Ken Saro-Wiwa could not believe what happened to him. His life and eventual tragic end serve as a poignant lesson: Do not sabotage your own people's efforts towards their liberation. Saro-Wiwa, a prominent Ogoni activist and environmentalist, never believed that General Sani Abacha would confirm his death sentence. From revelations made during the Oputa panel hearings, it is clear that on the day of his execution, he was unable to face his fate with fortitude, expecting his sentence to be commuted at the last moment.
When they came for him, Saro-Wiwa repeatedly questioned whether Abacha was aware of his imminent execution. Resisting being led to the execution point, he protested, pleading for more time as he awaited a reprieve that never came. To calm him, the officers showed him the execution order signed by Abacha, but Saro-Wiwa frantically denounced it as a fake, demanding an immediate audience with Abacha. The officer commanding the squad, a junior officer, informed him that the only report his superiors would accept was the report of his death.
Desperately, Saro-Wiwa tried to remind his executioners of his close relationship with Abacha, recalling the afternoons they spent playing tennis at the 2nd Artillery Brigade in Port Harcourt during the 1970s, and the pleasant evenings they shared. He lamented that during the Ogoni protests, he had expected Abacha to call him based on their old times and ask him what the Ogoni people would have accepted.
As his pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears, Saro-Wiwa's desperation grew. "Oh God," he screamed, "let my pleas work." His eyes filled with tears as he grappled with the reality that today might be his last day on earth. He questioned what crimes he had committed—simply asking for his people to have a share of the wealth derived from their land, land that no longer supported farming or fishing due to oil spillage.
Mistaking the officer's stern demeanor for contemplation of pity, Saro-Wiwa continued to plead. Any independent observer would have concluded that he deserved pity and more. His efforts during the Nigerian Civil War had shortened the duration and saved thousands of Nigerian soldiers' lives. Saro-Wiwa had organized guides who helped Nigerian soldiers infiltrate through Etche and other strategic points, eventually cutting off Biafran soldiers.
For his contributions, Saro-Wiwa was appointed the Civilian Administrator of the port city of Bonny. However, this bit of history became a bone of contention. He believed he had an equal stake in Nigeria, having risked his life to help defeat those who were his neighbors. He argued that the spoils of war, particularly oil, should benefit his people, without whose efforts it would have been impossible to subdue Biafra.
Despite his contributions, Saro-Wiwa's erstwhile partners in conquest believed they had adequately rewarded him with his administrative positions. They thought he should stay away from oil matters, regardless of its origins. Posterity will judge who was right, but it is clear that Saro-Wiwa's requests were not unreasonable. As the saying goes, "the child who pounds the pepper is entitled to a share."
Saro-Wiwa's fate was sealed the day he questioned the distribution of oil wealth. His execution served as a grim warning to others from oil-producing communities: do not dare to ask about "our oil." At the execution point, the commanding officer gave his orders, and Saro-Wiwa was lifted, struggling and protesting until he was tied up and killed.
When asked about Saro-Wiwa's body during the Oputa panel, a soldier revealed that it was completely dissolved in acid. This brutal end underscores the lengths to which those in power would go to silence dissent.
Ken Saro-Wiwa's legacy is marked by his struggle for the rights of his people and the environmental devastation caused by oil extraction. It is also marred by the accusations of betrayal against him. Saro-Wiwa, like many Niger Delta youths, had studied on scholarships from Eastern Nigeria, including his time at Government College Umuahia, funded by Michael Okpara. His later actions, perceived as betrayals, haunted him until his death.
In a tragic twist, Saro-Wiwa's son, Ken Jr., also died young, suffering a stroke in London on October 18, 2016, at the age of 47. This added another layer of sorrow to the Saro-Wiwa family's history.
Before his arrest, Saro-Wiwa sought intervention from Chukwuemeka Odimegwu-Ojukwu, the very leader he had once opposed. This ironic plea for help was met with indifference, symbolized by Ojukwu's dismissive "Okokorokoooo." Saro-Wiwa's life, from his scholarships to his tragic end, is a complex tale of loyalty, betrayal, and the harsh realities of political struggle.
By Chinedu Jideofo-Ogbuagu
