The Accidental Public Servant Page 2

  observations about context and events that vastly improved the content and narration of the story. I am

  particularly grateful to her and her family for their affection and belief in me during those challenging

  years.

  Issam Darwish is a person of rare kindness, and not surprisingly a close friend of my brother Bashir.

  Issam provided the apartment in Dubai from which most of this book was researched, written and re-

  written over the three year period. I am very grateful to him. Omar Ibrahim El-Beloushi was my

  sponsor and business partner in Dubai in those difficult days, and I remain appreciative of his support

  and encouragement.

  My ever-reliable brother Idris Othman, my Nigerian lawyers Bamidele Aturu, Abdul-Hakeem

  Mustapha, Kanu Agabi, and Akin Olujimi, collaboratively defended my name and reputation in

  Nigeria during my exile and continued when I returned home. Without the support and encouragement

  of these friends and distinguished professionals, I might have given up on the project even before

  starting.

  Writing does not come naturally to me, as I am more comfortable with numbers than words. Ulysses

  De La Torre and James Kimer helped get me started by recording the series of stories, interviews and

  answers to questions derived from my Aspen outline that constituted the primary foundation for this

  book. My lawyers abroad, Jared Genser and Bob Amsterdam, and the Washington publicist Riva

  Levinson, coaxed me out of bouts of lethargy to keep writing, even when under incessant attack by the

  Yar’Adua-Jonathan administration.

  I am forever thankful to God for a few friends that have been pillars of support both in and out of

  public office. This circle of friends, brothers and sisters, particularly Idris Othman, Tijjani

  Abdullahi, Dr. Angela Onwuanibe, Husaini Dikko, Balarabe Abbas Lawal, Sagir Hamidu, Alhaji

  Aminu Saleh, Alhaji Ahmadu Chanchangi, Pastor Sarah Omakwu, Kabir Shuaibu, Dr. Goke

  Adegoroye, Osita Chidoka, Tanimu Yakubu, and Oby and Chinedu Ezekwesili took turns keeping an

  eye on me and my family members. I am grateful to them and their families for the love and care,

  without which this book would not have been written.

  Idris Othman, Uba Sani, Osita Chidoka, Husaini Dikko, Hakeem Belo-Osagie and Jimi Lawal

  supported me materially and emotionally during these most difficult and challenging years. They were

  all unquestioning in their loyalty and belief in me even when I began to doubt my ability to withstand

  the viciousness and vindictiveness of the Nigerian government. Tijjani and Jimi also read and re-read

  several drafts of the book, contributed to the editing and reminded me of many forgotten events that

  took place in the BPE and FCT that ended up enriching the book.

  Pastor Tunde Bakare, egbon mi atata , deserves special mention because he became another elder

  brother virtually from the first moment we met in March 2010. He has been a source of strength,

  inspiration, and spiritual and material support since then, while also leading me into activism with the

  Save Nigeria Group and into opposition politics with the Congress for Progressive Change. I am

  grateful that he became an integral part of my life in many ways, and for writing the foreword to this

  book.

  Dele Olojede and I met face to face for the first time at an Aspen Institute seminar in 2006, and

  bonded instantly. More than anyone, Dele encouraged me to write pieces for his magnificent

  newspaper, NEXT, and also this story as a necessary public service. Dele also helped read and re-

  read the earliest drafts, undertaking extensive editing of the drafts, making suggestions to improve

  clarity and consistency that is the hallmark that earned him a Pulitzer Prize in Journalism. Whenever I

  got discouraged about writing, Dele was there to remind me that my story needs telling to make our

  country a better place. I am not sure of this, but I sure hope Dele is right that this book helps in a small

  way to make our public service and politics even a little better. He also graciously accepted my

  request to write the afterword for the book. My heartfelt appreciation goes to this true friend, brilliant

  writer and passionate patriot.

  Peter Akagu Jones has been my assistant and personal administrator before, during and after my

  public service years. He kept my diaries, correspondence and the official files, and meticulous notes

  of conversations and meetings. Without Peter’s patience, intelligence and dedication, the level of

  detail and accuracy required for this book would never have been attainable. In his absence, Umar

  Farouk Saleh took over many of these roles with ease. My close circle of family and friends including

  Mohammed Salihu, Japheth Omojuwa, Mohammed Bello El-Rufai, Tijjani Abdullahi, Hadiza Bala

  Usman, Amina Othman, James Bura Mamza, Roz Ben-Okagbue, Dr. Omano Edigheji, Salisu Suleiman

  and Ajayi Olatunji Olowo all helped review earlier drafts and gave me their frank and varied

  perspectives which led to extensive rewriting and changes to the script. I am grateful to all of them.

  Embarking on a project such as writing about experiences in government is risky. Even those

  involved may end up disowning or denying one’s version of events. Asue Ighodalo, Husaini Dikko,

  Nuhu Ribadu, Oby Ezekwesili, Dele Olojede and Muyiwa Adekeye gave extensive and often

  conflicting points of view on the effort which resulted in this book being written. Some encouraged

  me to write while others were far more cautious. I am grateful to all of them, but in the end take full

  responsibility for the decision to go ahead with the story as well as any errors contained in the book.

  My faithful and remarkable media adviser Muyiwa Adekeye deserves special mention. He not only

  kept me out of trouble in the public space many times, but suggested many exclusions and inclusions

  for this story. He also gave insights into what public expectations are regarding a book of this nature,

  read the script several times and made excellent improvements. I am particularly grateful to him.

  Many friends and white knights in the media and public commentariats were helpful in various ways

  throughout my tenure and the interesting years after I left office. I am particularly grateful to Dele

  Olojede, Kadaria Ahmed, Kayode Akintemi, Musikilu Mojeed, Omoyele Sowore, Dr. Pius

  Adesanmi, Philip Adekunle, Idang Alibi, Sam Nda Isaiah, Sam Amuka-Pemu, Gbenga Adefaye,

  Nduka Obaigbena, Segun Adeniyi, Kayode Komolafe, Ijeoma Nwogwugwu, Constance Ikokwu,

  Emeka Izeze, Martins Oloja, Emmanuel Asiwe and Yomi Odunuga for their support at all times.

  The early ideas of writing about my years in the FCT came from one of my special assistants in the

  FCT Administration, Amina Salihu, and two journalists, Shamsudeen Adeiza and Tunji Ajibade.

  Shamsudeen went ahead to write and publish his work that will soon be ready for presentation, along

  with another book on my years in FCT, by Tunji Ajibade. The passion of these two author-journalists

  pushed me to try writing my own version of events not only to cover the FCT years but partly to

  include some of the BPE years. I want to thank them for the inspiration and encouragement to write

  this book, and their willingness to delay presentation of their works until this book is completed.

  My first literary attempt would have ended up as another incomplete project but for the intervention

  of Chief Joop Berkhout and his energetic young son, George Berkhout. The two publishing pa
rtners

  pushed and encouraged me to complete a rough draft and then handed that over to two outstanding

  professionals who polished and rendered my modest effort into a readable material. Professor

  Ismaila Abubakar Tsiga was my senior in Barewa College and FCT colleague who offered to help do

  an initial review of the draft. His experience as an author, public servant and teacher substantially

  improved the context and content of the book. This was further sharpened and made clearer by the

  awesome editing skills of Safari Book’s editorial manager, Seni Pinheiro. Dele Olojede then

  undertook another review and editing of the improved work. If this book turns out to be readable and

  sensible, it is the result of the surgery done by Professor Tsiga, Seni Pinheiro, and Dele Olojede,

  even if all the errors remain mine. I thank them for trying to make a writer out of the applied

  mathematician that I think I am!

  Nasir Ahmad El-Rufai

  Abuja, Nigeria

  October 2012

  I n t r o d u c t i o n

  “The Accidental Public Servant” was not the original title for this book. The phrase was used by a

  Harvard Kennedy School publicist who interviewed me as part of the 50th Anniversary of the Mason

  Fellows Programme and I liked it. I thought it a fitting description of someone who never

  purposefully set out to be a public servant, but rather fell into it through a series of accidents – strokes

  of luck met with fortuitous preparedness – that landed me in the stormy waters of Nigerian politics

  and governance. Nearly nine years after the first accident, I left public service as a well-known

  minister and loyalist of President Olusegun Obasanjo and since May 2007, I have gone through a

  roller coaster period of surviving attacks on my person and family, sustained smear campaigns, death

  threats, persecution at home and abroad through withdrawal of my Nigerian citizenship, malicious

  prosecution and involuntary exile, on the one hand. On the other hand, I have received awards and

  recognitions for my service, particularly for bringing order into the chaos that was Abuja, our

  nation’s capital. All these constitute major departures from what I thought was my life plan.

  As a child, when I first conceived of the idea of what I might want to be when I grow up, my role

  model at the time was the single native authority policeman in my village of Daudawa, in Katsina

  state. What called my attention to him was the uniform. The first time I ever saw a thief was when the

  policeman, passing through the village, single-handedly apprehended him as he was breaking into

  people’s houses to steal their belongings. My admiration for his valour made me fall in love with the

  job and the uniform. Then at about the age of six I was circumcised and I met the village doctor. He

  was not actually a doctor, but a paramedic, yet he looked so clean and professional in his crisp, clean

  and starched white uniform, and was so kind, that I believed I had to be a doctor when I grew up. As

  I grew a little older, I realized that the agricultural officer who was the head of the local agricultural

  settlement and who lived in the Daudawa Government Reservation Area (GRA) was not only my

  father’s boss, but the most important man in town, so then I wanted to be an agricultural officer, and

  then at the outbreak of the civil war that saw two of my brothers join the army, and another the air

  force, I thought of joining the armed forces. This series of aspirations and adjustments remained a

  regular feature of my youth, and I guess, is typical of most people of my generation. What I did not

  realize then was that it would be assignments, never sought for, rather than ambition that would

  define my private and public life.

  There were other public service and government figures featuring somewhat prominently in my

  upbringing, but what loomed even larger was the fact of growing up poor. We were many children

  under my father's roof in Daudawa – eight siblings growing up together and six other siblings that had

  grown up and gone on to establish their own families. The first time I got a ‘hand-me-down’ pair of

  shoes was when I was six years old. I got my own first pair of new shoes when I was eight. Until

  today, I feel more comfortable barefooted than in socks and shoes!

  As a result of these privations, I was driven to achieve financial independence as quickly as I could.

  In an environment of poverty, one learns quickly that financial independence is essential to preserving

  one’s dignity. Another seminal event from that period of my life was the death of my father, which

  also occurred when I was about eight years old. His final words to me were about the importance of

  education, specifically that my success in life would be determined by how seriously I pursued

  knowledge. So I worked hard and took my studies seriously because I was led by my father to believe

  that it would be the key to preserving one’s dignity and self-respect.

  On the way to achieving that goal, a path that initially led me into the private sector as a consulting

  quantity surveyor, a funny thing happened. I realized that in order for the private sector to flourish, the

  public sector needed a certain minimum level of functionality. What made this thinking novel to me

  was that for the longest time, like others aspiring to middle-class status in Nigeria, I thought that if I

  just made enough money, I could buy all the things I needed. If the public electricity supply was

  inefficient, I would just buy a diesel-powered generator. If the public water supply was not working,

  I would simply construct my own household borehole and install a water treatment plant. However,

  there came a point when I realized that even if one had those, one cannot build one’s own gasoline

  refinery. When one woke up one morning, as we did in 1996, to find that all of a sudden there was no

  gasoline for the electric generator and the cars – and this, in a country that was the ninth largest

  exporter of crude oil in the world – a whole new level of thinking became inevitable. To provide

  social services: security of life and property, decent schools, health facilities, and even a financial

  system - required collective action, some level of collaboration between individuals. To provide or

  enable the creation of functional infrastructure – like transportation, communications and electricity

  networks, for example – a strong and effective public service was essential.

  Twice before getting to that point, I had declined invitations in 1989 and 1991 to work in the public

  service of my state of residence - Kaduna. Once I came to this point of realization however, I made

  up my mind that if I got another opportunity to work in the public sector, I would not only accept, but

  would do nothing but my very best. As it turned out, the very attributes that drove me to be financially

  independent early in life -- my dedication to ongoing study and education, and honesty not just in

  dealing with others but also with myself -- were the selfsame attributes that ultimately earned me the

  invitation to public service at the national level.

  Certain people hold the opinion that I am feisty, argumentative and antagonistic – they formed those

  views about my personality based on media reports. Contrary to these perceptions however, it is

  neither intentional nor deliberate. I just believe in being honest with myself and with others and in

  speaking my mind frankly and preserving m
y dignity. In a society that now prizes sycophancy,

  hierarchy and tradition at the cost of courtesy, frankness and pragmatism, perhaps such characteristics

  are anomalous. Frankly however, I do not know any other way of being.

  I have felt the calling to write this book for a few different reasons, all of near-equal importance. One

  is to make the case that public service is important - a necessary thing for every well-meaning

  Nigerian to consider in order to set our nation on the right track, so that it may attain the potential we

  all know it is capable of realizing. For developing countries like Nigeria, where institutions are weak

  and the capacity for people to help themselves is limited, a responsive public service is vital – it

  gives honest people the minimum base for them to lift themselves up by their bootstraps. There are

  certain things that an individual cannot achieve single-handedly; hence the mission of the public

  servant is really to solve collective, public problems.

  Another reason I am writing this book is to convey a message to those already aspiring to a career in

  public service. To them I say: be prepared to be tested in ways impossible for you to foresee. What is

  practicable in one situation will not be possible in another situation, but there will be no shortage of

  voices surrounding you aiming to distract or persuade you from that fact. Although no reasonable

  person would disagree with the idea that the public sector can do with better management, more

  efficient processes and more transparent procurement of goods and services, quantifying the success

  or failure of any given initiative is by nature far more difficult in this sector than its application in the

  private sector.

  A third reason I am writing this is a message for those that have opted out – the Nigerian Diaspora.

  My message to those of you in this category is very simple: The Nigerian public service needs you,