Columns
Orkar Coup: Why I Kept Mute For 35 Years – Col Lawan Gwadabe:
I call it Orkar’s April Fool version. Unfortunately, it came on the 22nd, not the 1st.
Question: There a popular belief that Abacha played a very significant role in foiling the coup…
Answer: I’ve given you the account I know, Abacha’s part is there, it’s written. What the senior officers did after that, I’m not privy to.
Abacha himself was fighting for his own survival. If his son hadn’t taken him back to his house, those two young officers who went to look for him had gone back again. So, he was lucky.
Read:
Question: Let’s talk about the 1990 coup. At the time, you were still in active service and serving as the governor of Niger State. By April 22, it will be 35 years since that coup attempt. From accounts of several actors, you played a significant role in foiling it. Can you share your recollections of that watershed moment in Nigeria’s history?
Answer: Don’t forget, I was a military governor then and if the Nigerian government were to fall, we’d all be gone. So, in a sense, it was also an act of self-preservation. We had to stay informed and take an active role.
I got involved early on because I had intelligence about their plans as far back as February 1990. We infiltrated the system. As a governor, I had extensive contacts across the country, and my intelligence sources were broad and effective.
Whenever I came across any potential threat to national security, I would compile a detailed report and send it to the president and the relevant security authorities. That was part of our training. That was the job.
Once I uncovered this particular plot, I began writing briefs regularly. Then I learned that Major Gideon Gwaza Orkar had been recruited into it.
Orkar was a good officer—I knew him well. He served under me when I was at the Directorate of Armour in Lagos. And whenever he came to Lagos for meetings while stationed in Shaki, he would stay at my house.
We had a strong connection.
He had also met me at the Nigerian Defence Academy (NDA)—he was a cadet when I was about to graduate, so I was his senior. Later, he joined the Armoured Corps, where I served. So, I knew him as a bright young officer.
When I found out about his involvement, I felt he was being used as a kind of conduit for the Niger Delta agitators. So, I asked his commandant if, in the interest of national security, he could allow Orkar to meet with me.
I wanted to send him to the president directly.
The commandant agreed, saying they weren’t in the middle of training at the time. So, Orkar was sent to me.
I told him, “Gideon, you know I have vast information about what’s happening.” He acknowledged that. I said, “There are pockets of agitations across the country. At our last caucus meeting, we briefed our seniors, and they’ve been factoring this into their decision-making.”
For example, the establishment of OMPADEC was part of efforts to address grievances in the Niger Delta. With the 13% derivation that was eventually granted, the region received substantial resources to accelerate development. But has that really happened? Not quite.
Agitating officers in the Niger Delta hadn’t aligned with their leaders to understand what the federal government was doing—or failing to do.
There was a disconnect. And yes, there was radicalism in their thinking. Emotional responses can cloud rational judgment. So, while the claims of marginalisation had merit, the government was working on interventions.
I told Orkar, “Look, when they mention the Middle Belt—it’s just an aphorism. The Middle Belt is in Nigeria. Are you a Middle Belt officer?”
He replied, “No, sir. I’m a Nigerian officer.”
“Good,” I said. “So why are they trying to bring you into this? I don’t want to know what they’re telling you—but I’m giving you a chance, as one of us, to lay everything on the table with the president. Not to arrest them—but to disarm them.
Let the government talk with them and understand their frustrations.”
That was my intention.
He responded, “Whatever you ask me to do, sir, I will do.”
I reminded him, “If you’d done anything wrong, I could’ve had you arrested right here. But I didn’t. So go to the president and speak the truth about everything you know.”
He mentioned that his car wasn’t in good condition, and I told him not to worry. I called my ADC and Director-General of Government House. I said, “Orkar is your guest. He needs new tyres.”
The Niger State Supply Company provided four new tires for his car. The DG Government House gave him N20,000—quite a large amount back then—and he headed to Lagos.
To his credit, he left very early the next morning. I don’t recall the exact date, but it was a Wednesday in March. By 2 p.m., UK Bello called me and said, “Sir, the officer is here.”
I told him, “UK Bello, I beg you in the name of Almighty God, whatever the president is doing, he must see Orkar today.”
He said, “Consider it done, sir.” I had already phoned the president that morning to let him know Orkar was on his way.
Orkar sat in the ADC’s office until 6 p.m., there had been a Federal Executive Council meeting, which ran long. When the president returned and saw Orkar, he said, “Gideon, your boss told me you were coming. Okay, I’ve seen you, but I’m tired. Can you come back tomorrow?”
And that was it.
Orkar bantered a bit with UK Bello and left. But realistically, it’s likely he had already informed his co-conspirators and they were nearby in Lagos, awaiting the outcome of that meeting.
When that meeting didn’t happen, I believe it rattled them. They probably assumed their secret plan had been discovered; how else could we have known so much? So I believe they panicked, changed their timeline, and launched the coup earlier than planned.
That’s why it didn’t succeed as they had envisioned.
Question: Do you think, former President Babangida could have been aware of their plans? Could that be why he didn’t meet with Gideon Orkar that day?
Answer: No, I don’t think so. Whatever he knew about the situation came from the information we were providing him. But I felt that once the plot reached a certain stage, it was time for Orkar to brief him directly—so the government could step in, disarm the agitators, and allow things to return to normal.
Nobody was interested in arresting anyone. If they had genuine grievances, fine, what are those grievances? If the authorities felt it was necessary, they could sit down and listen. At that point, the whole thing was still in its embryonic stage.
Question: When Orkar couldn’t see the president, did he reach out to you?
No, he didn’t get back to me.
Question: Did you reach out to him?
No, I didn’t.
Now you know.
Columns
Benita Enwonwu in the 1970s: Model, Actress, and Daughter of Ben Enwonwu
This photograph of Benita Enwonwu from the 1970s recalls a familiar face from Nigerian popular culture of that era. She was widely known as a model and actress, and is especially remembered for her appearance in Joy Soap advertisements, which made her one of the recognisable media personalities of the period.
Benita was also notable for her family background. She was the daughter of Ben Enwonwu, one of Nigeria’s most celebrated modern artists and sculptors. Ben Enwonwu’s career placed him among the leading figures in twentieth-century African art, so Benita’s public image carried an added layer of cultural significance, linking Nigerian advertising, performance, and elite artistic heritage.
While she is often remembered today through nostalgic references to the Joy Soap ad of the 1970s, available reliable public documentation on her wider filmography and career is limited. Because of that, it is safest to describe her as a popular model and screen personality associated with Nigerian advertising culture of the 1970s, rather than overstate details that are not strongly verified.
What makes the image especially interesting is that it reflects a period when print advertising, television commercials, and glamour photography were becoming more influential in shaping urban popular culture in Nigeria. Figures like Benita Enwonwu helped define the aspirational, stylish image of that period.
background
Ben Enwonwu is well documented as a major Nigerian artist, and auction-house and museum records confirm his international reputation and family legacy. Publicly accessible records also support the broad identification of Benita Enwonwu as his daughter, though detailed independent archival coverage of her own career appears limited.
Source note
The immediate source you gave is Benita Enwonwu’s Twitter page, which may be useful as a primary-source attribution for the photo itself, but I could not independently verify that page directly from accessible archival sources in this search.
References
Ben Enwonwu Foundation / related institutional material on Ben Enwonwu’s legacy.
Columns
Aliko was only 20 years old when he founded his company, Dangote Group. In 2011, he became the first nongovernmental figure to receive the distinction of the Grand Commander of the Order of the Niger (GCON), Nigeria’s second highest honour.
Born April 10, 1957, in Kano, northern Nigeria, Aliko Dangote has come to symbolize the transformative power of enterprise on the African continent. With a commercial instinct honed from youth and a formidable vision for self-reliance, Nigeria’s richest man has redefined industrial ambition in Africa.
In 1977, a young Dangote embarked on his entrepreneurial journey by establishing the Dangote Group, initially a modest trading firm dealing in imported commodities such as sugar, salt, and foodstuffs. As the business grew rapidly, he recognised the limitations of import dependency and set his sights on industrial production.
By 1981, he had launched Dangote Nigeria Limited and Blue Star Services, expanding his operations to include the importation of rice, steel, and aluminium products—a clear indication of his growing appetite for scale and influence. But it was in cement that his greatest impact would soon be felt.
Responding to the ever-increasing demand for building materials in Nigeria and across West Africa, Dangote founded Dangote Cement, positioning it to rival foreign giants such as Lafarge, the French multinational known at the time for dominating African markets through imports. With strategic foresight and substantial investment in local production, Dangote not only outpaced competitors but helped reposition Nigeria as a net exporter of cement.
By 2023, Dangote Cement had become a cornerstone of African infrastructure, generating approximately $3.7 billion in revenue, while Dangote Sugar rose to be one of the largest sugar producers in both Nigeria and the continent at large.
His entrepreneurial achievements are matched by his influence on public policy and national development. In 2011, President Goodluck Jonathan appointed Dangote to the Economic Management Team, recognising his pivotal role in shaping Nigeria’s industrial trajectory. That same year, Jonathan conferred on him the Grand Commander of the Order of the Niger (GCON)—the country’s second highest national honour.
A household name not just in Nigeria but across Africa, Dangote’s reach extends beyond business. In 2014, he was listed among Time magazine’s 100 most influential people in the world, a testament to his international stature. As of March 2025, Forbes estimates his personal fortune at $23.8 billion, making him the wealthiest Black person in the world.
Yet for all the headlines, Dangote’s legacy rests not merely in wealth, but in impact—in industries built, jobs created, and a continent nudged steadily toward economic self-sufficiency. With his flagship Dangote Refinery poised to revolutionise the energy landscape of West Africa, his vision continues to unfold—bold, pragmatic, and unmistakably African.
Columns
Fela Anikulapo Kuti Meets Icons of Art and Music in New York – 1986
When Afrobeat intersected with 1980s New York’s vibrant art scene
In 1986, Nigerian Afrobeat pioneer Fela Anikulapo Kuti traveled to New York, a global epicentre of music, fashion, and contemporary art. During this trip, he was photographed alongside three towering figures of the city’s cultural scene: Keith Haring, the revolutionary pop artist; Jean-Michel Basquiat, the celebrated neo-expressionist painter; and Grace Jones, the avant-garde singer, model, and performer.
A Convergence of Art, Music, and Activism
Fela Kuti, already a legend in Africa, was known for blending traditional Yoruba rhythms, jazz, funk, and highlife to create Afrobeat, a genre that carried sharp political commentary and a call for African liberation. By the mid-1980s, Fela had achieved international recognition not just as a musician but also as a cultural and political icon.
New York during this period was a magnet for creativity. Downtown Manhattan’s clubs, galleries, and lofts were vibrant meeting points for emerging artists, musicians, and activists. Keith Haring was transforming public spaces with his bold graffiti-inspired imagery that celebrated social activism and community engagement.
Jean-Michel Basquiat, rising from the SAMO graffiti project, was redefining contemporary painting with references to African diasporic history, jazz, and street culture. Grace Jones, with her fearless performances and striking fashion, blurred the lines between music, visual art, and theatricality.
The photograph of Fela with Haring, Basquiat, and Jones embodies a cross-cultural dialogue: African Afrobeat meeting New York’s avant-garde art scene. The collaboration of ideas, energy, and rebellion against social norms created a powerful synergy that celebrated creative freedom and social critique.
Fela’s Impact and Resonance
Fela’s presence in New York in the 1980s extended his influence beyond African music:
Cultural Ambassador: He introduced the global audience to Afrobeat rhythms and political narratives about Nigerian governance and African unity.
Political Voice: Fela used music as activism, critiquing dictatorship, corruption, and inequality, which resonated with New York artists tackling social injustice in their mediums.
Artistic Exchange: His meetings with Haring and Basquiat symbolize the blending of visual and musical arts, showing how African rhythms inspired and were inspired by contemporary Western art.
The Icons of 1980s New York
Keith Haring (1958–1990): His art addressed AIDS awareness, apartheid, and social inequities through a distinctive graffiti style.
Jean-Michel Basquiat (1960–1988): Known for paintings that combined text, imagery, and social commentary, often highlighting African heritage and identity.
Grace Jones (b. 1948): A music and fashion trailblazer, known for her theatrical performances, gender-bending style, and influence on New Wave and disco music.
A Symbolic Moment
The photograph is more than a casual gathering—it is a representation of global cultural exchange. Here was a Nigerian musician whose voice challenged power structures, standing with avant-garde artists who were also pushing boundaries in their respective fields. It highlights how African cultural expression influenced and was celebrated internationally.
This moment also reflects the 1980s as a period of experimentation, cross-pollination, and dialogue among music, fashion, and visual art, creating enduring legacies that continue to inspire generations.
Source:
Veal, Michael. Fela: The Life and Times of an African Musical Icon.
Haring, Keith. Keith Haring Journals.
Basquiat, Jean-Michel. The Radiant Child: The Life of Jean-Michel Basquiat.
Personal archives and historical photographs of Fela Kuti in New York, 1986.
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