• Friday, March 29, 2024
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The Nigerian army at the Edinburgh Tattoo

Nigerian military

Edinburgh is a city that occupies a place of special affection in your heart, and in the hearts of your family. Living in that city, where most of the prominent events revolve around the Castle – an ancient hilltop redoubt with a lot of history, and Princes Street, on its perimeter, where all the high street shops are located, you had a great transformative experience which you could not completely process until several years later. They were years spent reading Sigmund Freud, Karl Gustav Jung and Melanie Klein, struggling to understand the intricacies of the human mind and to become a different type of psychiatrist.

Among its many distinctions, which include breakthrough achievements in Medicine, Artificial Intelligence and virtually all fields of human endeavour, Edinburgh is known all over Europe as a City of Culture. Since 1947, and usually in the month of August, it has hosted the Edinburgh International Festival that is rated by many as the preeminent cultural celebration in all of Europe.

In the early years, the festival consisted of mainstream events such as musical performances and drama in various venues in the city. Over time, other, less-mainstream activities were added, creating ‘The Fringe’ – which in time became even larger than the festival itself. Later still, a Jazz Festival latched on to the festivities, creating a heady mix. The Fringe featured everything and encompassed everybody – from hungry students from Tokyo exhibiting weird body paintings on The Royal Mile to a group from Albania cavorting about in a war dance reminiscent of Genghis Khan.

In a small hall off the Leith Walk, you could listen to Maya Angelou bringing her audience to tears as she rendered ‘I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings’. Just around the corner, in a dingy little place, two South African men in rumpled Johannesburg street wear would be performing ‘Sizwe Banzi Is Dead’. The period of the festival was always a time to cut class and savour the world, enjoying what little sun there was in that perpetually cold and blustery city.

One of the staples of the festival has always been the Tattoo, a military parade – or rather a set of military parades and displays held in the foothills of the Castle. The Tattoo displays the proud military tradition of the Scots, with soldiers attired in kilts marching in formation as they blow their bagpipes. Guest bands from different countries are invited to enrich the diversity. The audiences, from all over the world, sit in tiered rows, watching the floodlit performance with the haunting hulk of the Castle in the background.

There is a trending video of a contingent from the Nigerian army performing at this year’s Edinburgh Tattoo. The commentator, clearly a Nigerian soldier, walks the audience through the performance, which commences with a sprightly march-in. The soldiers form and re-group in different formations, not missing a step. They go into a square formation. In comes a cultural troupe, representing, by their dress and manner of dance, the different ethnic groups of Nigeria. There is a wedding ceremony, with exchange of kolanuts. There is drumming and dancing.

The uniformed men form a circle. The gaily-dressed ‘civilians’ charge through the circle, mingling effortlessly with the soldiers. There is much symbolism in the performance, according to the commentator. It shows that civilian and soldier are united and living in harmony in Nigeria.

The Nigerians exit to the marching tune of a popular Yoruba song ‘Iya ni wura iyebiye … …o r’oyun mi f’osu m’esan…’

The audience is clearly delighted. There is much clapping.

The easy mingling of the civilians in the protective circle formed by the marching soldiers is intended as a metaphor for the reality of the Nigerian nation.

Sadly, and irrespective of whatever the enthusiastically patriotic commentator may say on the matter, it is not so – at least not yet. That easy amiability, the love and trust displayed in the dance formation, is, at best, a ‘work in progress’ on the ground.

The Nigerian army is fighting a difficult war in the north east of the country, and there is much emotional support and sympathy from all across the nation for the nation’s gallant soldiers.

But, in perspective, the relationship of the Nigerian with his army has been a fraught one, from the first incursion of soldiers into the nation’s affairs in 1966. The military have ruled Nigeria in one form or another for all too many of the years since Independence. In that time, the nation has played like a broken record, going back to the beginning every time.

It has been a rather less than happy story, if the truth be told, from the draconian regime that wanted to impose ‘Law and Order’, and nothing else, to the ‘Military President’ who fancied himself as a cross between Ataturk and Mahathir, followed by a ‘Maximum Ruler’ who cornered the Central Bank and conquered the Yoruba – or so he thought.

Now in an ostensibly civilian-led Fourth Republic, the story is of herdsmen and hoodlums kidnapping and killing people all over the place, and a rather less-than-stellar response from the nation’s protectors. The recent incident in Taraba State where soldiers killed policemen who had gone to arrest a kidnapper is emblematic of, not just the fears, but the living reality of the people.

The Nigerian military gave an excellent performance at the Edinburgh Tattoo, 2019 edition, and Nigerians should be truly proud of them. For their dramatic depiction of joy and love to have any bearing on reality, they must raise their game and root out rogue elements who are giving citizens cause to doubt and worry about their intentions and their ability to protect the people they are sworn to serve.

 

 Femi Olugbile