Kaduna Nzeogwu & Co Did Not Start Nigeria’s Problem: A Reflection on Nigeria’s Struggles and the Seeds of Division by Rudolf Ogoo Okonkwo
In Nigeria, every January 15th marks a poignant reminder of a tragic chapter in the nation’s history — the day in 1966 when Major Chukwuma Kaduna Nzeogwu and his co-conspirators carried out a military coup that dismantled the First Republic. On this day, Nigerians reflect on what has been touted as the event that fractured the promising future once envisioned for the country. This narrative, often repeated over the decades, paints the coup as the point at which Nigeria’s decline began. But was it really the starting point of Nigeria’s troubles?
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As Nigerians gather to remember the lives lost on that fateful day, a larger question remains: Did Nzeogwu and his group truly ignite Nigeria’s current challenges, or were the foundations of the nation’s struggles already set in motion much earlier?
In a thought-provoking statement this year, Senator Shehu Sani suggested that Nigeria has never fully recovered from the assassination of key figures like Sir Ahmadu Bello during the January 1966 coup. Sani’s perspective, while resonating with many, may only scratch the surface of a much deeper issue. For generations, the tale of the coup has been etched into the collective memory of Nigerians, including those born long after the event, due to the efforts of older generations to ensure that the significance of such events is never forgotten. But perhaps, as our forebears cautioned, those who don’t understand where the rain started to beat them may never grasp where it is destined to stop.
The notion that Nigeria’s woes can be traced directly to the events of January 15, 1966, overlooks earlier chapters of the nation’s complex history. Reflecting on these historical moments, I recall conversations with Professor Chieka Ifemesia, a historian trained at the University of Ibadan, who recently passed away. His perspective on Nigeria’s problems provides valuable insight into the underlying causes of the country’s malady. According to Ifemesia, Nigeria’s struggles are deeply rooted in a conflict between two opposing ideas of nation-building that have clashed since the country’s amalgamation in 1914. But it was not 1966 that marked the beginning of the storm—rather, it was the events of 1953, a decade earlier, that saw the first real signs of the brewing conflict.
By 1953, Nigeria had already experienced significant political shifts. The southern leaders, eager for the country’s independence, were pushing for a three-year plan to grant Nigeria self-rule by 1956, a year before Ghana gained its independence. On the other hand, the leaders of the North were hesitant, fearing that the South would dominate a newly independent Nigeria. The North felt it needed more time to catch up in terms of education and political participation.
This difference in approach toward independence led to a monumental clash on March 31, 1953, when Anthony Enahoro, a prominent southern politician, moved a motion in the Federal Parliament calling for Nigeria’s independence by 1956. Southern leaders, including those in the Action Group and the National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons (NCNC), fully supported Enahoro’s motion. However, northern leaders were not so eager, and instead advocated for a more gradual path to independence. Ahmadu Bello, the Sardauna of Sokoto, proposed a compromise, suggesting that the motion for independence should call for self-government “as soon as possible,” rather than setting a fixed date of 1956.
The dispute over the timing of independence ultimately led to a deadlock. When southern politicians insisted on 1956, the northern leaders walked out of parliament, leaving the British colonial administrators unsure of whom to negotiate with. As the northern delegation left Lagos, they were met with jeers and hostility from the southern crowds. This marked the beginning of a series of events that would eventually culminate in violence.
In the aftermath, on May 15, 1953, the Northern People’s Congress (NPC) organized a demonstration to express opposition to the southern push for immediate independence. The following day, the Kano Native Authority revoked permission for a meeting planned by pro-independence southern activists, including Samuel Akintola and Anthony Enahoro, at the Colonial Hotel in Kano. The situation quickly escalated when mobs attacked the hotel, throwing stones at the activists inside. By the time the violence subsided, at least 46 people had died, most of them Southerners, and the British colonial government imposed a state of emergency in Northern Nigeria to restore order.
The British authorities conducted an investigation into the riots, concluding that no amount of provocation could justify the actions of the mob. Yet, the British report also identified the “seeds” of future conflict within the country. They warned that unless the underlying causes of the unrest were addressed, similar incidents could occur again. Unfortunately, the seeds of division remained unaddressed, and the country continued to grapple with the consequences.
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The events of 1953 and the subsequent riots in Kano highlighted the tension between northern and southern political ideologies. These tensions were not resolved, and the seeds of division continued to grow. As Ifemesia argued, the conflicting ideas of nation-building that emerged during Nigeria’s amalgamation persisted into the 1960s, where they manifested in the violence of 1966. By then, what had started as a simmering conflict erupted into a full-blown crisis, complete with military coups and the assassination of key political figures like Sir Ahmadu Bello.
The assassination of Bello and others in the 1966 coup was not an isolated event, nor was it the beginning of Nigeria’s problems. It was the culmination of years of unresolved tension and a failure to confront the deep-seated divisions within the country. The seeds planted in 1953 had grown into a storm, and by the time of the coup, it was not just rain that fell—it was thunder and hailstones.
In the aftermath of the violence, different narratives emerged. Victims and perpetrators each had their version of events, often shaped by their positions in the conflict. In many cases, history struggles to pinpoint the exact moment when it all went wrong—when the failure to acknowledge and address the root causes of the division led to irreversible consequences. As humans, we are quick to assign blame, but often slow to take responsibility for the actions that could have prevented the tragedy.
As Nigerians continue to reflect on the events of 1966, it is important to remember that the country’s challenges did not begin with the coup. They were years in the making, shaped by a failure to understand and address the underlying causes of the divisions between the North and the South. Until these causes are confronted and resolved, Nigeria’s struggles will continue, and the cycle of blame and recrimination will persist.
In the end, the tragedy of Nigeria’s past is not just a story of coups and assassinations; it is a story of missed opportunities to build a truly united nation. If the country is to move forward, it must first confront its history, understand the seeds of division, and take meaningful steps toward healing and reconciliation. Until then, the rain that started in 1953 will continue to beat the husk of the melon, and Nigeria’s challenges will remain unresolved.
Kaduna Nzeogwu & Co Did Not Start Nigeria’s Problem By Rudolf Ogoo Okonkwo
Unfortunately, our forefathers noted that those who did not know where the rain started to beat them would never know where it stopped.
On January 15 of every year, Nigerians remember what they were told was the most tragic incident that destroyed the ideal nation their founding fathers were building.
That was the day Kaduna Nzeogwu and his co-conspirators executed a coup that ended the First Republic. As horrific as the events of that day were, that was not where the water entered the husk of the melon.
This year, Senator Shehu Sani argued that Nigeria has yet to recover from the assassination of Sir Ahmadu Bello and others killed on that day. It is hard to quarrel with Sani’s perspective. Even for people like Sani, who were not born when the incident happened, those interested in ensuring they did not forget had etched the narrative into them.
It is a time-tested survival mechanism for humans to tell stories to younger generations to guide them in navigating their world. This ancient system of teaching the young about experiences started when our human forbearers were still living in trees.
Unfortunately, our forefathers noted that those who did not know where the rain started to beat them would never know where it stopped.
In the last few days, I have been recalling my conversations with the University of Ibadan-trained historian, Professor Chieka Ifemesia, who recently joined our ancestors. The core thesis of Ifemesia’s analysis of Nigeria’s malady was that “two ideas of nation-building have conflicted in Nigeria since amalgamation.” The clouds had been gathering since 1914, but it was in 1953 that the rain started to beat us, not in 1966.
By the year 1953, southern leaders were ready for Nigeria to become an independent nation. They were pushing for a three-year plan that would have granted Nigeria independence in 1956, one year before Ghana. The only problem was that the leaders of the North felt their region was not ready.
The North feared the South would dominate the new nation. As a result, the North argued for a delay. Their leaders believed that if given a few years, they could catch up on the number of northerners who had gone to school and were qualified to take part fully in governing Nigeria.
That was the country’s mood when, on March 31, 1953, Anthony Enahoro moved a motion at the Federal Parliament in Lagos for Britain to grant Nigeria independence by 1956.
Immediately, southern politicians in the Action Group and the National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons (NCNC) joined him. The leaders of the North insisted on a gradual process. Ahmadu Bello proposed a compromise: the Enahoro bill should state self-government “as soon as possible” rather than “in the year 1956.”
The southern leaders’ insistence on 1956 led to all parties walking out of parliament, leaving the British colonial administrators in Nigeria at a loss as to whom to negotiate with.
As northern leaders left parliament, Lagos’ crowds jeered them on their way home. Northern leaders returned to Kaduna and issued a statement. In their 1953 statement from Lugard Hall in Kaduna, northern leaders listed eight points that the southern leaders had to meet before they would return to Lagos.
For all intents and purposes, the northern leaders were ready to leave the country. Southerners like Samuel Akintola, Anthony Enahoro, and other pro-independence politicians took their campaign for independence to the North.
That was how the riot of 1953 started.
On May 15, 1953, Northern People’s Congress supporters staged a demonstration to show Akintola and his team that they did not support their mission in the North.
The next day, Saturday, May 16, 1953, the Kano Native Authority withdrew the permission initially granted to Akintola and his group to hold their meeting at Colonial Hotel, Kano. Subsequently, mobs stormed the hotel and threw stones at Akintola and his fellow independence activists inside.
Initially, two people died. Then, the mobs moved to Sabon Gari.
By Sunday, May 17, it had escalated into a full-scale inter-ethnic crisis. The mobs chanted anti-Yoruba songs as they went on a rampage. British authorities called in the military to help quell the situation. By the time it was over, 46 people, mostly Southerners, were dead.
The day after the riot, the British colonial government imposed a state of emergency in Northern Nigeria before they regained control of the situation. The British administrative officers also conducted a probe. At the end of the probe, their statement read: “No amount of provocation, short-term or long-term, can in any way justify their behavior… the seeds of the trouble which broke out in Kano on May 16 (1953) have their counterparts still in the ground. It could happen again, and only a realization and acceptance of the underlying causes can remove the danger of recurrence.”
That was the crux of Nigeria’s problem. The British identified the existence of the seeds of the trouble that broke out in Kano on May 16, 1953. They warned it could happen again unless Nigerians realized and accepted the underlying causes.
Of course, Nigerians neither realized nor accepted the underlying causes. Meanwhile, the seeds in the ground continued to absorb water and oxygen as their embryo’s cells enlarged. Again, for emphasis, one underlying cause is Ifemesia’s argument: the two conflicting ideas of nation-building that have plagued Nigeria since amalgamation.
After the riot, Ahmadu Bello and the northern leaders in the NPC issued another list of demands. This time, they presented it as a condition for their return to the Federal Parliament in Lagos.
The demands of the northern leaders included safeguards ensuring regional autonomy. The negotiations for Nigeria’s unity went so well that Ahmadu Bello was comfortable staying in the North as Premier while he sent his protégé, Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, to Lagos to serve as Prime Minister.
This is the uncontested sketch of what happened in 1953.
However, the underlying causes of the 1953 riot in Kano were neither addressed nor accepted. And nobody uprooted the seeds of the trouble in the ground. When they manifested again in 1966, it was not just rain this time; it was thunder and hailstones.
Whether in 1953 or 1966, we understand that if there are two players in a story, there are at least three perspectives: one from each player and a third from a neutral observer. Finding a neutral observer is not as easy as it seems. Those who consider themselves victims often have more compelling stories. Those considered perpetrators also hold what they believe to be interesting narratives—if only anyone cares to listen attentively.
In most deeply devastating human events, different players at different times cross the line that separates victims from perpetrators. Even when history, the ultimate arbitrator, renders its verdict, it struggles to pinpoint the exact moment of no return—the moment when identifying and accepting the underlying causes could have prevented the tragedy.
As humans, we have continued to do the easy part—pointing fingers and apportioning blame—rather than the difficult part of working toward a solution to prevent a recurrence. And when history repeats itself, we blame our stars rather than our inaction.
