Remembering 2015 Nigeria`s election as an Assistant Presiding Officer
Few of my friends and course mates still in University of Nigeria Nsukka (UNN), “loitering around”, trying to sort out some final result issues, had just applied for the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC)`s adhoc job as Assistant Presiding Officers (APOs) under the student category on the INEC portal. No one knew the pay. It was frenzy and exciting. A federal government job (anything federal government is considered by Nigerians as more lasting and bigger pay); this was one opportunity to claim federal government tag before the compulsory National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) comes along. I definitely needed cash that period, but most importantly, I was scared of my future. I knew I did well going by my CGPA of other years apart from that of final year`s, but fear was a tenant that came with some permanency despite my many self-assurances that success awaits me in life after UNN. Maybe part of my fear was that I did not have a sabificate. Amarom mmadu — knew no one influential, coupled with a very low social capital that cannot get me an audience with career door openers. My personality and background did not help too. I was too out-spoken for a woman, had a mind of my own, and resented ass-licking. I knew that those qualities and merit were almost akin to strangers in Nigeria, so you can imagine my bleakness in visualizing my future.
A week to the election rescheduled for March 2015, after being postponed from February, names were published. I was selected; I badly needed this experience to at least allow my CV gain weight in terms of job experience, even if it was only for 2 days.
A day to the Presidential election, the first before that of gubernatorial`s, in the afternoon, as the sun`s anger became more intense and its rays bit without mercy, I carried my backpack. I took a bike to the nearest junction where I will connect to a bus that will connect to another bus stop before reaching the old white-faded bungalow with rusty roof and crowded space where INEC`s signage stood alone in Ikem, the headquarter of Isi-uzo LGA in Enugu state, Eastern Nigeria.
Nsukka — where I had just left and recently written my final examinations for my Bachelors in UNN — was not so far away. It was actually a neighbouring Local Government, but like anything in Nigeria, the roads from it to Ikem were not certain as men of Nigeria`s police made a mince of the hardworking motorcyclists. These men on black berets opened saving accounts through extortion from the efforts of bike-men to eke their survival. Like the proverbial “when the hunter learns to shoot without missing, the bird learns to fly without perching”, the bikers had mapped all the neighbouring villages` pathways and alternative roads to the INEC office, avoiding the policemen plying on the main roads, and making the journey longer than necessary. It was sometime around 8:30 pm that the bike’s light beamed on the fading INEC signage with weak supporting poles in Ikem. People milled around. Old, young, students, hustlers, NYSC corps members, even civil servants, all waiting for the next instruction and where to sleep. It was really a long night. I was on jeans trouser and a relaxed pair of sneakers. Nsukka definitely prepared me well, but as the night dragged on, I realized it was not well enough.
One hour. Two hours. Crumbling had become a cacophony which can be multiplied and raised into five places in order to accurately quantify the anger of adhoc personnel that will conduct the election the next day. Who keeps waiting those willing to put their lives in line for other citizens to have opportunity to elect the country`s leaders amidst all the woes of Nigeria`s election. This impression got corrected that day. I learned that as much as Federal government seemed fair when compared to the far worse situations at States and LGAs, never to attach efficient time management and good welfare to their fair qualities. Even if I were about to die for Nigeria.
By 10:30 pm, buses began to drive into the open-spaced compound, and a stampede arose. It took the arrivals of more buses and several coarse shouts from the now-visible INEC officials manning the office for calm to be restored. They conveyed people to their different adhoc election collation centres. Mine was the College of Education, Eha-Amufu. Many kilometres away from Ikem, with dusty roads that blurred vision as the bus zoomed on.
Parked tightly in a Hiace bus that will make sardines in a Titus tin stare at us with sympathy, we arrived to a dark school, with security men pointing torchlight at us as the old black gates opened. The few rays of light that traveled some distance in the school came from our bus headlamps, giving a glimpse of the decayed structures of the school which first-timers like me held like a new infant recently birthed.
If keeping us waiting earlier was a shocker, not providing mattresses, pillows, and mosquito nets at our make-shift open rooms and halls of the school jolted me deeper at how things had failed. But I was excited about being exposed to these realities early, and equally sad. It was better for my illusion on anything federal government and INEC to clear on time than to live in a fool`s paradise; that exception will be made simply because a Chimezie Anajama was involved. Nigeria will truly and easily clear your doubts about rottenness and governance.
With swarm of mosquitoes buzzing around, I made my bed on the long dusty chairs of the College`s chapel, barren of windows and doors. My mom`s old wrapper did not do so much; but thankfully it spared me from pneumonia.
Next day.
Taking a cold bath in the chilly weather of Isi-uzo was a dead end. There was no other option apart from it or no bathe. I was even considered lucky to access water for bathe as no provision was made for it. It was a lazy old GeePee tank with debris below the water that rescued me. It was not until that morning that INEC permanent officials began to show up with their big bags and branded IECs. Breakfast was a luxury for the prepared. Pick-ups, buses, and motor cyclists began to arrive; some of them wore the green INEC vests. Obviously, for a federal commission that did not cater for her APOs and Presiding Officers the night before, why was I expecting them to have adequate vehicles to cater for our transportation to the various polling units where elections will be held? Their next practical alternative was to hire external and local transport. Even the ones hired were not enough, making the APOs and POs to reach Polling Units quite late. It was later that I realized that INEC did not entirely organize these external transports by themselves, but worked with party officials who reached out to their boys that owned bikes. Lol, election has not started but water has started being poured on the ground.
Aside this, the sharing of the electoral materials took some time, unnecessary time as even us, adhoc staff, could not understand the wait and delays from the main INEC officials. It was sometime around 11:30am that my team arrived at Agu-Amede, my polling unit — a farmers` settlement populated by aged farmers and few young people. I noted that even I as a young person might have migrated to a nearer township owing to the complete absence of infrastructure, assuming that was my ancestral town.
Agu-Amede was not just barren of very basic infrastructures, it also appeared forgotten, at least, the part my polling unit was located. Few miles from it was a path that led into Benue state. It was an outskirt town on the fringes of Enugu. So, no development actually happens there. They are forgotten until during election. They were two bikes that conveyed my team. Deeper and deeper it went, until I had a gnawing feeling that I won`t hear my mum`s voice again whom I had earlier assured around 7 am that I was resting in my brother`s room in Nsukka. Getting development to them like good roads and water and light can be pretty expensive as the nearest town to the settlement was many kilometres away. The idea of your bike (only bikes can navigate the pathways) spoiling along the road was as good as you sleeping in the bush with wild animals. I really thought that many villages and rural areas had some forms of development interventions in Nigeria until Agu-Amede happened to me. The bridges, reminded me of a xylophone, with planks representing its sound rows. Not just one, or two, or three bridges, but I counted up to seven xylophone bridges. My life depended on the skilfulness of the biker in navigating them. At that point, I understood that even INEC pickups or Tundra will never make it through. Maybe, the transport arrangement was not out of “i-scratch-your-back-you-scratch mine”.
But I also knew that there was no problem insurmountable once there was sincerity of purpose or political will from government. I knew if Enugu state government or Federal government were serious, they would have been resettled them or at least, build bridges and roads for them, which would`ve guaranteed the safety of their bicycles and bikes as they cross over. Moreover, what was the responsibility of the rural and infrastructural development arm of Ministry of Agriculture found at both the Federal and State levels? Like I said, provisions of basic infrastructures to rural communities such as Agu-Amede were not that herculean. If only corruption and true representation expected from the likes of Senator Gilbert Nnaji (federal congressman from the region) will allow.
In the face of all these, being posted to Agu-Amede was quite significant as my team had little choice but to do the bidding of whomever was calling the shots. Our transports, security, navigation, and way out of the settlement were in the hands of the political party-controlled bike-men that turned out to be party agents assigned to our polling unit which was orchestrated by our superiors. The stipulated security personnel that ought to be assigned to us as voting takes place, as indicated in INEC act, was never mentioned let alone assigned. We were naked security wise; basically sent to act the illusion that INEC conducted an election in Agu-Amede; not that there was any intention of conducting a free and fair election where INEC officials won`t be influenced covertly or overtly by factors beyond their control.
With tens of eager older faces and fragile bodies scrutinizing us, my team (a corps member — PO, and another man and I — APOs) began to set up in the compound of the only community basic school in the Agu-Amede with just two classes that never saw the spread of cement plaster, and barren floors. My Polling Officer began fiddling with the card reader. Malfunctioning — first blow. The electoral law then, and still is in the upcoming 2019 election as a result of President Buhari not assenting the Electoral Reform Bill on the ground that it would affect 2019 election negatively (please don`t hiss yet), was that a voter can still cast vote if his or her name was found voters` register, without being vouched by the newly introduced card readers in a case of a malfunction. The Presiding Officer noted this abnormality in the Incidence Report form. He also made efforts to call his superiors, but of course, Agu-Amede`s fate as a forgotten settlement did not also escape mobile phone network providers.
Voting began earnest as the lines began filling. Anticipation was high in my team that voting will finish as soon as we started as they were few people available. But 3pm later, we were still counting votes. By some miracle, the few faces we saw on arrival multiplied to hundreds more, with trickles of young people. I did my crowd control duty and guided the voters on the best voting practices. When voting ended, the crowd still milled around, which I secretly commended. I felt it was a depart from the norm across many parts of the country where voters cast their votes and depart, without waiting for the counting of their votes. This, many at times, gives manipulative electoral team the opportunity to manipulate results against the wishes of the voters. But my commendation appeared too early. Obviously, my naivety was at play.
It began with a woman, mid-aged, fair, and agile. She approached me that I should give her her share as she was about leaving. Confusion coloured my face. Respectfully, I asked her to repeat herself as I did not understand. She repeated, but this time, raising her voice for the benefit of others. My PO raised his head. She insisted that the man behind our transport arrangement — the leader of one of the popular parties in the community — had sensitized them when he and his team previously did door-to-door campaign in the community that the coming INEC officials (us) would find them “something” once they come out to cast vote in favour of his candidate.
Was it hilarious, owing that I was terribly hungry, with little cash, no kiosk on sight, no provision for refreshment, adding to all of my terrible experience since yesterday? Honestly, my cheek was about bloating up. But can I laugh? Survival instinct and decency prevailed. Five minutes later, what appeared like a joke snow-balled into a protest. Full-blown. With feisty words, in Igbo, shouted, demanding money from us.
One of the things that I picked up easily in my Introduction to Sociology during my first year at UNN was Collective Action. In it, there was a veil of anonymity when an action is taken by a group. No one can be held responsible for that action. Most times, there is no consequence for any harmful activity undertaken by such group. That is the base of many violence protests with no accountability demanded by the groups involved. Also, there is a new spirit that emboldened individuals once they collectively take an action. A once timid individual can confidently light a tire on the head of another because he is in the company of those that will shout him on to light the fire.
Armed with this, I knew that protest at a Polling Unit was BAD. A protest at a Polling Unit without security officials for protection was DANGEROUS. And violence at a Polling Unit where your life and logistics depended on the benevolence of the people and crooked party agents was DREADFUL.
We placated with the people, taking time to explain the roles of INEC staff in a polling unit; the party leader involved came too. His earlier story to them changed and the anger of the people thundered to him. Like a seasoned grassroots manipulator and a good political ass-licker who had gotten what he wanted from them, he threatened them stoically. Obviously, many of them were his mates, with some of them appearing older than him, but like a one-eyed man in the community of the blind, with no competition, he had the power, and many of them knew that too well. Some dispersed afterwards, others hung on, still expecting.
I silently cursed INEC for not taking voters` education serious; especially in communities such as this, where illiteracy was king, and vulnerability, queen.
As the people left, he consulted with agents from other parties. They shared a ratio among themselves before approaching us as we bent on our work, sorting and recording. His newly-found power flexing came down on us fast. His words were laced with subtle threats. The bike-men, joined by another set of muscled men, gazed at us with obvious ferocity, their pupils on a standstill, which seemed to warn us to not fall victims of disobedience. Hundreds of PVCs without their owners present, came out of the party leader`s pocket. Interestingly, many of them were on the voter`s register.
“Your superiors know, you be Naija o. Or is like you don`t want to leave here in good health?” He threatened openly as my PO refused.
The sun has severally changed position. Evening was gradually slipping on. Birds chirped but not as beautiful as earlier. Wind had blown dead leaves from a near shade tree which littered where we sat.
The PO called us for a meeting. It came as no surprise to me He placed the cards on our table and asked us to make a decision. The other APO egged him to accept since our safety was at a risk.
“Since INEC can send us here without security officials and even entrust our logistics in their care — party agents for that matter, I knew that this will come. Did you notice how lonely these roads were that they can conveniently commit murder and disappear and nobody will trace our bodies and he is already threatening us? The people are already angry. Whatever it will take for me to leave here, please do. I just want to go home. I have had enough of the Nigerian mess called election. The day we are ready for elections, it will be written all over INEC and they will make provisions for adequate logistics and security that will embolden staff to do their work appropriately.” I said.
The man smiled heartily, showing his tobacco stained dentition which had probably crushed hundreds of kolanut`s lobes as he lives from the proceeds of his grassroots` deceit.
Epilogue
We reached Eha-Amufu around 9pm. Everywhere buzzed on. Generator was running and light illuminated brightly, escaping from the windows of the hall used by senior INEC officials for final result computation from the area. Different POs and their teams were rounding off their paperwork and submitting their results. Ours were almost done. Few minutes later, our team submitted. I asked other teams of their experience. Reports that were made by some of them on abnormalities were flinged aside in the way a girl does to a non-performing boyfriend. It appeared that the election in Isi-Uzo LGA was staged. Probably that was how it was in other parts of the country where there were one-eyed men in every community that flexed soft and hard power on the people, with INEC turning blind eyes, under-equipping her ad-hoc staff, putting staff` lives in grave danger, leaving them naked to fend for themselves security wise, leaving the corps-members who are perpetual POs to sleep in the open, with little welfare provisions, and failing rural communities such as Agu-Amede even before the election by not sensitizing them on the roles of INEC, and their illiteracy used against them. The good ones soiled in the process.
Few weeks later, I went back to Ikem to collect my stipend. N16,000. It was not a bountiful pay but I had a bountiful experience that still energizes me towards my quest for a great Nigeria operating on principles of good, participatory and inclusive governance where one-eyed men would be over-run and vital public institutions like INEC will truly be strong and independent which will allow the people make good choices of leaders that will provide development for them and meet their needs.
I look forward that there won`t be another tale similar to mine in 2019. But it seemed 2019 election came early. Feb 15th, 2019, new tales of disappointment and neglect from INEC have been created as the presidential election scheduled for Feb 16th, 2019, have just been cancelled by INEC in the early morning of the election. With the heavy part of human cost of the postponement borne by new adhoc staff of INEC.
About the author
Chimezie Anajama is a young sociologist and a development practitioner at Nwuliareads Initiative and Policy Alert. She is currently completing her Honours program in Development Studies at University of the Western Cape, South Africa. She is a 2019 Mandela Rhodes Foundation scholar. Tweet her @MsChimezie