/ 15 June 2008

A view from Nigeria

Although the xenophobic attacks were condemned worldwide, it wasn't the first time Africa has seen such violence.

Although the xenophobic attacks were condemned worldwide, it wasn’t the first time Africa has seen such violence.

May was the Nigerian migrant’s nightmare. As dozens were repatriated from Libya, many were targeted in the orgy of xenophobic violence that swept across four South African cities. But the response in Nigeria to the incidents in both countries was remarkably different. An important reason, of course, was the degree of violence that accompanied the latter case. But it’s much deeper than that. Nigeria takes South Africa seriously, not just in the sense of economic rivalry, but also because of historical ties that go back to the days of the liberation struggle when Nigeria enjoyed the status of a ”frontline state”.

Yet Nigerians have never considered themselves lucky. Whether in Zimbabwe, Angola or even Sierra Leone, where the country put itself at the disposal of other African countries, the outcome was a mixed feeling of being short-changed or betrayed. Long before the riots in South Africa I came across many Nigerians who had a feeling that they were overstaying their welcome. And that feeling starts from the South African High Commission in Lagos, where Nigerians pay much higher visa fees than citizens of any other country wishing to travel to South Africa.

The other side of the coin is that many South Africans I have met also think that apart from the legendary boisterousness of Nigerians, they probably compete with Mozambicans for the top spot on South Africa’s crime league table. This is not the kind of talk you hear at the diplomatic level. In the aftermath of the recent riots, for example, when Nigerian Vice-President Jonathan Goodluck met South African Deputy President Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka in Abuja the discriminatory visa fees was a hot topic. But both leaders spoke in diplomatese that expressed perplexity about the problem, while conveniently pretending that it would go away quietly. Yet echoes that all was not well between both countries rebounded strongly in the press.

Commentators used the harshest words in the book, from butchering to racism and from betrayal to black-on-black violence, to describe the ugly incidents, which claimed more than 42 lives and displaced thousands.

An editorial in the Nigerian Guardian, for example, warned that ”South Africa should remember that it does not have a monopoly of violence”, while Dele Momodu in his column for ThisDay praised the beauty of South Africa but railed at ”the butchers of Alexandra”.

The riots were disgraceful and it would be silly to find another name for a spade. For a country that holds itself as a rainbow nation and one whose political independence came at a high price to much of Africa and the decent world, a higher standard is naturally expected. Since the riots I have been so deeply smitten by shame that I cannot wear any of my three T-shirts emblazoned with South Africanness, which I used to show off proudly.

Yet in spite of my shame and disgust I have left a place in my heart to remember. What happened in Johannesburg, Alexandra, Durban and Cape Town did not happen for the first time.

In the 1960s Nigerians loved Ghana more than they loved their own country. There was a massive exodus of Nigerians to Ghana for some of the gold on the streets of what was then known as the Gold Coast. Sooner than later the Ghanaians couldn’t take it anymore. The backlash might not have been as grim as what the world witnessed in recent weeks in Johannesburg, but the locals hit the migrants where it hurt badly — their pockets. The Nigerians were expelled in their hundreds and many families were forced to flee with only the clothes on their backs.

The tables turned in the early 1980s when Ghana fell on hard times. An estimated one million Ghanaians flooded Nigeria (they were coming in at the rate of 300 a day), taking over jobs from shoeshining to teaching. It was only a matter of time before resentment turned into hostility and hostility into xenophobia. Public opinion forced the Shehu Shagari government to expel the Ghanaians under such hostile circumstances that many of them who were lucky to take anything at all with them did so in ragtag cellophane bags, now derisively known in Nigeria as ”Ghana-must-go”.

Most people still remember the experience of the Lebanese and Indians in Uganda under Idi Amin, while in Europe and America concerns about job losses, globalisation and immigrants are rife. It might not be the popular view, but I figure that the recent outbreak of violence in South Africa has more to do with the economy than with race, ingratitude or bad neighbourliness. With unemployment running at nearly 40% and the Mbeki government unable to deliver on its promise of a significant number of new jobs, it was only a matter of time before tensions would run over.

That does not excuse the madness, but it also doesn’t mean that South Africans love Nigerians any less than Nigerians loved Ghanaians in the 1980s. It speaks to how much work the Yar’Adua government must do if it is really serious about wanting more Nigerians to stay home. Not an easy job in a globalised world where the best talents follow money wherever it might be made. But if the government fixes infrastructure, especially power, and runs an open, transparent government, perhaps fewer Nigerians will be obliged to migrate at all costs and the risks and dangers associated with such adventures will naturally be reduced.

Azubuike Ishiekwene is the executive director of publications for Punch and is also a member of the board of the World Editors’ Forum.