THIS reflection unfolds in three parts, each drawing from the voices of those who have shared in my journey, offering layered insights into the continuing search for identity, legacy, and purpose.
Family and friends have started the countdown to my eighty-eighth birthday. The reminders come with warmth, sometimes with laughter, but always with a certain reverence as if each mention of my age carries a deeper meaning. As the day approaches, I find myself, more than ever, turning inward. Not simply reflecting on the years gone by, but engaging in a quiet, personal excavation of memory, purpose, and identity. My birthdays over the years have become sacred rituals of introspection. I have never been drawn to noise or grand celebration. Instead, they offer me a recurring opportunity to withdraw to think not just about my own life, but about life itself: about nature, about the earth beneath us and the sky above, about the waters that flow endlessly, and the deserts that remain vast, open, and strangely comforting in their emptiness.
Among all the natural wonders that have captured my imagination, none have held me quite like the Sahara Desert and the vastness of outer space. Both speak in silence, one through endless stretches of golden sand, the other through infinite blackness pierced by distant stars. Untouched, unclaimed, yet full of presence. There’s a peculiar truth buried in that silence: the truth of insignificance and the potential of self-awareness. The desert does not shout. It simply is. And in its vast stillness, one is forced to confront oneself.
It brings to mind Shakespeare’s words: “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts.” In the presence of such vastness, the stage feels fleeting, the roles momentary. Yet it is in this realisation that we begin to grasp the value of each act, each breath, each moment of being.
Over the course of my life, I have been privileged to witness the world from many unique vantage points. I have fished in mighty rivers and open oceans, walked and hunted in ancient forests, and stood beneath trees that have seen centuries pass. I have flown aboard the Concorde, soaring fifty-five thousand feet above the earth’s surface, looking down at our planet’s curvature, the way the clouds folded around it like a thin veil. It was humbling. From that height, you realize how small our individual footprints are, and how much of the world exists entirely without our interference. These experiences were not just adventures; they were revelations. They peeled back the layers of distraction and reminded me of the question that has quietly followed me through life: Who am I, really?
Years ago, in this same column, I penned a piece titled “Don’t You Know Who I Am?” Reflecting on my journey and the pursuit of power, I acknowledge the prevalent Nigerian phrase, “Don’t you know who I am?” This phrase often signifies a hunger for power, a desire to assert oneself. In the prologue of my book, “Hunger for Power,” I delve into the notion that understanding power is central to my quest, recognizing that many who use such phrases lack self-awareness. It wasn’t written from a place of arrogance, but rather from a deep yearning. I wanted people to consider the selves they had buried under duty, ambition, fear, and routine. I wanted to spark a conversation about identity not the one given to us by others, but the one we discover in solitude, in quiet, and in communion with something greater than ourselves.
For over half a century, I’ve engaged in a profound exploration of self, grappling with questions of human existence and purpose. Why was I created as a human? What am I meant to do, to take, and to give back? It’s a journey that began 87years ago, departing my mother’s womb for life on planet Earth, the only known abode of life in the vast universe. This relentless pursuit has driven me through diverse experiences. At the age of 27, I set out on a solitary expedition, driving from London through Europe, crossing the Mediterranean, and journeying across the vast Sahara Desert to Nigeria. That experience awakened in me a deeper sense of responsibility, eventually leading me to seek accreditation with the United Nations Convention to Combat Desertification. Nearly four decades ago, driven by a passion for preserving Africa’s rich history and cultural legacy, I attempted to establish a private museum in Lagos.
My commitment to honouring African icons later inspired the creation of a monument in tribute to Nelson Mandela, motivated by the United Nations’ declaration that the world would be a better place if more people lived by Mandela’s values. And yet, despite these milestones, I find myself still on a journey; a journey inward. I continue to search for a deeper understanding of who I am. Alongside family, friends, co-writers, and loyal readers of my weekly column, I seek clarity not only about my identity, but about the purpose that shapes my existence.
In this reflection, I draw on the perspectives of those who have walked closely with me: family, friends, and longtime associates whose insights continue to shape and enrich my ongoing journey of self-discovery. My cousin, Mr. Onuorah Aligbe, whom I have known for half a century, wrote from Atlanta, Georgia, in response to my earlier article titled “Don’t You Know Who I Am?” offering reflections that helped deepen the questions I continue to explore today; he stated;
Dr. Newton C. Jibunoh is my Uncle. By DNA, he is actually my Cousin, once removed. He is my mother’s cousin, but because my mother had no maternal brother, my mother saw him as a younger brother, and so I earned the right to call him my Uncle. He always introduced me to his guests and friends first as his colleague and his former Deputy Managing Director when he was the Chairman/CEO of Costain (West Africa) Plc. The ease with which he would say it belies the simplicity with which he achieved that transformation of my person.
The first time I met my Uncle was in 1967 when he drove home to our hometown in his 1500cc Volkswagen saloon car during the famous Sahara crossing. I was eleven years old then, but the historical drive across the Sahara had been top news in my secondary school, so I was aware of it. At home, my Grandma, who was never an extrovert, was ecstatic that the nephew, whom she considered a son, was home after his studies in England. I got introduced to him, he ruffled my hair, and that was it. I had a big story to tell in school.
Twelve years later, I met him for the second time when I went to him in search of a job at the end of my national service. In place of a job, he sent me off on his scholarship to get a master’s degree. At the end of my course, he helped to secure a job for me in an engineering firm. Six years later, he invited me to join him in Costain (West Africa) Plc, as a Senior Engineer. With time, and being a member of the team of management in three companies where he held directorship positions I found him to be a firm apostle of the indigenisation policies of the Federal Government in the last three decades of the 20th Century. In CWA, the management employed qualified Nigerian professionals and specialist subcontractors in the execution of our contracts, ensuring that the quality of the completed projects and delivery times were not compromised. To make sure they were well-rounded, engineers and managers were routinely sent to Costain in the UK for specific training and development.
Initially, most clients were sceptical but after inspecting completed projects which we willingly gave them tours of, they went along with us by awarding us the contracts we sought. Such was his belief in the capabilities of our home-grown professionals that many times he defended the use of local personnel in our projects even over the threats of losing the contracts. Other times, Employers would demand that he provide his guarantees for our performance, often in addition to company guarantees already in place, and he would willingly comply using his personal properties or holdings as collateral. This was only known to the top management. I marvelled at these, seeing how committed he was, and seeing how workers would sometimes deliberately want to drag out a project completion schedule over inconsequential demands that could be solved through negotiations.
******
IN this second part of my three-part reflection, I explore how my lifelong passion for culture, environmental stewardship, and nation-building has become deeply entwined with my personal journey of self-discovery. We continue by drawing from the rich perspective of my cousin, Mr. Onuorah Aligbe, whose reflections on my life’s journey offer not only personal insight but also a deeper lens into the values, convictions, and passions that have shaped my path over the decades.
Uncle Newton’s love for the Arts and the Nigerian culture was boundless. Every artist was his friend whose works he must collect. When he ran out of rooms in his house to display them, he built a Museum at the site of a house he had to pull down. That house was fetching him extra income as a rented building. I asked him if he was going to be charging fees at the museum. He replied, “maybe, or maybe not.” He clearly was not seeing it as it was and did not intend to have it become a commercial business. His motive was to teach us all how to preserve our arts and promote our artists. Today, artists hold exhibitions at the museum, and some others hold training sessions there as well. The fees they pay are not at all commensurate with a commercial venue.
At the age of 67, my Uncle decided to make a second trip alone across the Sahara. With the belief that I might talk him out of it, seeing that his wife was at tenterhooks over this solo expedition, I asked him to reconsider. His response to me came in two-fold. Firstly, he told me he needed to convince himself that he actually drove across the Sahara alone in 1967. Secondly, he decided to co-opt me into the planning to calm my nerves. The expedition was a success, and 5 years later, he was ready for a third one, this time with five other volunteers. Though I was by this time accustomed to his idiosyncrasies and his quest for a sustainable environment through his NGO, FADE, I could not follow him on this third trip. I stayed behind as the head of Mission Control, tracking their every movement. Such were the details of his planning that would give anyone the confidence to join him. Kelechi Amadi Obi, an artist who had exhibited at the Museum in the past, joined the team ten days before departure. At the meeting we held to evaluate his request and his preparedness, he declared that the plan he had seen on the ground had removed every ounce of doubt in his mind and was prepared to ride in the booth of the second SUV if we had no space for him. We added a third SUV to accommodate him.
Before living for the second solo expedition across the Sahara, he established a Non- Non-Governmental Organisation called FADE, Fight against Desert Encroachment. This has been the vehicle in his crusade for environmental sustainability. Over the years, and deriving from the successes of the NGO, state governments in Nigeria and some African governments have partnered with him on many environmental projects. He is an Environmental Ambassador for the Lagos State Government. He established the Tree planting competition among secondary schools in Kano State. He established the Makoda Forest programme in Kano State to prove to the people that arable lands can be recovered from the desert. He started the Desert Warrior Reality Show in collaboration with Lagos State and the National Government of the Republic of Niger. He has partnered with MTN Ltd on tree-planting Campaigns. From a little, casually planned drive across the Sahara, Dr Newton Jibunoh created a movement that became a pioneer in a privately driven advocacy platform for climate change issues of our time in Nigeria. At various times, he had been a guest of the United States Government, the People’s Republic of China, Israel, and the Desert Research Institute in Bonn, Germany to propagate his experiences and acquire new techniques in his crusade for a sustainable environment.
ON my 85th birthday, my friend and colleague from London, Mr. Akin Olukiran, wrote the following column:
Fast forward ten years later to 1st January 2023, Dr Newton Jibunoh, the Desert Conqueror, has the enviable grace to repeat that great feat as he turns 85, increasing the number of trees to be planted by ten. Not many people have this kind of opportunity that our own Dr Jibunoh has been providentially blessed with. It is as though, as the 75 trees planted in Lagos 10 years ago are blossoming, so is Dr Jibunoh, receiving a new level of energy and youthfulness, matched with an unquenchable zeal for an innovative approach to his environmental campaigns. It was after his 75th birthday and the planting of 75 trees that Dr Jibunoh conceived the idea of birthing the Nelson Mandela Garden of 95 Trees project in Asaba, his home state, where he had 95 trees planted in honour of the great Madiba to celebrate his 95th birthday. And so it was that on 18th July 2013, in his steadfast and committed nature, 95 trees were planted in Asaba by notable guests, including the grandson of our iconic Mandela himself, Ndaba Mandela and one of his granddaughters.
Located within the Asaba international airport perimeters, the Nelson Mandela Gardens and Parks will form the epicentre of the 85th birthday tree-planting event. An acclaimed pacesetter, it gladdened his heart when we discovered that shortly after his emblematic tree-planting event in Lagos ten years ago, it became fashionable among the elite, especially of Lagos, to mark their birthdays with tree planting. I have no doubt that this is going to have the same contagious effect as it did in Lagos, as Deltans would be encouraged to plant trees to mark their special days, thereby unwittingly saving our fragile planet from climate change effects. A man with the Midas touch, in his unrelenting commitment to excellence, he has turned the Mandela Gardens and Parks in Asaba into a resoundingly successful, world-class tourist centre in the capital of Delta State.
I never knew that one could successfully and comfortably take on a new profession after the very ripe age of 80, especially one that tasks the brain and requires a lot of personal discipline to meet the strict deadlines and rigours of research materials. After becoming an octogenarian five years ago, Dr Jibunoh saw the print media as a veritable channel to carry his environmental campaign to people’s homes and reach a greater number of people every week. He started a weekly column in the reputable Sun newspaper, writing every Thursday on subjects relating to the environment and national development in general. I remember when he first mooted the idea of writing with me, I scoffed and told him it was an arduous task that even I, as a young man, could not commit myself to, packing it up after three months of being a columnist.
To my admiration and indeed, pleasant surprise, five years on, and over 200 articles and still counting, the indefatigable Dr Jibunoh has defied all odds and taken on a new profession of journalism and thriving in it. I, like thousands of others, look forward to his weekly articles, which are informative, fearlessly bold, full of history and wisdom and laced with light humour. Dr Jibunoh never ceases to amaze me as he constantly reinvents himself and is refreshingly sanguine about the future of Nigeria, ceaselessly proffering solutions to our myriad challenges. He is so focused on leaving this world a better place for his children’s children and by extension, the rest of humanity that he is not prepared to stop spreading the message on the environment. The Scripture says that a good man leaves an inheritance for his children’s children (Prov. 13:22). The greatest inheritance he wishes to leave behind is a better world that his children’s children can share with the rest of humanity, is sustainable and addresses the alarming growth in the size of the Sahara Desert and its attendant environmental, social and economic consequences.
****
IN the final instalment of this article, I turn to my long-time friend, Dan Inneh, the former Secretary to the Oba of Benin, whose reflections offer yet another layer of richness to my life’s journey, and share his perspective on my journeys and my life, adding a layer of richness to our shared journey:
Chief Newton Chuka Jibunoh is easily one of Nigeria’s finest men. A fine gentleman and a model for many who would want to live a straight and open life, a life of private peace and dignity. I have known Chief Jibunoh since 1984, during my years as Secretary to the Oba of Benin. In these years, I found him a man who follows up matters concerning all those who come close to him with keen interest, characteristic of a well-meaning guardian. Yet, in most of these cases, he was neither a guardian nor a family relative but one with largeness of heart, always willing to help. From my heart at all times, it is bravo to Chief Newton Jibunoh.
A nationalist who is not a Politician, Chief Jibunoh has continued to express the Nationalist content in him through Art. A collector of Nigerian artworks, he established Didi Museum at Akin Adesola Road in Victoria Island on May 11 1983. The Museum was founded in memory of Edik Jibunoh (Didi), his sister with whom he was very close, but who died at an early age. It is significant that in setting up the Museum, he opened a new chapter in his Nationalist drive. He requested his Royal Highness, Alhaji Ado Bayero, the Emir of Kano, to inaugurate it. His Highness, Emir of Kano, was also appointed the Chairman of the Board of Trustees. The opening and exhibition attracted a great number of visitors, well over one thousand guests. It was his view that through Artworks, African’s contributions to the general human race accomplishments would be appreciated.
It was a huge encouragement to private Art Collectors, even Ekpo Eyo, who was the Director General of the National Commission of Museums and Monuments at the time, described it as excellent and the first of its kind by a private citizen.
The mission and vision of the Didi Museum was to serve as a forum for research and preservation of art and culture, and through these vehicles promote the exhibition of contemporary artworks. The mission, among others, was intended to promote learning for the younger generation about our African cultural heritage. In order to encourage scholarship, poetry, and literary works were to be encouraged, particularly amongst students and teachers. The mission and vision are growing as the desire to create a local market for cultural works of Art is now well included.
Now, Didi Museum offers services which include rentals of a multipurpose hall and Boardroom for special events, particularly for training, poetry and jazz nights. I had the privilege to accompany Omo N’Oba N’Edo, Uku Akpolokpolo, Oba Erediauwa, Oba of Benin, to Didi Museum two times. I am aware that His Majesty, Olubuse II, the Oni of Ife, visited Didi Museum. Many Traditional Rulers and some political figures visit the Didi Museum in a welcoming spirit to encourage its creation. I attended the event when Mrs. Maryam Babangida also visited.