist and religious ethics, his power games and political adventures. Of course we remember the cocktail satire on Chief Alex Ibru going out every morning to admire his choice machines and muttering: “Rolls Rolls” in admiration.

Mr. Kusa’s story was a brilliant narrative from a craftsman we have always respected. The major snag is that neither Chief Alex Ibru nor Dr. Andy Akporugo is in a position to reply. But Dr. Kingsley Osadolor might be motivated to talk; Mr. Lade Bonuola might choose to let the dead man have his peace.

Most of the people who felt the rough edge of Mr. Kusa‘s style of leadership or members of the Ibru family may feel motivated to respond, so we must be ready to see what could be part of The Guardian story. All of them can hold their brief. However, I find it intriguing that Mr. Kusa waited for Alex Ibru to die before complaining about the primitive capitalism that he helped create and nurture, with his philosophy of “saving for profit sharing”.

I believe we all have a story to tell and those who played God with the lives of others should sit back and reflect on their own actions rather than playing the victim. In telling his story, Mr. Kusa tried to posture as a saint that was victimised and left unrewarded for all the great work he did for the greatness of the paper. Yet, he was only made to taste the same bitter herbal therapy he had administered to others with relish.

When in early 1990, members of staff left in droves out of frustration, Mr. Kusa, it was, who told the management that “The Guardian would reinvent itself”. The injustice, double standards, inequities and victimisations that forced them to leave were treated as non-issues. He rather told the Publisher that he was on top of the situation, while he saw it as an opportunity to amass and consolidate power.

He enjoyed it until the Publisher became worried with the declining quality of the paper and brought Dr. Akporugo to checkmate the powers of the DOP. I could recall in 1991, when I was promoted and made the Head of the Foreign Desk, Mr. Kusa did not consider me worthy to be a substantive Foreign News Editor because of my ethnic back ground.

It was the same reason that made him to deny my former boss, Mr. Onabrakpeya the position of being Foreign News Editor. Yet, I belong to the rare class of reporters who broke the editorial policy of one reporter not getting a by-line for two different stories on the front page. Even the promotion to become the Head of Foreign Desk was a mere paper promotion because it was financially punitive as my tax incidence, job responsibility and work load increased.

When I pointed this out to Mr. Kusa, he simply told me that I should be grateful to God and consider myself lucky and privileged, to have been promoted. It was then I decided to join the foot drain.

It is strange to see Mr. Kusa complain of the same situation for which he counselled me to organise a thanksgiving for. I find it a bit hypocritical to split hairs over his own experience when others took the bitter prescription of ” saving God’s money” with equanimity.

So many people that left The Guardian under his watch as Editor and later DOP had stories full of denial s, deprivations. It also sounds curious that Mr. Kusa would play the ethnic card in his rumination of his 17 years at the Guardian, particularly, in the comment of Late Dr. Andy Akporugo, when himself never saw anything good in people outside his ethno-religious camp Mr. Kusa will not bother to know your name if you are not from his ethnic backyard. It was this mindset that he took to midwife the failed Comet Newspaper.

I want to recall another incident in November 1997, when I walked into the Guardian to place an advert, I ran into the Managing Director, Mr. Lade Bonuola, who treated me like a son even though he too was a Yoruba man and I never knew him from Adam. In fact, his austere personality and disposition often warned every staff to stay off his track, but somehow, he became the most unlikely source of support and encouragement to me and I owe him tremendous gratitude and appreciation.

On the day in question, I was exiting from the company when he sighted and called me back in fact he literarily “arrested” me and took me to the Editor, Mr. Izeze, telling him to do everything possible, to ensure that I returned to the company which I left in 1993. He also took me to Mr. Kusa who was then, the Director of Publication, because he had retained the employment portfolio, as he considered himself to be best suited “to save God’s for the company.

In the process he amassed so much power and emasculated the Editor, Mr. Izeze and nobody complained at least, loudly. Mr. Bonuola, the MD, clearly told Mr. Kusa that he wants me “to come back and help to rebuild the Foreign News Desk”. Mr. Kusa gave me an appointment to see him in two days time which I did. He told me that if am desirous of coming back, I must go back to M4/4 which was my last position before I left in 1993. I told him that my company was doing well in its printing business where I have embassies and High commissions as clients and that I am comfortable.

I went back to Mr. Bonuola to relayed my experience with Mr. Kusa and thank him for reposing such confidence in me. Every other effort he made to get me back was frustrated by the DOP.

I left without any feeling of bitterness. Majority of the first generations of the Guardian team that left in the 1990s would not forget their ordeal in the hands of Mr. Kusa, who was the most visible face of management unfortunately; he saw it as an opportunity to be vindictive, punitive and dismissive. But like Chinua Achebe said, “those who drew a maggot infested log home” are now complaining of the visitation of lizards, what an irony?

As a capitalist, Chief Alex Ibru never pretended to be running Oxfam or a Red Cross. He was the man of capital and if those around him wanted “to save God’s money”, he would oblige them. It was the likes of Mr. Kusa that made Chief Ibru to have a dim view of journalism and journalists as people. I could recall once more another incident in 1991 when we were made to keep vigil over Operation Desert Storm in Iraq, Chief Alex Ibru mandated his wife to personal bring food for the Gulf Watch team headed by Levi Obijiofor with myself as the Deputy.

After the first week of the daily watch, the Editor stopped the feeding because some journalists were now taking it as an opportunity to stay back and eat free food which is not good for “saving God’s money”. Chief Alex Ibru respected journalists in his later days because the media had given him much clout, influence and power and protection to the Ibru clan.

The likes of late Dr. Stanley Macebuh had their stories. Those of us who left earlier kept our stories and chose to look at the good side of the things we took away from our beloved Guardian, He chose the wrong time to tell his story and it had so much soured grapes and litany of woes, which is perfectly their right, but it was a bitter pill he had given to other people. There is no need to complain.

The best he could have done was to forgive the dead man and wish his family well, because in death all errors are forgiven. The object of venom cannot tell his own story, yet every man has a story, but the final word for publisher of the flagship is Adieu! Alex Ibru.

Mr. HUGO ODIOGOR, a former staff of The Guardian, wrote from Lagos.