The 1978 “Ali Must Go” protest against education commercialisation by Obasanjo military regime was like a carnival of songs such as, “Ali Mon Go, Obasanjo Mon Go”. We, as secondary students, followed our university brothers & sisters who came to our school, Reverend Kuti Memorial Grammar School, Isabo, Abeokuta to mobilize us for the protest.
Their message was simple and motivational. That we should join them so that our future ambition to go to university won’t be jeopardized, because with the commercialisation of education, our poor and struggling parents and guardians won’t be able to afford the school fees, feeding, books, hostel and other sundry fees. Their powerful message synchronized with our future ambition, so we followed them. No placards, no banners given to us and we couldn’t produce any because it was an impromptu intervention. Our loud voices and melodious chorus of “Ali Mon Go, Obasanjo Mon Go” which we learned within a second were our battle cry. I was a form four student in boarding house.
Our procession joined by some market women and others was very peaceful with many people waving and praying for us in appreciation and approval of our action. Protesters are always much more than those we see on the street protesting. It was a fantastic moment with the large crowd moving towards Sapon area the centre of the town that used to have the post office, p&t, Nepa office, bookshops like the popular Fola bookshop,, banks like the defunct national bank, cooperative bank.
Surprisingly, from nowhere some police vehicles that looked like caterpillars and some pickup vans appeared from nowhere blarrng siren and started firing something like gas at us from some cans that were dropping in our midst that made us partially blind. My eyes started dropping tears and my face started itching me as if I had been attacked with atare juju by the Igunnunko or Egungun priests.
Everything became “scatter scarter, confusion come break bone” with armed police invasion of our protest as Fela Anikulapo-Kuti once described such scenario. I later got to know the police caterpillar was armored tank and the unknown gas that was itching my face and made us partially blind was called teargas. I was one of the best chemistry students, I knew all the gases with their IUPAC names like Oxygen, Hydrogen, Nitogen, but I had never come across “Tear Gas” in my Lambert Chemistry book which I loved to read so much, and our beautiful petite light complexioned chemistry teacher, Mrs. Joseph who we students nicknamed Cinderella for her arresting charming beauty, never taught us about this strange gas that has peppery itching effects.
That was how unreasonable “agbaya” armed policemen turned our peaceful protest, a carnival like procession into violence and a theater of war against harmless and armless students and market women. That was also my first experience in public protest and teargas effects. I can’t know the number of times I have been tear gased now since then, meaning the bad State is always one with changing faces.
I didn’t know how I found myself in one house of sympathetic families and adults who gave me a handkerchief soaked with kerosene to clean my itching eyes. They advised me to stay till evening before I go back to the hostel because “awon oloriburuku olopa yen si mun awon ara yin o, eni yi won ba mu nino re won n’no o. N’se re won de ko won lo o..” (in Egba dialect) “Those unfortunate police are still arresting your colleagues and those caught were driven off…”. I didn’t get back to the hostel till around 8pm dreesed in an old agbada given by a good Samaritan in my temporary house of refuge to cover my purple and khaki uniform. What a terrorist State and what a bad experience to be kept forever.
It was good I joined the protest because a year later my dearest mummy died and my major finance source closed threatening my ambition to have university education as she always wanted. Never say protest against bad governance and hunger doesn’t concern you now, it will definitely affect you later. It’s turn by turn economic attack by vicious leaders who loot with impunity while we the masses and struggling working class suffer.. The message of the protesting university students continued to resonate in my heart to defend my right to education and fight against commercialisation of education which is the best investment any serious nation can invest in its youth, its future.
Twelve years after my first bad national protest experience, I later became the president of the students union, Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile Ife in 1990. That message of 1978 Ali Must Go peaceful protest turned violence by the state agents, became one of my guiding principles to always defend right to education and protest as a fundamental human right.
Adeola Soetan
*One of the victims of riotous police attack partially blinded by teargas in 1978 Ali Must Go peaceful protest.
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