You Must Set Forth at Dawn by Wole Soyinka Page B

neophytes in apprentice nation-states? I became restless with the knowledge that I was fortuitously placed to lend a hand, thanks to relationships I had developed with one or two figures in the British establishment while undergoing my apprenticeship at the Royal Court Theatre in London. An interventionist tendency had begun to manifest itself in my temperament, though I was yet to become fully conscious of it. I scraped together what money I could find, borrowed the rest, bought a ticket, and flew to London to add my own quota to the lobby against his extradition, profiting from my friendship with Tom Driberg, an enfant terrible of the British Labour Party, and Lord Kenneth of the House of Lords, whom I had known in his plebeian days as Wayland Young.
    To my astonishment, the battle was lost. The space of political sanctuary had always seemed a universal given; now it appeared that there had been huge gaps in my history education. Tony Enahoro was flown home to stand trial, like the others, on the charge of treasonable felony. He was found guilty and joined his leader, Awolowo, and other party leaders for a long sojourn in prison.
    THE RULING PARTY and its allies could now afford to throw all democratic restraint to the wind, the opposition having been demonized and discredited. The government was now well placed to lay claim to the mantle of democratic defenders even as it engaged in undemocratic conduct. Alas, it had completely misread the mood of the West!
    Long before the convictions, the emergency had ended, the worthy doctor had retired to his clinic, but not without first restoring order—that is, overseeing the emergence of the breakaway party, the NNDP, as master of the West, with its leader, Ladoke Akintola, as premier. In the federal chamber, the NCNC, having served its purpose, found itself increasingly marginalized, fed only crumbs from the “national cake.” The honeymoon was over, and the NCNC filed its divorce papers, citing spousal abuse and public humiliation. It was promptly replaced by the bride in waiting, the NNDP.
    The power of incumbency now decided electoral results. The Action Group, leaderless, lost direction. It would boycott elections, reverse itself, box itself into strategic corners, retreat, lick its wounds, reorganize, and await the next elections. From his prison cell, Obafemi Awolowo gradually acquired the image of a victim of political intrigue and injustice, a martyred visionary and leader, thanks to NNDP misgovernment and repressive measures. There was no ambiguity about it—the NNDP was unpopular. The West seethed with resentment.
    The regional elections of 1965 approached. Virtually every woman and child, the aged and ailing, donned their battle gear in readiness for a desperate fight. For that contest, the Action Group teamed up with the former partner of the ruling party—the NCNC—to form a new coalition, the United Progressive Grand Alliance (UPGA). The alliance boosted the morale of both the Action Group and the Western electorate. Tacticians were exchanged. Badly needed resources flowed into the strangulated coffers of the Action Group. The region simmered as even the normally apolitical prepared for what they embraced as a revenge match, where scores would be settled definitively and the world would know just who enjoyed the people’s support. It would prove to be a contest between terror and resistance into which I would be drawn for my first taste of political blood.
    MY LIFE OF SPONSORED and footloose research—and private theatrical activities—ended at the University of Ibadan in 1962. After a few months’ unemployment, I transferred to the University of Ife to earn an honest living as a lecturer in the English Department; Ife’s temporary campus was then still located in Ibadan, the seat of government of the Western Region. The NNDP government, which now ruled the West, was proprietor of the university—and this was where the