By CLEM OLUWOLE
After the asphyxiating dust raised following the forgery of the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) exemption certificate by the former Finance Minister, Kemi Adeosun, Nigeria had some respite until last week when the scandal sneezed back from the dead. This time around, the former Minister of Innovation, Science and Technology, Mr Uche Nnaji, was at the centre of the storm, and the social media rats have been busy, gnawing at the sumptuous development.
However, the minister did not wait to be feasted to the bones. He honourably resigned a few days after the breakout, barely two years in office.
Kemi Adeosun survived from 2015 under President Buhari, who appointed her as Finance Minister, to 2018 when she quit the cabinet following the final whistle blown on her by Premium Times. The matter went to court, where the wheel of justice ground slowly for almost three years. Ultimately, the High Court ruled that, as a British citizen, she was not required to participate in the scheme. Adeosun was ignorant of this. The omnipresent Premium Times, like a centre referee, also blew the final whistle that led to Nnaji’s sudden departure in the first half of the Tinubu administration.
Mr Nnaji was accused of forging his degree certificate, purportedly issued by the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, as well as his NYSC certificate. Initially, the former minister fought back, alleging that the governor of his home state, Enugu, was the one beating the drum because he had his eye on the 2027 race. It seemed we were in for a long session of accusation and counter-accusation until he suddenly threw in the towel and killed the music.
By now, public office holders should know that the fear of Premium Times is the beginning of wisdom and that they should think twice before taking up public appointments with dubious credentials, commonly referred to as Oluwole. Believe me, your secret is hidden in plain sight the moment you accept to work for the government. We shall come back to Oluwole later.
Certificate forgery: An old disease that refuses to die
Forgery of certificates is not alien to us, especially since the return of democratic governance in 1999. The first casualty was found in the House of Representatives, where its pioneer Speaker, Salisu Buhari, a young and bubbling politician from Kano, was caught in the web. Buhari falsified his age to be eligible for the office; he was just one year short of qualification.
Not only that, he garnished it with a degree certificate in Business Administration obtained from the University of Toronto, Canada. He eventually resigned. He was charged in court, tried and jailed for his crimes.
In the mix, we had a deputy governor-elect of Bayelsa State, Mr Biobarakuma Degi-Eremienyo, who was alleged to have forged his degree certificate, which cost his principal, David Lyon, the seat in 2020 after a Supreme Court ruling. It was a painful loss for Lyon; his deputy ended his reverie of a life as a governor.
However, the recurring question in the public domain has been this: “How did all those accused of dressing in counterfeit credentials escape the scrutiny of the security agencies whose jobs are to do background screenings of the nominees?” This is a critical question waiting for an answer.
Certificate counterfeiting will remain with us until thy kingdom comes! Certificates are proof of knowledge acquired, and we are so crazy about them in this country, which is why many would go the extra kilometre to possess them… at all costs. Some certificates obtained from our universities by some graduates are not any better than the counterfeited ones.
This is because such possessors of the certificates cannot defend them. Some graduates obtained them through cash inducement or bottom power. Many lecturers are known to bed their students all through their courses, consequently hurling into the labour market products that cannot even fill their employment forms!
As if you do not know, there are quack doctors, lawyers, and others out there who are performing excellently in their chosen careers. Instances abound of lawyers armed with fake certificates who have shamed even Senior Advocates in court before the wind revealed the rump of the fowl. Fake medical doctors have also melted into government hospitals or health centres, successfully performing delicate surgeries before they were discovered to be fakes.
Only God knows how they acquired such
knowledge outside the medical school! Things are even easier today. We now have Google doctors everywhere you turn, answering questions on medical issues. Before Google showed up, there were medical books that doctors consulted to diagnose all manner of ailments and treatments were recommended.
Competence over credentials
I had an encounter with an Indian doctor long before the almighty Google surfaced. It was at a mission hospital in Jos. One of my boys had a condition. We met the doctor in his consulting room, where he took time to listen to the boy’s case and scribbled down some notes. After a while, he heaved into the open a book huger than the Bible. Initially, I thought he wanted to read out a passage for prayers before writing out the prescription.
It was not the Holy Writ, because hardly could one find an Indian Christian. He flipped through the book and purred over a page for a while. Then, he scribbled a prescription for the boy. I struggled to conceal my shock and wondered what kind of doctor he was. Then, he looked up and asked whether we had epilepsy in our family because the boy was exhibiting occasional involuntary jerks and blinking.
Our response was no. To shorten a long story, his mum and I did some research on our own and placed the boy on a combination of vitamin B Complex and calcium. The deficiency was responsible for that condition. And boom — his condition not only improved but also vanished.
Some people are gifted but have had no opportunity to pass through the university to acquire the relevant knowledge. Multi-billionaires like Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerberg never passed through the four walls of a university to become stupendously rich and successful in their businesses. They did not have to forge any certificates in order to be recognised in their society. Their accomplishments are there for all to see.
As I always argue, one should be counting their credentials before the age of 40. After that age, you should be listing your achievements, which must speak for you. A credential counter at 40 is like a fool at that age.
When I authored my first two-volume book in the late 1980s, I planted my Master’s degree after my name on the cover. I was well below 40. After that, I raked in ten additional books and only my name appeared on the cover. The academic title simply vanished. The publications speak for my accomplishments, not the degree anymore. Competence is the key here — not counting degrees to the envy of a thermometer! For as long as we worship academic titles, we will not be spared forgeries of all hues in this country.
The Oluwole metaphor, a personal burden
Now, back to Oluwole. Since the Salisu Buhari saga surfaced in 1999, the name Oluwole has always been dragged into such scandals. Long before now, the name has been seen as a metaphor for forgery. The reason is that there is a mill situated along the popular Bishop Oluwole Street, off Akin Adesola Street, Victoria Island, Lagos, a commercial and residential hub. It is there that all manner of documents are forged to the extent that you can hardly differentiate them from the originals. And so, when any documents are found to be counterfeits, they are simply referred to as Oluwole.
Anytime certificate scandals rear their heads, I feel pained because of the negative association with my name. I believe I am speaking for all the Oluwoles of this world.
Some years ago, my son, a software engineer, was invited to the East to execute a contract. When he arrived at the company’s reception and announced his presence, all heads turned in his direction. He did not know the reason for attracting such attention until much later. However, he did an excellent job.
It was obvious that the company invited him all the way from Jos for the task based on his competence and referrals. As an Oluwole, he would have been avoided like a plague!
I guess I was not that lucky. Years before my boy’s encounter in the East, I had responded to an advertisement in one of the dailies announcing recruitment into the newly created Publications Unit of the National Assembly, Abuja. I put in for the position of head of the unit, for which I was eminently qualified, considering my rich qualifications and nearly two decades of experience in printing and publishing.
But alas, I did not receive an acknowledgment letter, let alone being invited for an interview. The panellists, upon sighting my application, must have reasoned among themselves thus: “Surely, this must be the Head of the Oluwole Dynasty, the Master Forger himself!” Needless to tell you where my application must have ended up… in the trash can, of course!
I have always reminded my kids about the burden they carry by bearing that surname and that they should strive to excel in whatever tasks they set their eyes on because Oluwole has become a forgery personified, for which there is nothing — absolutely nothing — anyone can do about it, even if the forgers are relocated elsewhere in Lagos.
Oluwole writes from Abuja via clemoluwole@gmail.com