Editor’s note: In his regular column
for This Day Dele Momodu, a renowned Nigerian journalist, publisher,
businessman and Ovation International magazine owner, recalls his
experience of interviewing the controversial minister from Jonathan’s
past administration Diezani Alison-Madueke. The author notes
that she rarely granted interviews, but when she did, Diezani hardly
responded to the monumental gist from unrelenting talebearers.
Read the abstract of the article after the cut
I always wished to have a one-on-one interview with our own Alice in
Wonderland or Cleopatra, if you like. Such is the nature of gargantuan
fables around this mythical lady. She is the dream of every celebrity
reporter. A nice interview and some photo-shoot as icing would be no
mean achievement. There are few women in her mould anywhere at any time.
I was stunned when I got a call from my contact: “Are you available to meet Mrs Diezani Alison-Madueke on Thursday evening at a private location in London?”
I don’t know how many reporters would miss such humongous
opportunity. My response was an instant, yes. I was told the location
would be communicated to me one hour to the appointed time. That was
fine by me.
The only one I could trust to drive me on such a mission was my wife
accompanied by her younger sister. We got to the venue almost dead on
time and scanned the vicinity. Having read too many James Hadley Chase
novels in my school days, I expected to see some unobtrusive bodyguards
around if I looked well. I imagined I was right when I saw a dark stocky
man in suit prancing about furtively and restlessly. I pressed a buzzer
as instructed and the main door swung open. I approached one of the
elevators as directed and headed to a particular apartment where my
contact opened the door even before I knocked, and ushered me in.
I didn’t see my interviewee but only a fair lady, who looked vaguely
familiar. I took a comfortable position and waited with bated breath. I
was undergoing a stream of consciousness at supersonic speed. Where is
Madame Diezani? Will she meet me or chicken out? Would she open up or
just whet my appetite for nothing? How will I ask my satanic questions
and in what order? What can I do to make her relax and pour out her
heart? Can she trust anyone with her story in her present condition and
state of mind?
I was in this interior monologue when Madame Diezani herself
sauntered in. I stood up to greet her as she stretched out her hand: “My name is Diezani, the most misunderstood and abused Nigerian…”
I didn’t know whether to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’. I was perturbed and
disturbed. The Diezani before me was not the ebullient woman I used to
see on television and in newspapers. Her head had become a Sahara desert
of sorts almost totally bald with a sprinkle of freshly growing hair
all grey. She requested to sit on a classroom chair as her back was
hurting badly and she could not sit so low.
Wow, what a terrible time she must be having, I almost screamed out
but cautioned myself. Sitting across from me was a woman who was a
shadow of herself, almost like an apparition or ghost. I’m sure she saw
the horror in my face.
I fired shots at her in staccato fashion and raced through my
questions. I wanted to cover enough grounds before she returns to
hospital after this weekend. I asked about Jonathan, Chris Aire, Kola
Aluko and others linked to her in business transactions and otherwise.
She said as much as she possibly could in the little time available and
promised to say more later. The fair lady soon returned to stop our
session. I would have been atrociously wicked to ask for more time
though I felt she was in the mood to talk. She stood up delicately and
she and the two ladies with her disappeared into the cold night…
Details on This Day.
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