Last night, I did what most will find an arduous task—I read A Journey in Service cover to cover. Not a single page skipped, no footnote left unexamined. I took notes, pondered, and wrestled with the grand narrative spun by Nigeria’s self-styled Maradona, General Ibrahim Badamasi Babangida (IBB). What follows is a preliminary review, a first salvo in what will be a more exhaustive engagement with the book in the coming days.
A Study in Perspective—IBB’s Reality vs. Reality
IBB’s memoir is, at its core, a meticulous attempt at curating history. The book does not merely recount events; it orchestrates them, giving us a carefully composed symphony where the conductor ensures every note serves his legacy. It is a well-written exercise in perspective, where the line between objective history and subjective experience is blurred—sometimes skillfully, sometimes audaciously.
If this book teaches us anything, it is that reality is fluid and history is, at best, a wrestling match between memory and truth. This is his journey in service, after all, not necessarily the journey that others took alongside him. One can only imagine what Shehu Yar’Adua, MKO Abiola, or even his erstwhile “colleague-in-arms” Sani Abacha might have said had they been given space to narrate their own accounts. Alas, history often belongs to those who write it.
The Maradona of Politics: Dancing Through the Landmines of Power
IBB has long been dubbed Maradona for his ability to dribble past political obstacles, leaving opponents flailing in his wake. This book, in many ways, is a testament to that reputation. The way he recounts the annulment of the June 12 election is a dazzling display of evasive footwork. One moment, he is the victim of “fifth columnists” within his own administration; the next, he takes full responsibility for an event that, in his telling, he had little control over. It is a rhetorical feint worthy of Argentina’s number 10.
He insists that he was horrified when the announcement was made that the election results were annulled. He was, apparently, blindsided. Yet, despite his horror, he did nothing to reverse it. Instead, he embarked on a delicate waltz between military factions, civilian pressure groups, and international observers, ultimately ensuring that the elections remained nothing more than an unfulfilled dream. If this book proves anything, it is that even regret can be weaponized as a tool for historical rehabilitation.
The Economics of Pain: Structural Adjustment or Structural Affliction?
Perhaps the most fascinating part of this memoir is IBB’s recounting of the Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP). Here, he dons the robes of an economic reformer, a leader willing to make hard choices for the good of the nation. His embrace of privatization, deregulation, and austerity measures comes across as almost noble—if one ignores the actual consequences.
He speaks of the inflation that followed SAP as if it were an unfortunate but necessary side effect, much like a patient enduring chemotherapy for a greater good. He dismisses the SAP riots—protests that erupted across the country due to economic hardship—as the handiwork of “misguided students, disgruntled politicians, and ill-informed academics.” Oh, how convenient it must be to reduce mass discontent to the grumblings of the uninformed! The fact that ordinary Nigerians bore the brunt of these policies, that livelihoods were shattered, and that entire industries collapsed is, in IBB’s account, an unfortunate but ultimately justifiable price to pay for economic reform.
The Players in His Theatre: Praise, Blame, and Omissions
The book does not shy away from name-dropping. Shehu Yar’Adua, Buhari, Abacha, MKO Abiola, Olu Falae, Chu S.P. Okongwu, and Jerry Gana all make appearances—each playing their assigned roles in IBB’s grand narrative. Some are wise counselors, others are adversaries; all are, ultimately, supporting characters in the Maradona story.
Abacha, for instance, is portrayed as a looming force, an inevitable storm that IBB saw coming but could not prevent. The subtext is clear: had things gone differently, perhaps IBB would have transitioned Nigeria into democracy more smoothly. But alas, forces beyond his control conspired against him. Convenient, isn’t it?
And then there is MKO Abiola—the man whose election he annulled. Here, IBB extends an olive branch, painting himself as someone who tried to find a middle ground. He even claims that he reached out to Abiola for an interim arrangement—a claim that sounds suspiciously like offering a man a life raft after having already sunk his ship.
Final Thoughts: A Journey in Self-Preservation
If there is one thing this book achieves, it is the careful crafting of a legacy. It is a political memoir in the truest sense—an exercise in justification, a plea for understanding, and, above all, a reminder that history is always kinder to those who write it themselves.
Make no mistake: A Journey in Service is a fascinating read. It is a masterclass in historical revisionism, a narrative where regret is carefully balanced with self-praise, and where every failure is contextualized, if not outright excused. This is IBB’s truth, carefully arranged and masterfully presented. But as any good historian knows, truth is a mosaic—one that requires the voices of all key players, not just the protagonist.
For now, I close this review with a knowing smile, awaiting the more detailed analysis I will present in the coming days. After all, a man does not earn the title of Maradona without giving us something to dribble through.
