Been to Hell and Back
By Ntai Bagshaw
8pm. Saturday, October 24th 1981. Portharcourt, Rivers State. Melford Dokubo Goodhead Jr. peeped out of his bedroom window awakened by the uproar of an enraged mob hurling a middle-aged man down the street. His instincts immediately ran wild. He jumped into a pair of slippers and sauntered into the midst of the fracas. What’s going on,” he asked a guy wielding a baton. The culprit, already beaten to stupor, was accused of shoplifting at the nearby corner shop. Melford struggled to pacify the mob at the risk of his life. Following his timelyintervention, he proved that they had the wrong guy. The said criminal was innocent. Melford returned home, bruised and battered from the melee. But the teenager didn’t care. He had succeeded in saving the life of an innocent man from jungle justice. Little did he know that his life of activism and struggle for justice had just begun.
As the lad grew into a young man, he became increasingly irked by the harsh realities of abject poverty and marginalization faced by his kinsmen. He refused to sit idly by and watch his people’s God-given resources filtered away by the state and their crony oil majors, leaving little or nothing for the host communities. So, in the nineties, he embarked on a journey of self-discovery, driven by a deep-seated desire to make a difference in his impoverished region. It was this conviction that propelled him towards a life of purpose and service. The young man knew that the chose a difficult path. He understood that the road to justice is often long and arduous, fraught with setbacks and sacrifices. Yet, in his conviction, he understood that the journey would be worth it – that every step taken towards a just and equitable society would bring his people closer to the promise of a brighter future.
Born on the first of June 1964, Melford had his early-years education in Portharcourt before proceeding to the University of Calabar and the Rivers State University to pursue short-lived degrees in Law. He thereafter converted to Islam and changed his name to Mujahid Abubakar Dokubo-Asari to reflect his new staunch faith, one he is deeply devoted to. Fondly called Asari, he co-founded the Ijaw Youth Council (IYC) in 1998 andbecame the group’s president in 2001. In what became known as the “Kiama Declaration,” he led the group to pursue “resource control and self-determination by every means necessary,” a position that attracted government’s crackdown of its members. Three years later, he created the Niger Delta People’s Volunteer Force (NDPVF), which emerged as major power to confront what he referred to as “the injustice meted out to the people of the Niger Delta resulting from oil exploitation in the region.”
Interestingly, over two decades-and-half after his life of activism began, Asari’s kinsmen appreciate his sterling contribution to the Niger Delta region since the nineties. They say he towers as the lion that fight for rights of the region’s inhabitants. Indeedvery few philanthropists stand should-to-shoulder with him in this regard. Talk about human capital development – he presently employs well over 3000 Niger Deltans working for him, with least paid taking home thrice the minimum wage. He says it is better to empower people to fend for themselves than build white elephant projects that have little impact on the people’s livelihood. Brick by brick, Asari is transforming the landscape of his community with forests and swamps giving way to the kind of structures you only find in cosmopolitan cities. His knack for education knows no bounds. Besides his thriving Sports Academy, he is establishing schools for children of all ages. His Open University, which will enroll students that are unable to gain admission into the regular universities, will open later this year with over 30 courses already in its kitty. He is in a hurry to develop his native Kalabari communities which, in his words, will trigger economic activities that will organically migrate people from the big cities to the hinterland.
Asari loves to dream. And dream big. His vision to provide uninterrupted power and water supply to his community presently keeps him up at night. “We’re setting up ObuamaUtility Company to be able to achieve this,” he declares. “It is a tall dream but Insha Allah we shall achieve it.” Small wonder he has a cult-like following among his kinsmen, especially the youth. Many are willing to give their lives for him in demonstration of their commitment to his cause and beliefs. In recognition of his contribution to the development of his community, he was recently installed as Edi Abali of the Kingdom of Kalabari – a title he so proudly flaunts.
Months of Asari’s struggle for the rights of his people have turned to years and years to decades. He now devotes his life to restoring the dignity of his kinsmen and positioning them firmly in the nation’s polity, reversing what he refers to as “the battered moral fabric of the Ijaw man.” Although many see him as an unrepentant Niger Delta militant, a toga he vehemently detests, he has since gone full circle, transiting from the armed confrontation that characterized the struggle for self-determination in the nineties to somewhat of a Niger Delta nationalist. He says some unscrupulous people have cashed in on the volatile situation in the region to indulge in illegal bunkering, kidnapping and other criminalities. But he has vowed to curtail these crimes. “Killing of innocent, unharmed people is not part of Ijaw beliefs,” he recently told a local news media. “Hostage-taking is evil. It has brought easy wealth, laziness, criminality in our midst and has destroyed the moral fabric of the Ijaw man.”
As Asari turns 60, here are a dozen insights very few know about him. They range from the bizarre to the mundane. One. He has never been behind the wheels of a vehicle. Why? Because he can’t drive. And he doesn’t plan to. Two. He avidly loves children. If he had his way he would have several scores of them. Three. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smoke. As a devout Muslim, his faith frowns at them. Four. He doesn’t run. He sayshe has no reason to. Five. He gravely detests injustice and oppression in any form. He believes that every human being has the right to dignity and freedom, a right he says has been freely given by God.
Six. Like the elephant that Asari is, he never forgets. Treat him good, bad or ugly, it will stick with him forever. For clarity, ask Presidents Obasanjo and Tinubu – both have seen two sides of his coin. Seven. He doesn’t keep much friends. He acknowledges that the best of a human being is still a human being – one with frailties and shortcomings. So he’d rather keep to himself. Eight he doesn’t socialize. You’ll never catch him in a shindig of any sort. Nine. He values loyalty. For him, nothing else comes close. He’ll always say “don’t burn bridges; always leave room for reconciliation.” Ten. He has an amazing sense of history. His favourite pastime is to banter over medieval history. He is currently sponsoring the compilation of what would become the most comprehensive compendium of Kalabari history. “We’re losing our identity as a people. Our children know little or nothing about our past,” he blurts. “This must stop!” And he is doing something about it. He plans to build a modern museum of Ijaw and Kalabari history in Buguma, the traditional headquarters of the Kalabaris. Eleven. He loves to nibble on almonds. Lots of almonds. Twelve, and last but not least. He’s a true homeboy. He lives among his people just to feel their pulse and stay in tune with their realities. He doesn’t own a home outside his community; not even in the bustling oil-rich capital city of Portharcourt. His family and friends thought he was crazy when in 2017 he sold off all his properties in Portharcourt and moved to his hometown.
As a father and family man, Asari’s love knows no bounds. Despite the dangers and uncertainties that come with his activism, he has remained a pillar of strength and support for his loved ones; a beacon of hope in seasons of darkness. His children look up to him not just as a leader, but as a role model – a living testament to the values of courage, compassion, and resilience.
Soft-spoken and an easy-going, Asari is passionate about his convictions, especially on matters bordering on fairness and justice. His six decades’ sojourn on earth isn’t just a chronicle of activism and leadership; it’s a testament to the human capacity for courage, compassion, and unwavering dedication to the cause of justice. His leadership is not defined by grand gestures or lofty speeches, but by the quiet strength of his character and the depth of his empathy. What really sets him apart from other leaders is his unwavering belief in the power of love – in the transformative potential of compassion and solidarity. He understands that true leadership is not about wielding power or authority, but about lifting others up, about standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the oppressed and the marginalized, about fighting for their rights as if they were his own.
On that faithful Saturday evening in October 1981, little Melford didn’t just fight to liberate a wrongly accused person; he engendered what would metamorphose into a legacy of courage, compassion, and unwavering dedication to justice. Today, Asaricontinues to inspire not a few to stand up, speak out, and fight for what is right. Judging from his activities since the early eighties, he reminds us that the struggle for justice is not a sprint, but a marathon – one that requires patience, perseverance, and above all, a belief in the inherent dignity and worth of every human being. His achievements serve as a guiding light in our own journeys towards a just and equitable society. Thanks to him, many will never forget the power of love – to heal, unite, and transform even the darkest of days into a brighter tomorrow.
➢ Bagshaw is an entrepreneur and lives in Lagos.
