New Telegraph

Buhari’s burial of gallant generals

 

The way we mourn tells something about our humanity. I read the Nigerian Army’s three-paragraph, late-night statement announcing the crash of an air force plane on Friday.

 

It said the Chief of Army staff, Lt. General Ibrahim Attahiru “and ten other officers” died in the crash. There was another follow-up three-paragraph statement from the Defence Headquarters.

 

It also said the Chief of Army Staff, Lt. General Ibrahim Attahiru and “his entourage” who were on an official trip, “were involved in an air mishap.” The statement prayed for the repose of the souls of General Attahiru “and other personnel on board.”

 

Those other officers, did they not have names? Why did the system not name those it described as “gallant and committed” officers? I asked a retired senior military officer.

 

And he replied to me: “by training and convention, we pick the most senior person among the lot and say ‘and 10 others.’ “What a convention! I exclaimed. Generals give orders which get people killed. Whether the order is “fight to the last man” or “hold until relieved,” it is death.

 

We were not there in their final moment, but we know those guys did not put themselves in that plane of death. They obeyed an order to do so – for their country.

 

So, why did we deny them a paragraph – or even just a clause, a mention – in those press statements? I could  imagine their children searching through those austere press releases for their dads’ names.

 

We failed them. The names had to wait till the moment of burial on Saturday in the Chief of Defence Staff’s address. What good is a convention if it has no place for decency and sensitivity? But, why would I pray to the gods to kill the cook who prepared a tasteless pot of soup?

 

What about the bigger chef who refused to cook any? We saw and heard the Generals, but where was/is our president? We lost the overall head of our army, three Brigadier-Generals and eight other officers in that plane crash. They did not die going to a disco party. They died on active, official duty. Did we officially mourn the dead the way it is done in climes ruled by sanity?

 

What death would qualify for a presidential address and a declaration of national mourning? Did we even fly Nigeria’s national flag at half-mast? We forgot. The dead were buried on Saturday. Did you see their boss, the Commander-in-Chief at the burial? Why was he absent? The funeral events were held in Abuja where the C-in-C lives. Even if virtually, he should have been there.

 

But, he wasn’t. He missed that moment of empathy – as he always does. Some governors were there, yes. But the dead were federal officers. Where was their employer? He was busy attending to himself. What adjective should one use for that presidential abstention from duty?

 

That Kaduna tragedy was not our first. It was not even the second. There was the Lockheed C-130H Hercules crash of September 26, 1992 that killed a plane-load of military officers.

Again, on September, 17, 2006, in Benue State, 13 very senior army and Air Force officers died in a plane crash.

 

They included Major-Generals J.O. Adesunloye, S.O. Otubu, J.O. Agbola, S.M Lemu, Nuhu Bamali, P.M Haruna, J.T.U Amedu and Bitrus Duniya. There were also Brigadier-Generals Braimah, M.B Bawa, Wing Commanders S.S Balogun, E.O Adekunle and Lieutenant-Colonel N.A Mohammed. They were buried in that same cemetery in Abuja on September 21, 2006. President Olusegun Obasanjo led the Service Chiefs at the event. He was not absent in person and in words.

 

So, why now? Why have things gone terribly wrong with us? Colin Powell, former US Secretary of State and fourstar General warned all leaders never to give the impression that they do not care for their troops. If they do, they lose their command.

We have them here. “Nigeria isn’t worth dying for. My dad and 171 other senior army officers died in that Ejigbo 1992 plane crash, as in, they died in active service. What has the Nigerian government done for the family? Promising and promising since 1992…I thank God for where I am today.”

 

That is the pinned tweet on Twitter handle @Virus_pluto. His experience represents how we treat those who serve us. Untimely death of a father (and mother) always wreaks tremendous alteration on destinies. Victims of such losses stand crippled unless God intervenes.

 

Those officers and men who died last Friday had plans for what they thought was their future; their wives and children had plans on them too. But then, the thing called armour always carries a chink; it is called fate.

 

Those soldiers had to fly to that space forever. They thought they had a caring country. But, dust to dust, the dead were buried, snubbed; left lonely and alone. If I had a brother among the dead, I would close my eyes and, forever, hate the system. How you bury the dead tells how well you would treat their memory.

 

That is why military funerals are state ceremonials in societies where pigs are not bejewelled in gold. The United States of America provides a model on how to treat those who signed to die for their country.

 

The US even has provisions beyond the soldier. The spouse or a dependent of an officer, at death, is also entitled to military funeral rites.

 

The service where the primary party served or serves provides a casket team (guard of honour) and a chaplain for the dead spouse or dependant of the officer. I know we would say it is a lie.

 

But it is true, the entries are there. Here, we remember spouses and children of our late soldiers when we think they are ripe for eviction from their barracks accommodation. How we treat those who die for us is a window to the degree of our wellness as a nation. And it is not about region, religion and/or religiosity.

 

• Lasisi writes from Abuja

Read Previous

Nigeria saves $40m yearly through local hosting

Read Next

Customers commend Polaris Bank’s VULTe

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *