By Emmanuel Bello

Let me begin with a personal story. One day in the spring of 1991, we were all huddled together listening to the radio in good old Wukari. General Ibrahim Babangida, the then president was about to make a serious announcement on the issue of state creation and expectations were high. We sat there hoping to know what fate will befall us probably in the way many Nigerians waited with bated breath on the eve of the nation’s independence.

The prospect of a new state is always exciting to beneficiaries: the new capital with all its possibilities; freedom from an older state with the crisis of distance, identity and control; the very fact that one will belong to a brand new state. It was an exciting experience. But there were fears too: will the new state survive? What about the worry of fresh dominance? Who will be the new leaders in the state and how will they dispense justice?

And as we listened to the sleek voice of the general as he reeled out the new states, our hearts almost stopped beating. One of us even had a moment of doubt when he asked if we actually needed a state of our own. Then there was the ever serious Tanko. Tanko, in those days was a very pessimistic fellow. He didn’t join in our euphoria from the start. He wondered if it would mean anything to break away from Gongola state. “So what if we have a new state? We would still not have the capital here from what I’m hearing. And what kind of a state will it be even? A very small place where we may not have what we are looking for?” he argued.

We shouted him down. I was the most eloquent and I went into the polemics of having a new state: Yola (the capital of old Gongola) was too far away, I argued. A new state will bring governance closer, I emphasised. Besides, we all love the sound of “Taraba”. It sounded unique.

But again, everyone has his or her reason for wanting a new state. For the dyed in the wool administrator, it might be for career growth purposes. For the politician, it was always for gaining more control (“I can’t become a governor in Gongola. I just might in Taraba”).

Then IBB dropped the name of the state and its capital- Jalingo. We went wild with joy. The relatively quiet “Jalingo” suddenly jumped into our consciousness. The town from that day became our cultural, business and political headquarters. It was a solemn moment too. And as we drank the night away in merriment, we considered all the new possibilities ushered in by a new state.

Governance suddenly got closer and I knew that someday, I would have a fighting chance at something “big” in the new state. At the university too, we were seen as the new people with a new state. It was not easy getting adjusted to the name, having lived in Gongola for the first twenty years of my life, but we coped. In time, the name “Gongola” faded into history and we only remembered it when we veered into the subject. We were simply overjoyed!

Looking back, I hope that excitement has been vindicated. A state which started like a joke is now one of the fastest developing states in the country. Today, we have two universities (state and federal), another private university, an airport, many road networks in the capital city (remember, Jalingo started with just one road slicing into the main town). Taraba has experienced the best and the worst in its chequered chronicles. We have had great rulers and very horrible ones too.

The state has survived against the odds. Under the current governor, the state has reached what looks like its golden era. There was never a time when the state was more united, focused or peaceful like now. Pharmacist Danbaba Danfulani Suntai- though a very quiet, unassuming person, has moved the state from its rural start to a center of excellence. I don’t know where Gov. Suntai was twenty years ago, but it is a tribute to fate that I’m working with him today to contribute our modest quota towards a united, strong and virile Taraba. I hope history will be kind to us.