Alhaji Ahmadu Kurfi is the district head of Kurfi in Katsina State. Before he assumed this role, he was a very senior civil servant at the federal level for many years. He was the deputy permanent secretary in the Ministry of Defence when the 1966 coup took place. He was also a permanent secretary in the Office of the Head of Service. Kurfi was actually known as the first executive secretary of the Federal Electoral Commission (FEDECO) set up by the military to organise the transition to civilian rule in 1979. It was this commission that organised the election that brought in Alhaji Shehu Shagari as president of the Federal Republic of Nigeria. In this interview he shared his experiences, including how he escaped being killed during the 1966 coup, as well as other issues.
Can you give us a little background about your early life?
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I was born in 1931 in this very house. My father was the Maradi Aliyu. At that time there was no elementary school in Kurfi, so my father had the foresight to send me to Katsina to enroll in the then Central Elementary School, where I stayed for three years. From there, I proceeded to Katsina Middle School, then Kaduna College in 1947. We transferred from Kaduna to Zaria in 1949.
I finished from secondary school at the end of 1950 and was employed as a teacher by the then Katsina Native Authority. I was there for two years. There was a new teacher training college which they called Higher Elementary Training Centre; I was there for two years. After that I was employed as a classroom teacher in 1953, and in 1953 I got a scholarship to go to England to study. I was there for five years.
As a teacher in primary school, was it difficult to get a scholarship to England?
The Northern Region Government knew that independence was coming and there was a dearth of qualified people in the North because there were very few graduates as there was no university at all; even Ibadan was a college of the University of London.
Our leader, the Sardauna of Sokoto had a foresight, so he said those of us who had what was called Senior Cambridge School Certificate should be sent to England to study for some years. From there we got entrance into the university.
You moved from Katsina to the United Kingdom (UK) as a young man; how was life then?
In those days, there were very few black faces in England. Most of the black faces were from the West Indies, descendants of slaves that were sent to North America. There were many of them. Southern Nigerians were quite a number, but from the North we were very few.
Was there a lot of discrimination?
Yes, but a very subtle one. You know the British people were very civilised; they would not show you, but it was there. If you wanted a house to rent and was advertised, but the moment you went there and they saw a black face, they would say it was vacant but not open. And in the buses and streets, everybody minded his business, unlike in Nigeria where people would talk and read newspapers. Nobody bothered about you. That was the discrimination.
As one of the first crop of northern graduates who came back to the country, what happened after that?
Our leaders then had foresight. When we were about to complete our courses they started thinking of where to place us. Since I studied Economics, I was asked whether I would like to join the Kaduna Textile as a trainee manager. The company that was to partner with the Northern Nigerian Government was from Manchester, and they said that if I wanted, I should go to them so that I could be trained as a manager so that later on I would take over from the white people in Nigeria. So I went there.
Did you start your training while you were a student in the UK?
No, it was later. They said I should see the people in the UK. And I had been in the UK for nearly five years, so I knew them. They were masters here in Nigeria, but there, we were equal. We were in the same class with the white people for lectures.
So they said I should go and see them so that I would be trained as a future manager in the Kaduna Textile. I was interviewed, but naturally, they saw me as a threat and I didn’t like it, so I said I didn’t want it. I refused.
Then there was a company they called Nigerian Produce Marketing, which sold Nigerian produce overseas. There were the Northern Nigerian Marketing Board, Eastern Nigerian Marketing Board and Western Nigerian Marketing Board. They would buy produce from farmers and sell overseas. They also asked me if I would like to join that company and I said no.
When I came back, the Sardauna interviewed me and said he wanted me to lead the way, but I said I had been away from my father and mother. In those days there was no information communication technology, so there was no means of communication with my parents for five years until I came back.
I told the Sardauna that I didn’t want it, unless he wanted to send me on exile. So he let me be. I told him that since the Europeans had district officers, directors, permanent secretaries, and so on, who were in charge of ministries and parastatals, I would like to join the administration as an assistant district officer.
So you didn’t want the private sector?
I had no interest; I wanted to be in government.
Where were you posted to when you came back?
I was first posted to the provinces. I was posted Niger Province. In those days, in each province there was a resident commissioner in charge of the whole province. And we had 12 provinces in the North. I was sent to the resident commissioner in Minna.
How long did you stay in the regional service before you were transferred to the federal?
I returned from the UK in 1958 and stayed in the regional service up to 1960, then Sardauna said that independence was approaching and their party had a government of coalition. In the ministry, the minister was a northerner but the next person would be a messenger and nobody in-between.
You said you were in Lagos on Nigeria’s Independence Day in 1960; and even at that time there were agitators who said Nigeria should not be one, is that true?
Yes, there were people who raised their Oduduwa flag in Badagry because they wanted Awolowo to be prime minister. But in the majority, it was Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, a northerner, who became the prime minister. Some of them were raising their flags, but of course they didn’t succeed.
How was your stay in Lagos; did you have a family or you were alone?
Before I even went to England I had a wife and son. He is now over 70. Immediately I finished secondary school, I got married.
Were you comfortable living in Lagos in spite of the fact that you were very few in the civil service?
No, the people there didn’t want us. They said mallams were going to take over things although there were very few of us; I think four of us—one Hausa-Fulani, the other three northern Yoruba. They saw us as threat.
You rose in the civil service, such that by 1966 you were the deputy permanent secretary in the Ministry of Defence when the coup happened. I know you have written, as well as talked about it in some places; what was the motivation for that coup?
The motivation was to seize the government from the northern people and put us in the background. They thought that when the Europeans left after independence they would take over the country, but that did not happen. The prime minster was from the North and northern politicians were very astute. They were better politically than those in the South, including those who had PhDs. Ours went to only middle schools, not even secondary school, but they were experienced politically.
They thought that by killing Balewa and the Sardauna they would be there, but unfortunately for them, our people had foresight.
When I was sent to the Ministry of Defence in Lagos, there was recruitment of potential army officers. The recruitment team went to Kaduna, Enugu and Ibadan.
It was not part of my job to do the recruitment. There was another officer, a Yoruba man, who was doing it. When I got to the ministry, he told me that he went to Kaduna for the exercise. I ran to the permanent secretary and said that since the recruitment was being done in Kaduna, as somebody from the North, I should be the one to do it. They agreed and said I should go.
I was an assistant secretary, so I wrote my report, stating what happened. Up to 100 people came for the interview and 70 of them were from one tribe. I said it was not good, that there should be a quota system—for every 100 people let 50 per cent come from the North and the other 25 per cent from the other two regions. You know there were three regions.
Of course they opposed it; even the Europeans opposed it, saying it would make the military to be confined to a particular area. They said my recommendation was not unacceptable, but I said I was right and there would be a day when it would be accepted.
So, immediately independence came, Ribadu, being the most senior minister, was sent to the newly created Ministry of Defence. Immediately he came, I showed him the file for my recommendation, which was rejected.
Ministers were very experienced and intelligent people, so when I gave him the file, he kept quiet and took it Kaduna. They used to have meetings of all the ministers and senior public officers every three months or so, presided over by Sardauna, to discuss the position of the North in the context of one Nigeria.
When the Sardauna saw what I recommended, he said that was why we were sent there.
Did this type of quota system apply to other ministries?
No, it was confined to soldiers; you can say officers. Although we didn’t know anything like military coup, they said 50 per cent of the recruitment of military officers should come from the North, 25 per cent from the East and 25 per cent from the West. Of course, they opposed it on the basis of what they called federal character, which some people even today say does not have merit, as if merit is confined to a particular area.
You were almost killed during the 1966 coup because you were the most senior official in the Ministry of Defence in Lagos. You were moving around trying to know what was going on. What happened that night?
You see, about 2am, the then acting inspector-general of police, Kam Salem and the commissioner of police for Lagos territory, Abba Maiduguri, came to my house and said they heard the prime minister had been kidnapped.
I knew that officers, especially those from the North, talked about change of government and so on, but I didn’t think they had any reason to kill anybody. Some of them were my classmates and some schoolmates. So I told them to let me go to those of them who were living in Ikoyi; and let me go to Maimalari and Yakubu Pam at night. So I went into a small car. Instead of going to hide, I just went to the houses of these people. When I went to the house of Yakubu Pam, his wife told me that somebody came and took him away.
There was somebody from Ibadan who was lodged in Ikoyi Hotel because there was a party and all the senior officers gathered. My fear was that they wanted to eliminate them at the venue of the party that night. I was the deputy permanent secretary and my permanent secretary and the minister were away, so they wanted to round us up and kill us there.
Were you at the party?
I was there. In fact, I was the most senior man there. It was during Ramadan, so they had arranged that by 12 midnight or so, most of us would be at the party and they would kill us. But because it was Ramadan, before 9pm most of us went away. They didn’t have any alternative plan, so they went and killed the prime minister and the Sardauna. Some of us were targeted, but we were minor compared to the other people.
What happened to you after the coup?
After the coup, the then governor of northern Nigeria, Hassan Katsina, said he had instituted a commission of inquiry about the activities of the marketing board in charge of the economy of the North and he wanted me to go there.
So I was posted to the North to look after the marketing board. Later on, when states were created it became a northern states marketing board. I stayed until I disagreed with the new governor and had to go back to Lagos.
What was the quarrel about?
They wanted to do things that were not in accordance with the law, so I had to leave.
Did they ask you to leave or you left on your own?
Since I came from the federal service, I went back, but after quarreling with them, the thing even led to my demotion by one rank, but within the same year I was promoted again.
How did the FEDECO come about? And how did you get involved in elections, being an economist and a high-level official of the Ministry of Defence?
In most places, wherever I worked I never begged anybody to appoint me for something. When the military, through Murtala and Obasanjo, wanted somebody, they wanted me to go there. But I said no because I suffered in the Northern Nigerian Marketing Board. So I told them that I didn’t want the job. I begged them to leave me in the ministry because things were easier there.
Most of my colleagues in the ministry had even become permanent secretaries and I was still a deputy, so I said they should let me be, but they insisted. I said if they insisted they must give me the title of executive secretary with full powers; and they agreed.
Was the FEDECO job difficult?
Dealing with politicians, yes.
Were you under any tremendous pressure?
Yes, but they could not attempt to bribe me because people told them that I would not accept their money. I managed Awolowo, Azikiwe and Waziri Ibrahim, who was my schoolmate; I didn’t even favour him at all.
Some people said the result of the election didn’t satisfy the criteria of 13 states, how did you feel when it became controversial?
They were telling lies. The law stated that to be elected the president of Nigeria you must have the highest number of total votes cast, then you should have two thirds of the 13 states. It was not even physical states, which people interpreted; there could be a fraction.
So people were twisting it, saying how could you have two thirds of a state? But the law really meant two thirds of the votes of the states, and they would use that to get two thirds of the votes.
So you are convinced that Shagari won the election?
Yes.
After the 1979 election, there was an attempt to persuade you to continue in the FEDECO, why did you refuse?
Shagari wanted me to continue, but after what I experienced, I said no. After the election there was no commission, but I stayed there for one year until another one was formed. I opted to go to the United States on sabbatical; I just went to the University of New York.
That was when your writing career really began. Can you tell us something more about your books? What motivated you to start writing; and the choice of the subject?
In the Columbia University in the United States, when they learnt that there was a department dealing with Africa history and so on, one day they told me to give a lecture for 30 minutes, and 30 minutes for questions. I gave them the lecture, and when the professor in charge went back to his office, he said I seemed to have quite a lot of experience on elections, so why not write something about it? I said I would do that.
They had a very rich library, so when I went there I read about elections in other countries, even in Russia. That was how I started writing the draft of my first book, ‘Nigerian General Elections, 1959 and 1979 and the Aftermath’. That was my first book.
You also wrote on the military coup; what decided the choice of your topics?
I published seven books and I think four of them are on elections. Of the three that are not on elections, one is my autobiography, one fiction and the other one, Know Your Country and Beyond.
Apart from seven books, you also wrote many newspaper columns, some with your name, some without your name, how were you able to achieve that feat?
When I was in the civil service I used pen names because I couldn’t put my name. When I retired I put my name until I got too old and stopped writing.
Kurfi is a small town, what other activities keep you busy, having experienced big activities in Lagos; how do you cope here?
Here has become a centre of sorts. Most people in my family are all over the place because I am here. They come regularly because here has become an attraction to them. They come for advice and all sorts of things. So I am always with somebody; I am not alone.
I always like to read. My eyes are getting a bit weak, but if you go inside you will see a newspaper, even today’s edition.
Your memory is remarkable. You remember all the things from the 1940s and 1950s, is it training or gift?
It is just nature; God made me like that. Some people have good memories while some don’t. There are people who are much younger than me but their memories are not up to mine.
How do you feel at 91, generally and health-wise?
I always read books and newspapers, although it is quite difficult now. I can’t just sit down like that.
Are there other things you do to keep healthy?
I eat like a young man. I eat a lot, except the few weeks I felt sick. But I have resumed. I eat quite a lot. My appetite is good now.
How is family life for you?
I have a very small family. I have one wife. I had five children, but two of them are late and three are alive, the eldest one is getting to 70.
Is he your ciroma, maybe the likely successor?
You know we don’t have crown prince in Hausa land. You may get it if either your father or grandfather held the position; you can’t just come from outside.
What about great grandfather?
That is too far!
The country has perhaps become more difficult than when you were in the civil service. What advice do you have for young people?
When we were in the civil service, the country’s population was just 30 million at a time, now it is 200 million, so things are totally different. What you were able to do in those days you cannot do now. The society and the whole world are very complex.
But infrastructures are not keeping up with that; do you blame the current leaders or those before them for lack of foresight to see the population growth?
The current leaders didn’t know what it was during our time. Things were less complex and we were able to manage them easily, but now, things have changed; the whole world has changed.
People looked up to America when we had leaders like Winston Churchill, but now, things have changed and people like Donald Trump said America was alone. They kicked him out after one term and he refused to accept defeat; the first time America, the mother of democracy, is behaving like Africa.
Do you think that some of the problems in the country, such as banditry in Katsina, which is becoming a huge problem, became inevitable because of population growth and the complexity of the society?
It is worrisome, but people become bandits because they have nothing to do. Before now, during the rainy season, people would go to their farms, and during the dry season they would have something to do. But because of globalisation people do not have jobs. They want to work but there is no market.
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