By Kola Johnson/
Twenty-nine years ago, on November 11, 1995, Nigerian politicians gathered at the Eko Hotel for a monumental summit.
That historic event marked the first major convergence of political figures from diverse party backgrounds and affiliations since the annulment of the June 12, 1993, election, in which billionaire business mogul MKO Abiola was the popularly acclaimed winner. That day, optimism soared, reaching euphoric heights.
The occasion commanded the full aura of a grand event, with notable figures like Alex Ekwueme, Bola Ige, Olu Falae, Balarabe Musa, and Abubakar Rimi in attendance. For me, it was also an opportunity to meet leaders like Iyorchia Ayu, Isiaka Adeleke, Ojo Madueke, Senator Ayo Fasanmi, and former Governor Michael Otedola, whom I had met previously at the Epe Lions Club Gala Night in 1988.
Among the distinguished attendees, one figure stood out—Yusuf Bala Usman, the fiery Marxist intellectual whose activism at Ahmadu Bello University, alongside Jamaican-born Patrick F. Wilmot, had shaken the foundations of Northern Nigeria’s feudal strongholds. Their radical stance eventually led to Wilmot’s deportation, an attempt by the ruling elites and military leader Ibrahim Babangida to curb Usman’s influence.
Despite a limp caused by a stroke from a car accident, Usman moved with spirited energy. I vividly recall Dr. Ibrahim Tahir, a scholar and sociologist, enthusiastically calling his name, “Balaa! Balaa!” from a distance, signaling admiration for his resilience.
The highlight of the event was the arrival of NADECO patriarch, Chief Adekunle Ajasin. The crowd’s rapturous applause and jubilant reception underscored his significance. His keynote address was a passionate indictment of Nigeria’s journey from a “big black hope” to the disappointing reality of a “big black sheep.” When he finished, Bola Ige and Olu Falae escorted the frail but indomitable Ajasin, clad in a white Agbada, to a blue Mercedes Benz—marking his last major public appearance before his passing.
However, just hours after this hopeful gathering, the situation took a dark turn as General Abacha’s agents struck.
A gang of armed, menacing “Area Boys” emerged, wielding weapons and wreaking havoc. Banners were torn, flower pots smashed, and security overpowered, triggering a chaotic scramble for safety among attendees. I recall the panicked escape of Arthur Nzeribe and Doyin Okupe, who narrowly dodged an attack. Barry Ade Salawu, unfortunately, was not as lucky, sustaining a head injury.
Alex Ekwueme’s imposing figure posed no hindrance to his own dash for safety. The chaos forced other prominent figures to abandon the summit, transforming the once-buzzing Eko Hotel into a scene of eerie quietness, comparable to a deserted graveyard.
A second attempt to reconvene was made but lacked the vigor and participation of key figures, whose absence underscored the success of Abacha’s intimidation tactics. The initial soul and momentum of that gathering—seen as a catalyst for Nigeria’s democratic evolution—had been stripped away by fear.
November 12, 1995, however, saw a new chapter unfold in Yaba, Lagos. This bustling center of commerce and academia was transformed into a militarized zone, as Abacha’s forces took up strategic positions, prepared to stifle the planned NADECO rally. Journalists, including myself, watched from a safe distance, wondering if anyone would dare to show up.
Around 10:30 a.m., a man emerged alone, dressed in a cream-colored jacket and trousers. His resolve was unmistakable: it was Dr. Frederick Fasehun, defying the orders to halt the rally. In a rare show of courage, he confronted the military officers, challenging their attempts to suppress free expression in what was supposed to be a modern Nigeria.
Despite the overwhelming threat, Fasehun stood his ground and delivered a rousing address, right there in Yaba. His audacity inspired other leaders, and one by one, figures like Ayo Adebanjo, Kudirat Abiola, Femi Falana, and Gani Fawehinmi joined the protest.
That day, Dr. Frederick Fasehun would be remembered as the man who defied Abacha’s forces and lit the torch of resistance. This defiant march from Yaba to Oyingbo, through Herbert Macaulay Street, became a powerful symbol of resilience.
For me, November 12, 1995, will always be significant. Fasehun’s bravery that day exemplified the courage that democracy demands. While his legacy might later encounter controversies, his bold stand in Yaba remains a powerful testament to the spirit of resistance.
Kola Johnson is a writer and journalist.
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