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CHAMPION OF DEMOCRACY

Chief Obafemi Awolowo recognized the young man's talents, and in 1951, asked him to form the Midwest Action Group.  This party represented tribes of that area, including Enahoro's own group, the Ishan, in which he is a hereditary chief.  The Midwest Action Group soon merged with Awolowo's Western Action Group to form the AG, partner and rival of Azikiwe's NCNC in the independence struggle.

By then, Enahoro was an elected representative to the western regional and national governments, both still under colonial aegis.  A champion of local self-determination, Enahoro was the first in the Western House of Assembly to propose the creation of the Midwest Region.

Chief Enahoro was also in the vanguard of those pushing for quick independence.  In 1953, he introduced a resolution in the Federal House of Representatives, declaring that "1956 is a position from which it is impossible to retreat," and his was one of the voices, which accelerated regional (1957) and national (1960) independence.

From 1953 to 1962, Enahoro held many posts in Western Regional and Federal governments, including portfolios for Home Affairs, Midwest Affairs, Information, and Transport.  He was a founder of the University of Ife and active in pan-African affairs and in his own newspaper and business interests.

A split in the Action Group between Awolowo and his deputy S.L. Akintola in 1962 led to the Western state of emergency, the banning of the AG, and disaster for Enahoro. He was in Ghana on AG business and to consult with President Kwame Nkrumah, when Enahoro heard of a warrant for his arrest.

The reward for Enahoro's huge contribution to Nigerian independence was an indictment on two counts of treason.  First, he was accused of organizing resistance to the NCNC's extra-legal electioneering in the Midwest.  Second, he was alleged to have participated in a plot to overthrow the Federal government, which was controlled by a Northern-Eastern coalition, with Akintola's breakaway party, the NNDP, as junior partner.

Enahoro fled to political asylum in Ireland.  England, too, promised safety, but he was arrested the first time he crossed the border.  After prolonged legal proceedings, he was extradited to Nigeria.  In September 1963, he was tried, convicted, and sentenced to 15 years imprisonment on the treason charges.

In 1966, however, Enahoro was released, and he was soon named President of the Festival of Arts and Culture of the Black World by the military administration of General Yakubu Gowon (1967-75).  During the regime of General Olusegun Obasanjo, 1976-79, he left politics but returned under the civilian rule of Shehu Shagari, 1979-83, to become Chairman of Bendel (Edo) State.

Since 1984, Chief Enahoro has led the Nigerian pro-democracy movement.  In 1992, he formed the Movement for National Reformation, now a member organization of the National Democratic Coalition of Nigeria (NADECO).  Once again Chief Enahoro's voice was silenced when, in September 1994, the military regime of Sani Abacha imprisoned him without charges for five months.

When Enahoro was released, both to protect his life and to continue to speak out, he fled his homeland for the U.S.  That was in May 1996.  Less than a year later, he was indicted in absentia for his supposed role in planning the Ikeja bombings—a murky, alleged conspiracy to destroy General Abacha and his associates.

Currently, Chief Enahoro and his wife, who have five grown children, live in the Washington, D.C. metropolitan area, where he continues as Chairman of NADECO.

Interview Excerpts

When you graduated from Kings College, had you already formed definite opinions that you kept for life?
No, they began to develop and change—and they have changed very much in the last few years.  We were 19 or 20, and felt the impact of World War II because the radio was quite new in Nigeria.  Some of us came from a rather anti-British background, my grandfather had been put into exile.  In the back of one's mind, there was an idea that the British had no right to be ruling us.

Yet your father was an anglophile. 
Oh, yes!  His only complaint about British rule was that it ended too soon.  When the crisis came on in '62, '63, and I would complain about people like Akintola, he would listen for a while, then say, "Tony, you can't complain."

At The West African Pilot, when you worked for Azikiwe, did you ever feel constricted in your opinions?
Well, when I became editor of The Comet, I had a freer hand.  The Comet was at the other end of town. Azikiwe kept tight reins on The Pilot, but physically he couldn't, really, on The Comet.  There were no telephones in those days.  He couldn't sit in one place, then run to the other.  He was too busy.

What's your assessment of Azikiwe?
He was a great evangelist, a great speaker from the platform.  I don't think he was a very courageous person.  And he didn't prove to be a great administrator.

So Macaulay [founder of the NCNC] was the first stage, Azikiwe [the leader of the post-war independence movement] was the second, and then Awolowo, the third, the one to make specific reforms and do the administrative work?
Yes.

Is that why you went over to the Action Group?
Yes, Awolowo was a great administrator, very industrious.

Someone once said that if Azikiwe and Awolowo had been able to make their peace...
Yes, I did say so.  In '59, some of us would have brought them together.  If we had succeeded, Nigeria's series of crises would not have occurred.

Before we go to Awolowo, lets talk about the "four obnoxious bills."
Yes, they concern Nigeria's natural resources.

They have become big issues, of course, with the oil.
[Enahoro explains how the bills gave control of resources first to the Crown, then to the Federal government. He summarizes his group's proposal for local control, subject to federal taxation, and indicates that the oil companies would probably accept this arrangement.]

How do you think some sort of moral revival might take place in Nigeria?
When you go down to the villages, you don't hear of money being stolen, because, if it happens, the thief's family is in disgrace forever.  But the government is something else. If you can rob people and come home to build a church or a school, it's like going to war and getting booty!  Heavens, you're a hero!  The whole concept of government is so distant from ethnic communities.  What made the Eastern and Western Regions successful in past days was that you had a cultural base.  You had the Yorubas, and their chiefs were members of the House of Chiefs.

The chiefs have no role now?
None.  But people still take their problems to them because, to go to the Magistrate's court, you must speak English, you need a lawyer, and so on.

What guarantees that chiefs now would be insulated from party politics?  What makes them so incorruptible?
Well, in Edo areas, chieftaincy and succession are by primogeniture.  The government can't remove them.  That ties its hands.  But it's not so in Yorubaland.  It's the family that chooses, and that, increasingly, introduces an element of corruption.  But, if we address that as a problem, I think we could find a solution.

[Enahoro goes on to question the present governmental structure with its supreme president. He summarizes his group's position: assuming that there must be a system with one person at the top, it should take the form of a rotating, collegiate presidency.]

When you were in the Western House of Representatives, you helped bring water and roads to Ishan. Modernizing Ishan was an achievement. But didn't modernization also weaken the traditional structure of the area?
When the 1962 crisis came, we had just begun to address the economy, schools, agriculture.  We hadn't really disturbed the traditional structure too much.  Looking back, I thought vaguely, at the time, but more strongly now, that the net effect of what we were doing was to Anglicize the area.  A young man went to school, let's say, at age five, and after the first three or four years, all the way up to university, learned in English.  But he didn't speak English at home.  It's gotten worse since then.  How can you build a democracy without a cultural base?

[Referring to maps and other documents, Enahoro summarizes his group's proposal on nationalities and governmental structure. There would be at least fifteen states, economically self-sufficient entities composed of one or more nationalities, combining into eight federations, two each in the Far North, Middle Belt, West and East, which would, in turn, combine to form the Union of Nigeria. The system is designed to prevent the larger units from usurping the power of the smaller, and it contains safeguards for fair elections, an independent judiciary, and so on.]

You worked in the Gowon military regime, but then you suffered at the hands of other military rulers. What place do you see for the army?
[Enahoro summarizes the history of the Nigerian army before giving his answer.]
In the South, the army is an alien force.

What was General Yakubu Gowon like? [Yakubu Gowon ruled Nigeria 1966 to 1973.]
When he came to office, he didn't know much about administration, but he was an impressive young officer--smart, very willing to listen.  At the end, when the coup came, it was welcomed, because it was thought that this chap wanted to stay on and on.

Was Obasanjo the organizer of that coup?
No, it was General Muritala Muhammed.  Obasanjo probably knew about it, but he couldn't have organized the coup because he didn't have the personal following.  Muhammed was then assassinated himself.

When Obasanjo ceded military control and allowed an election, people said that showed he's a true democrat. [Current President Olusegun Obasanjo also ruled from 1975-79, then presided over the election creating the Shagari regime, known as the Second Republic, 1979-83.]
Those who knew about it said he scuttled and ran.  Don't forget, they had just killed his predecessor!  There are arguments about whether it was really democratic, about Shagari's right to rule.  According to the constitution, it would have required an electoral college to sort things out, and a combination of Azikiwe and Awolowo would have won the election.

Were Azikiwe and Awolowo chastened enough then to cooperate?
They had reached an understanding.  I wasn't party to it, but I understand Zik had agreed to support Awo.  There would be constitutional changes to restore the parliamentary system, like in India, so that Zik would be President, Awo Prime Minister.  It could have worked.  In '59, we were trying to make it work, but we didn't have the clout.

[Enahoro summarizes events leading to the crisis in the Western Region. He gives a thumbnail sketch of Akintola.]
In the House of Assembly, when Akintola saw that he was going to lose, he started a fracas. I remember that it was confined to the House, not in the town. And, on our way back to Lagos, we saw tanks on the road leading to Ibadan.

It was all set up.
We've never recovered from that.  That brought the army into politics.

Could you explain how the Midwest became a separate region?
[Enahoro explains that the creation of the Midwest, though popular and long contemplated, became a ploy through which Akintola gained control of the Western Regional government.]

After all you've gone through, are you still loyal to something called Nigeria? And what is it?
There is, and always will be, some residual loyalty there because of the early dreams--here is a territory that could become great, a sort of great black man's country, biggest in Africa, that sort of thing.  There will always be a little bit of that left.  But I can't say that the fire of the early days has remained.  Given, also, that in Nigeria you have nations large enough to think of being on their own, frankly, more and more people are thinking of that. Even the idea of one-man one-vote in a multi-national setting...I don't think it can be said to be democracy.  That's what these proposals [referring to documents on his desk] are all about, and that's what I'm working for, in the last three years.

It sounds like you think it's more probable there will be a split in Nigeria than that your proposals would be adopted.
Well, I'd rather put it this way.  Probably a split would not be opposed as bitterly as it might have been in the past.  We could not have another Biafran War now.

Maybe your proposal wouldn't be opposed as bitterly as it might have been in the past.
That's one's hope.  In the past, we were called tribalists, but as time has gone on, thank God that some were tribalists!  It prevented domination by one group.

If I had to write your epitaph I might be inclined to write, "He served his masters--too well." Each stage of your career has been devoted to an ideal that you pursued wholeheartedly. You worked with Azikiwe to get an independent Nigeria, then with Awolowo to build that nation, and so on, yet at each stage you've wound up in jail or exile.
And pretty near death, under Abacha!  I did have the temptation of retiring between '75 and '79 and again between '83 and '92.  But, each time I felt that there were things required to be said that were not being said.

It becomes a habit, doesn't it?
Well, it grows on you.

A last word?
Things are really still in the hands of the army.  If Obasanjo is there for ten years or four years, he's really not going to make any difference.  Unless there's a fundamental change of structure in the army itself, then it doesn't matter if the odd person comes and goes.  There's a great outcry in the South, so the powers that be, whoever they are, say, "Let them have a couple of years…whatever.  And then, we can take it back, and say, 'But you just had it, don't complain'."  I don't think that, in the long term, Obasanjo is going to make any difference to anything.
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GOING HOME ON A MOTORCYCLE

Perhaps, to compensate for my two years without a Honda 50, I decided to start my journey home on a motorcycle.  I joined Doug Hoecker, (11) 64-66, and Eldon Nelson, (12) 64-67, on a bike journey planned to take us 3000 kilometers.  This would be the most significant motorcycle experience of my life.  It turned out to be the only one.

We splurged a large part of our readjustment allowances on brand new Suzuki 80 cc's, the largest bikes available in Lagos.  I squandered a whopping $330.

I was much less of a motorcycle aficionado than my two companions.  To tell the truth, I would rather have been in a car.  I had a high center of gravity.  Given that natural fact, and the large load I had to pack on the cycle, I was secretly convinced most of the time that I was going to topple over—or get run over.

We started in Lagos with the idea of riding all the way to Dakar, Senegal.  Our route took us along the coast through Benin (then Dahomey), Togo, and Ghana where we would go inland through Akosombo to see the then newly completed dam of the Volta river, on to Kumasi, the garden city of West Africa, and into Cote d'Ivoire.  There we dipped down to the coast again to see Abidjan before heading north to Mali en route to Dakar.

We took our time, ever mindful that it was prudent to assume that the right of way was inversely proportional to the size of one's vehicle.  Although those cycles admirably hugged the roads, we really learned to appreciate folded-over pillows to supplement the manufacturer’s seat cushion.  Our parked cycles were used as tent poles when we emerged from the forest into the savanna.

We had some of the best food imaginable in places like Berekum, Ghana, and Agnibilekrou, Cote d'Ivoire.

After a month, and 2,000 kilometers, we arrived in Bamako, capital of Mali and smack in the middle of the cattle-raising region of the country.  We ate super steak and fries at incredible prices and watched a James Bond movie in French with an audience so enthusiastic you’d have thought it was a live performance.

We were disappointed, however, to learn that a bridge was out and we could not get through to Senegal with our motorcycles.  Having arrived on tourist visas, without import licenses, we needed government permission to sell our cycles in Mali and we negotiated for at least a week with officials to get permission. We finally sold our cycles (a scarcity in Mali) for about 30 percent more than we had paid for them in Lagos.  That profit was enough to pay for our trip from Lagos to Bamako.

Unfortunately the local currency had no value outside of Mali.  We pondered our dilemma.  Finally we discovered a loophole.  We could buy our Air Mali tickets from Bamako to Washington, D.C., in local currency for a bit less than we had gotten for our motorcycles.

But relief was tempered with sadness.  We were leaving our beloved cycles, leaving Africa, and trading winter temperatures for those never-to-be-traveled, last 1000 kilometers of our adventure.

Editor’s Note: The author worked in Peace Corps training programs, and in 1968 on a USAID contract went to Ghana where he met his wife, a Ghanaian elementary teacher. In 1986-87 worked for the Missouri Botanical Garden in Cameroon while pursuing his PhD in biology from St. Louis University. He now teaches at the University of Arkansas, Beebe campus, and has five children, including three stepchildren all of whom have become American citizens.
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PEACE CORPS WITHOUT ITS ALUMNI

Two items in the morning paper:  Congress plans to increase the Peace Corps budget to achieve the mythic goal of 10,000 volunteers in the field.  And, House supporter Tom Chapman (R-CA), will be seeking legislation so "Peace Corps volunteers would have the same benefits as Foreign Service Officers."

The thought of your average volunteer headed out to a site with 5,000 pounds of sea freight on the roof of a bus is enough to give this alum a heart attack.

Obviously, a goodly number of people who haven't the first clue about Peace Corps are reworking its design, while 150,000 alumni, perfectly qualified to improve the agency, sit on their hands.

It takes an informed constituency, dedicated to serious monitoring, to prevent plaque build-up in government-run programs.  Peace Corps, like others, is healthier under a regimen of regular flossing.  We, the alumni and rightful bearers of the torch, must pitch in to keep the agency focused on values consistent with its mission or be prepared for our present-day counterparts to have an experience considerably diminished from our own.

Most volunteers, once launched, need little from headquarters, merely a fighting chance to deliver their services.  These are often personalized beyond recognition by the bean counters but performed with the spirit that has made Peace Corps legendary.  Left to their own devices, volunteers perform superbly in the field.  Every American who has been through this excellent experience ought to be concerned that successors are afforded the same opportunities.

There should be a single question on the mind of every staff person on Peace Corps payroll:  What can I do to give each volunteer the opportunity to feel successful?  A vocal, committed alumni would keep dialogue between the field and headquarters, always capable of improvement, focused on the trenches, a point of view sometimes lost in political Washington.

Here are a few ideas, which, if promoted by a healthy percentage of RPCVs, could make a serious difference in the support of present volunteers.

Presently, pivotal managerial positions--already weakened by the revolving door of the five-year rule—suffer from party regulars pouring in without benefit of field experience.  The agency director is expected to accept employees from various wings of the party, making team building complex and time consuming.

It would be a great service to the agency if concerned RPCVs would address this issue directly with Congress, the only body who can correct the imbalance. Everybody would win, except the cronies.

Purify the Five-Year Rule.
Congress in its wisdom demanded in 1961 that no staff person serve in Peace Corps longer than five years.  While it tears holes in the personal lives of employees, it is a brilliant concept.  If it weren't for The Rule, folks who first got the overseas appointments would still be there.  It gives new talent a chance to rise and serve the agency at its best.  It keeps the agency fresh, free from careerists and hide-bound bureaucrats, and attracts workers who sign up for the love of it.

However, over the past 35-plus years, the agency has approved detours around The Rule.  With a nod from the director, the anointed serve up to eight and a half years.  This two-tiered system is without transparency, leads to charges of favoritism, and sparks sycophancy.  Again, it would serve the agency for the alumni to go directly to Congress, demanding that no exceptions be allowed to this sound concept.  Equality in staff ranks would strengthen the agency and considerably boost morale.

The five-year rule should be returned to its ingenious, original simplicity.

Convince Congress to pay Peace Corps for the work it does.
Serious administrative frustration exists within the agency because of the persistent need to find additional, but outside, funds.  The agency is weakened first by a network of interagency agreements.  These force Peace Corps to go, hat in hand, to other agencies such as USAID or EPA to request additional monies because sufficient funds haven’t been allocated. Further, in a desperate search for additional, the Office of Private Sector Cooperation was created within the agency to solicit gifts from non-government sources to help make ends meet.  It is an embarrassing mixture of public and private funds, and it has the potential for great mischief.

I administered a program to which a philanthropist gave $1.2 million earmarked for a specific program.  The donor, feeling a sense of ownership, sought constant access to my office to keep an eye on how his money was spent.  This was discomforting and chaotic.

All this hubbub is avoided if Congress simply pays for a program they profess to admire.  A vocal alumni is the ideal instrument for convincing Congress to fully finance the mission of the Peace Corps in an orderly fashion.

Professionalize executive recruitment of staff members.
Horror stories abound.  There is no consistent path for alumni talent to find work at Peace Corps.  Flourishing insider trading and powerful corridor-talk make blind recruiting impossible.  An alumni ombudsman would help keep executive recruitment open, honest, and effective.

Recruit volunteers with new methodology.
The dirtiest secret in the agency is that delivering the fabled 10,000 volunteers is only remotely possible.  Under the present recruiting regime, a constant battle is waged between facing an under-fill or dumbing down the skills requested by host countries.

Stories from 635 volunteers, who served during my five years in the field, had one persistent theme: nobody got through recruitment smoothly and no two people were treated to the same process.  Surely some experienced professional can make recruitment an effective network for finding the brightest and best.  Presently the task is handed off to a political appointee.

Alumni, where are you?  This is tailor-made for you.

Coordinate exiting a country with establishing an indigenous volunteer NGO.
As Peace Corps continues to extract itself from Eastern and Central Europe, a thoughtful exit policy which combines agency needs with the interests of the host country government should be brought into play.  Thus far, the agency has bundled up its volunteers and staff and gone home.  Lip service and feeble attempts are the present legacy in Hungary and the Czech Republic.  No successful conduit has been found for an ongoing program of dynamic community volunteerism after the agency closes.

It would fit RPCV goals for a local NGO to inherit the methodology of the Peace Corps.  An appropriate successor would encourage, train, and raise public awareness regarding community service.  It could also serve as a conduit for people-to-people programming to which RPCVs are dedicated.

Alumni should demand that Peace Corps not leave a country without considering the needs of the RPCVs who depart from their country-of-service with a lifetime commitment.  They would be appropriately served to have a new generation of NGOs, led by local volunteers, available to them and their inevitable generosity.

If local hires were also obliged to observe the five-year rule, they would be a regular and rich resource for leadership in the idiginous NGO community.

Tolerate no more insults from the President.
Imagine the Veterans' Administration being run by someone who had never served in the military.  The President would never consider it for a nanosecond because that alumni would excoriate him.  Why are we RPCVs so docile and pathetic on this issue?  We need a Peace Corps Director who has served well in the field, lived by those principles, and views the agency as more than a political plum, a stepping-stone, a podium.  The director must be one returning to familiar ground, leading from experience, ignoring the myths, compounding the dividend, nurturing the esprit de corps.

Never again should an election pass with the alumni standing still. Never again should a pal of the winner be confirmed as director without the endorsement of an alumni advisory panel.  Never again should the RPCV voice be ignored in the process of choosing the leader whose mandate is to understand our brothers and sisters in the field. RPCVs instinctively know the values of volunteers are such that if they are feeling successful, one can be sure the project is working.  Yet we are overlooked in determining the most important decision the President makes for us.

If inequities of this magnitude occurred in our villages, you can bet we would have done something about it, and in a lot less time. We need to act smart.  When are 150,000 voting alumni going to be heard from?

Enlarge the role of the NPCA to seriously lobby  and monitor the agency.
As noted above, there are serious ways in which NPCA could effectively serve the agency. In its earliest days, the RPCV movement was able to both support and openly monitor the agency, an enviable track record.  But, today, the agency is a funding source for the NPCA and alumni may be hesitant to interfere with the cash flow.  That must not deter us.  We should feel free to speak out whenever the agency veers from the course thought best by the returned volunteers.

And, as importantly, a powerful caring arm of protection, represented by thousands of alumni across the country, should be thrown around the administration if the agency is threatened.

On two occasions the alumni were effective in exactly that role.  When political enemies of a Reagan-appointed director decided to move Peace Corps headquarters into rural Virginia, a mailing campaign of majestic proportions was mounted in record time and successfully convinced the designated Hill Committee the agency must remain in central Washington.

And, in one of Peace Corps’ darkest hours, when all the country directors were coming out of the White House, then-Senator Alan Cranston, was convinced by a persistent RPCV lobby to put a rider on a bill speeding through Congress which demanded such practice halt.  And it did.

Peace Corps should embrace the concept of a powerful lobby of private citizens dedicated to agency excellence and possessing demographics capable of making Congress quiver in its quorum.  This smallest of federal agencies, such a uniquely American institution, would gain in every way by welcoming and encouraging RPCV participation, utilizing past leadership.  There would be inevitable bonuses for all, always the outcome in our tradition of service.

All we need to do is care, and act, to make the difference.
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DREAMING THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM

Early volunteers were typically young, first-generation college graduates attracted to idealism and exciting travel.  Often raised in churches that encouraged missionary work, some had a desire to do something different and daring.  Some answered JFK’s call to "Ask not," by joining Peace Corps to make a difference. Idealistic reasons for joining remained throughout the 60s, but other motivations changed drastically later in the decade.

Vietnam changed both volunteer outlook and Peace Corps training.  When the program was born, volunteers were generalists sent off to start programs in health, education, and infrastructure.  By 1967 Peace Corps was recruiting specialists.

Early Volunteers remember training lectures about the menace of international communism, and feeling they were supposed to be an anti-Communist force.  Later, Sargent Shriver specifically warned volunteers to avoid appearing as propagandists.  While anti-Communism was implicit in Peace Corps, volunteers felt the program was a success on its own terms, quite separate from American foreign policy.

In the late, motives for joining Peace Corps changed.  Volunteers opposed to the Vietnam War felt they could either wait to be drafted and go to Canada or join the Peace Corps for a deferment.  For many, avoiding the draft was less important than the idealistic mission to save the world.  Later volunteers were not so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as their predecessors, but they were inspired by the same idealism, which created continuity in the Peace Corps experience.

Nigeria was one of the first African countries affected by the Peace Corps.  Losing the British colonial system at independence in 1960 meant losing schoolteachers from an educational system that had been in place for a long time.  Volunteers filled the gap until Nigeria could produce enough Nigerian teachers.

In the 60s, Peace Corps Nigeria flourished with more volunteers than any other African country and exemplary organization.  But it had its problems.

Initially, volunteers struggled with inadequate training.  Three-month training programs at American universities often did not understand or address the issues, which volunteers would later face.  Even in the best-organized Peace Corps program, lack of planning or follow-through was appalling and disillusioning.

While many volunteers agree training was too detailed, academic, and theoretical, there were exceptions.  Peace Corps directors returning from Nigeria advised flexibility as the single most useful concept to retain.  Some volunteers felt so unprepared they did not complete their service, but most shrugged off the incompetence of training and rose to meet their challenges.

Volunteers settled in, independent of program administration.  Some admit that once in service their biggest problem was dealing with "inane" directives from administration.  The solution was to ignore them.  Volunteers do remember, however, that Peace Corps provided a sound infrastructure in terms of health and initial assignments.  As in-service workshops evolved, they were perceived as helpful.

One problem Peace Corps volunteers faced was their own unclear expectation of their roles.  Often, volunteers wanted tangible signs to measure their impact.  Some felt no matter what they did, they could not change the colonial system.  While slow in coming, change did occur and volunteers made a difference.  Peace Corps teachers introduced independent thinking in their classrooms and amended syllabuses to accommodate African culture.

Social relationships were a measure of volunteer impact.  A common negative was superficial contact with Nigerians.  Early white volunteers were held in awe.  But, some Nigerians also gave the first volunteers a fair amount of heat for being 22-year-old CIA agents.  After a time, Nigerians realized that these Americans had honorable intentions.  As the program gained esteem, most volunteers interacted significantly with Nigerians, and felt appreciated, respected, and loved.

Some volunteer dilemmas, however, were out of anyone’s control.  On May 30, 1967, Biafra seceded from the country.  Civil war ensued.  Volunteers serving in all regions of Nigeria were caught between sympathy for the people they were living among and the official US neutrality.

While most volunteers supported official neutrality, feeling that Nigerians had to work out cultural and religious issues themselves, many intervened behind the scenes. Some volunteers ran refugee camps until they themselves were evacuated and after the war were not allowed to return because they aided Biafran refugees.

Volunteers serving during the Biafran war became much more appreciative of their own government.  Because of Vietnam, these volunteers began service already doubting their government.  Witnessing the unrest in Nigeria and the problems Nigerians faced gave volunteers a new perspective.  Often they returned home with a more positive view of America.

Volunteers, even those of the early 60s not hardened or disillusioned by Vietnam, came home with opened eyes.  They saw discrepancies in foreign policy and actual action.  They appreciated the government that sent them to Nigeria, but they learned to be more critical of it and less apt to accept propaganda.  Overall, Peace Corps volunteers of the sixties came home with a more objective perspective of their country after viewing it from afar.

The return of the sixties volunteers had a meaningful impact on America then and today.  They took their third goal--to educate Americans and develop cross-cultural understanding—seriously.  Many stayed actively involved with Nigeria, following its politics and foreign aid, founding programs for its benefit, writing articles, and even returning to Nigeria.

Returned Peace Corps Volunteers of Nigeria are impressive individuals who have held onto a humanitarian dream.  It is a dream to return, in some small measure, the gift of understanding one’s self, and one’s world. Nigeria gave them that gift.
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ABOUT INGER HANSEN

Planning to write an American history paper on the 60s, and the Peace Corps in particular as representative of the era’s mood, Inger didn’t want to rely solely on academic references.  She interviewed by phone or email 29 of the 55 of us who responded to her email request for information.

Inger skillfully wove personal perceptions and anecdotes into a paper backed by scholarly references.  The paper is insightful, beautifully written, and an excellent review of the historical and political background of the experience we all remember.  Regretfully, only a condensation of her paper is reproduced here.

Inger is a boarding student from Anchorage, AL, the daughter of a physician father and a mother pursuing a doctoral degree in religion.  She became interested in other countries when in fourth grade she traveled with her mother and brother for three months in Australia and New Zealand.

Since then, Inger has also traveled in Canada, France, and England, and has experienced cultural misunderstanding—New Hampshire classmates tease her about igloos, the darkness, and the cold of her home state.  She has always hiked and biked, recently began cross-country skiing, and has really found her passion in crew.  She rowed at Henley, England, last year with her school’s winning women’s crew. Inger plays several instruments and sings in her school madrigal group.  Hoping to be a doctor or a veterinarian, Inger works summers at a veterinary clinic.  She hopes to join Peace Corps after she graduates from Dartmouth where she will be a freshman in the fall.

MBARI REVISITED

Sushi in America is becoming Americanized, the cultural and ritual traditions surrounding its service degraded and abandoned here.  Actually, the degradation of the sushi tradition has been going on for a long time.  Traditionally, hot towels were proffered before and after the meal because most folks ate sushi with their hands, so the custom was not only traditional but practical.  But Americans eat sushi with chopsticks (how gauche!), so who needs a hot towel?

It’s typical of how food from another culture, when presented here, is shorn of its traditions.  When’s the last time you were offered a salad after the main course in an Italian restaurant?  They do it in Italy all the time. Or how about a Chinese restaurant?  Soup, traditionally, should be served last there, but here in America you aren’t even offered that option.

Which brings me to today, when I stopped by at Odabro, my favorite Nigerian restaurant-bar in Orange, NJ, and had terrific egusi soup with goat meat and pounded yam, prepared by Ma, the cook in the kitchen.  (I always call female Nigerian cooks "Ma," just as I did there; you can never go wrong).  Ma brought me the food with a knife and fork, but at least she asked if I wanted hot water. I guess Odabro is getting Americanized and losing tradition, too.  I opted for the big stainless steel bowl of hot water and dug in with my right hand, preserving the cultural tradition I’d learned.

A few months ago, my friend Ore had a birthday party for himself (remember THAT Nigerian tradition), and it was a small, quiet affair with half a dozen of his friends, all except me ex-pat Nigerians who had not been home in years or decades.  I brought kola nuts and palm wine, and from the reception you’d have thought I’d brought winning lottery tickets.  Suddenly, old rituals surfaced, Yoruba prayers and invocations were remembered, and libations were poured, kola nut was broken.  Those two simple foods I brought rekindled cultural connections long forgotten.

My father always said that to know somebody (from another culture), eat his or her food.  The kind of food, the rituals and traditions surrounding it, are one of the strongest parts of many cultures, especially Third World cultures.  I hope you ate local food in Nigeria, not houseboy/cook stuff once prepared for the British.  The Yoruba had great praise songs about their food, and about pepper.  Breaking kola with a Nigerian was the fastest way to get to know him, especially if there was also some Star beer in the mix.

Food, even more than music or art, is an expression of culture.  Nothing brings me back to Nigeria, spiritually, better than a meal like that egusi soup I had today, with Star beer or palm wine.  If you want to really remember Nigeria, eat Nigerian.

A good place to check out this growing Africanization of jazz trend on CD is the album "Sam Newsome & Global Unity" (Columbia CK 69744).  Saxophonist Newsome, who concentrates on soprano sax (a very African sounding instrument) exclusively these days, has assembled a band with Ugonna Okegwo, a bassist from West Africa, plus an oud player, a percussionist (Gilad) playing dumbek, congas and clay pot, and singer Elizabeth Kontomanou, whose wordless vocals act as another lead instrument with the soprano sax.  Most tracks also feature additional percussionists.

The answer to Puzzler No. 2: Ossie Davis made a film of Wole Soyinka’s "Kongi’s Harvest." Soyinka himself played Kongi. Only Leslie Driscoll (Nigeria 27) had the right answer—and both parts at that. She’ll be receiving an African music CD.
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