It is an irony of fate that the same building where Dele Giwa, the founding Editor-in-Chief of Newswatch Magazine, was bombed to death 23years old now houses a hospital, reports Sunday Oguntola.
Time was 11.40am. It was a sunny Sunday that October 19, 1986. 1980s Nigeria’s most outspoken journalist, Dele Giwa, was at home having breakfast. Rather than eat on the dinning table, he chose his study, ostensibly to also spend the few minutes reading. On hand was Kayode Soyinka, the then London Bureau chief of the magazine. Giwa’s 19-year-old son, Billy walked in with a parcel in a light brown envelope given to Musa Zibo, the security guard by a 504 car without registration number, which zoomed off after delivery. The parcel had a seal of the Nigerian Coat of Arms with the inscription "From the office of the C—in-C" on one side on the top. Dele Giwa’s name was typewritten on the parcel with an instruction "nobody except the addressee should open it".
Having received similar letters from the presidency, Giwa hurriedly placed the parcel on his lap, after remarking "this must be from Mr. President". No sooner had Giwa opened the parcel that a loud explosion occurred. Within seconds, Dele Giwa’s stomach and thigh had been scattered into pieces. The bombed journalist was rushed to First Foundation Medical centre, Ikeja where he was pronounced dead. The then military government of General Ibrahim Babangida was widely speculated as the brain behind the dastardly act that marked the first assassination via letter bomb in Nigeria. The assassination took place at Dele Giwa’s private residence on 25 Talabi Street, Ikeja.
Last Wednesday, our correspondent went in search of what has become of the building where the assassination took place. Talabi Street, off Adeniyi Jones in Ikeja, is by all means an exclusive estate. No doubt about it that residents must be rich and powerful. A metal bar close to the main gate ensures entry and departure are monitored as well as curtailed. Had this been there 24 years old, maybe the merchants of death that delivered the deadly parcel would have been arrested. After the heavy downpours in the early part of the day, every where was silent as our correspondent exchanged greetings with the two soldiers on guard and made for the estate.
Parents walked in and out of a private school to pick their wards after closing hours immediately after the main gate. Other than them, the estate was deserted. Since the building is situated on house no 25, there was no doubt one had a little way to go. Walking into the sharp bend, it became obvious one was only a few houses away. Keeping an eagle eye on the houses and their numbers, one walked slowly to avoid passing by the targeted building with no notice. Suddenly, house no 23 came into view. Beside it is house no 24 with an unpainted gate, the only one on the street. Where then is House no 25? For the first time in almost five minutes, two persons were seen seated and chatting by the roadside.
With house no 25 missing, it became wise to ask the two middle-aged persons for description. One is in military uniform, meaning he is a security guard. Another is in mufti but also looks every inch a security guard. After exchange of pleasantries and calculated friendly moves, the atmosphere was now suitable to ask for house 25. "25? I don’t know where that is. Why not check further?" the uniformed guy replied. Could it be that the building has been evacuated? It’s been 23 long years. But then, there is no vacant space, confirming the suspicion of evacuation. The house must be somewhere. Why not lead these men into one’s real mission so that they could at least help out?
Forcing a smile, our correspondent asked, "do you know the house where Dele Giwa was bombed on this street? The question finally came intended to be as harmless and as non-threatening as possible. With a trained soldier on the other side, such weighty question, harmlessly as it was meant to sound, was bound to attract curiosity. After few minutes of explanations, the uniformed man pointed, "that is the building". The one-storey building sits on a plot of land. The fresh white paint leaves one in no doubt it has undergone recent renovation. It was hard to know it if it is still residential or not. The frontage has no signpost to indicate otherwise. But then, the design convinces one it has to be used for commercial purpose. If it is now commercial, how come there is no security guard or a signpost around?
To ascertain the true state of things, one approached the building. The sophisticated main door opened and showed an exquisite reception. Before one could take in the beauty of the reception, a unformed, private security guard surfaced. Concerned on how to beat the man to see the right persons, two ladies thankfully showed up. One of them who said she is Gloria finally let out the cat. "We run an hospital here," she stated on what takes place in the building. How come there are no patients, nurses or human movements? "We just moved here. We have our headquarters elsewhere and we are just working here skeletally," she added.
Perhaps sensing she was letting out too much, she suddenly became cold, saying "I cannot tell you any more. You will have to go to our headquarters to get whatever you need". The note of finality in her voice left one in no doubt a brick wall had been created. So, why not proceed to the headquarters of Mother and Child Hospitals on Adeniyi Jones Ikeja for further reactions? Meanwhile, it would be nice to gauge residents of the estate on how it feels to live on the street where unprecedented assassination took place. Being working hours, one had to contend with passers-by and security guards. A guard who said he is Sule simply shrugged and said, "that one no be my wahala". Pressed further, he suddenly switched over to Standard English, "it is nothing really. Thank God, I did not witness it so it does not affect me".
Rose, who was taking her boss’ son home from school, did not know Dele Giwa was assassinated on the street until that afternoon. "Is that so? Eh, I no know at all. That is interesting then". Now that she knows, how would she react to the knowledge? "I go pretend I no hear you. I no want anything to disturb me". With no human beings on sight for further reactions, it was time to visit the headquarters of Mother and Child Hospitals. Sandwiched among other commercial buildings, the hospital was a beehive of activities when our correspondent arrived. Quick introductions earned one a waiting seat for the Medical Director, Dr Olarenwaju.
Told that "a certain Mr. Sunday from The Nation Newspapers is waiting to see you sir" as he emerged from the consulting room, the averagely-built doctor retorted, "Oh, that is interesting. I am also Sunday". Hope of having an extended conversation evaporated when he courteously disclosed that he was going to attend a naming ceremony. "I am a pastor and the father’s business comes first," he informed. But the distance between the reception and the parking lot can be utilised for few comments. He wasn’t indisposed to this, as long as it did not keep him any minute. So, is he aware the building where his hospital’s extension sits was where Dele Giwa was murdered?
After a long thought, he said, "I got to know that recently after I had bought the building". How then does that make him feel? "Well, it is unfortunate; I mean the incident but there is nothing one can do now. The place should have been an historical centre". As if reading one’s mind, he went on, "but that is not the first building where murders had taken place. I mean people die everywhere. People die in houses and people still live there. People die in hospitals and you still save some in that same place. You won’t because of that abandon the building or hospital. So, it is really nothing". But the gracious Dr Olarenwaju had more information about the building before he made for the owner’s seat of his chauffeured-jeep, "I bought it from a company, I think ACA, an accountant firm owned by foreigners. They moved to the Island and were not interested in working around here again. We have been renovating for over a year now".
It is certainly an irony that the same building where Dele Giwa was bombed to death is now a hospital that will save many lives. In other places, maybe it would have been turned to a monument. But Dele Giwa is likely to be satisfied in death that on that same address where he was murdered gruesomely by suspected state agents at 39, has become a place where several lives would be saved from untimely deaths.
