A man born to conquer fear from a very young age, Chief Dr Newton Jibunoh is Nigeria’s leading environmental campaigner and the founder of the Fight Against Desert Encroachment (FADE) Africa. Born in January 1938, this ‘Desert Warrior,’ Jibunoh, is a towering figure built from firsthand experiences, having crossed the Sahara Desert four times. He embarked upon two solo expeditions in 1966 and 2000. The third expedition in 2008 was in the company of five other desert warriors. In 2011, Dr Jibunoh partnered with the Lagos State Government to establish the first-ever Green Reality TV Show called “Dr Newton Jibunoh’s Desert Warriors Reality Show.” For him, braving near-death encounters and isolated terrains is a liberation- one that could change how we see our world. He has since published books on his desert experience with titles such as “Me, My Desert and I” and “Bridging the Sahara Desert: A Different Perspective.” As a trained engineer in Soil Mechanics, former Chairman of Costain West Africa, and founder of Nigeria’s first private museum, DIDI Museum, Dr Jibunoh has spent his life bridging industry, culture, and nature. Easing away from the busy Lagos to enjoy nature, he is far from retirement, as he currently serves as Chairman of Nelson Mandela Gardens, a conservation resort in Asaba, Delta State. In this interview with Yinka Olatunbosun, he shares his unapologetic views on retirement, pan-Africanism, art collection, and preserving cultural heritage.
You have spent a lifetime crossing deserts and building institutions. How are you redefining “rest”?
For me, rest means going under six feet below. But despite age, as long as one is still able to stand on one’s feet, you’d move around and get engaged. Occasionally, you’d want to rest from pressure and stressful engagements, but what matters to me is mental, physical and spiritual wellbeing.
As an engineer, environmentalist, and explorer, what has been your guiding philosophy?
Believing in yourself. I have always believed in my ability to sometimes try the impossible. I think my initial adulthood was the era of the civil rights movement, the cultural revolution and having been part of the era, I felt the need to surmount the obstacles that divide us. When I hear people talk about the impossible, I have always been in a position to find out why it is impossible. That has been my driving force. Most of the time, I have been able to turn impossible things into possibilities. If I can do that for almost my entire life, I don’t see myself changing from that position.
What is the one project or legacy goal that you are most eager to hand over to the next generation, and what is the one you are keeping entirely for yourself?
What I am keeping to myself is investment in human capital. I have derived a lot of spiritual benefits, especially from those I have nurtured, counselled, and trained professionally. I can’t begin to name those people because they are countless. But when it comes to handing over, I think I will leave that to those I have nurtured and impacted. I would rather leave it to them. They are all over the place. Sometimes, I don’t even recognise them.
What did the solitude of the desert teach you about the human spirit?
I would like to go back to April 1964. I was still a student in the UK when Kwame Nkrumah made a statement stating that Africa would remain in darkness until the Sahara is breached. That touched me. I was in my twenties. And that was when the exploration started because Kwame Nkrumah was the voice for many of us, and I took the statement to heart. I think that must have been when it dawned on me that I needed to know more about the Sahara. The more I studied, the more I asked questions. That contributed immensely to why I decided to go. I had a friend in London who was supposed to go with me, but he backed out because of some frightening information around then, when we were making enquiries. But it exposed me to harshness.
What did you find?
I discovered that the entire continent of Africa cannot move from North to South nor from East to West because of the Sahara. The continent of Africa has to be the only continent in the world today where you cannot go from one end of the continent to another. Other continents have breached those walls. You can drive through, but you can’t do it in Africa because of the Sahara. I found out what Kwame Nkrumah means after the expedition(s), writing about it, talking about it and representing Nigeria at so many climate change conferences.
Even though I wouldn’t want to take credit for the whole debate today on climate change and global warming, it’s a long journey. To be able to breach the Sahara, the way I would have desired it, we are looking at another 50 or 100 years. But the conversation is ongoing. I have been trying to leave the conversation, but if it continues, then maybe our younger ones would be able to breach the Sahara.
In what ways has the “soul” of Africa changed the most since your historic first drive from London to Lagos in the 1960s?
I think what is paramount is the unity of the continent. Coups brought about 20 to 30 years of setbacks, and wars did the same. I don’t know if that unity is coming now. The continent is no longer united; we don’t even know our languages anymore. The Portuguese gave their language to all their islands. The French gave their language to the countries they were controlling. The British did the same, to the point that those languages have now become a barrier to attempts to unite the continent. I hope the FESTAC ’77 conversations can stir this issue to bring us back to where we should be – removing the barriers that divide us.
What motivated you towards collecting art and discussing desertification?
Visiting the British Museum in my 20s and reading taught me those artefacts and contributed to my returning to Nigeria to contribute to traditional institutions because they are the custodians of our traditional life. That led to my collecting art because at the time, the story is told about our lost heritage.
I started looking for a license to operate a private museum. I can mention that it was borne out of adventure and exploration, and of what Kwame Nkrumah said about what kept Africa in darkness. Also, many who were writing about the Sahara had not even been anywhere near it. But I have crossed the Sahara a couple of times, so I joined the debate. I started writing, and I went as far as going to the university in Israel to study the science of desertification. All that empowered me to become part of the debate.
With the explosive global rise of African music, digital art, and fashion, do you feel the current generation is successfully carrying the torch of Pan-Africanism?
I have always maintained that we have to keep looking for the things that unite us easily, rather than those that divide us. The explosion in the music and fashion industries has been due to the efforts of great, talented musicians like Fela Anikulapo Kuti. In bridging the gap, we have done very well. But there is still a lot to be done. Sports, for instance, the Nigerian Premier League or the Nigerian First Division League, should be one of the best in the African continent. University games have been relegated. What we have done with music and fashion, we also need to do in sports. We need to leave politics out of sports. In the city of London, there are over 15 stadiums that are full every weekend to watch a game. Look at what it does to the industry and the people. I think about how to bring back more sporting events and intellectual debates. I’m sorry to say, but politics is driving us apart. It is a lot of hard work to find those things to break the language and culture barrier. We need to break the ethnicity that is worrying us in this country.
What is your blueprint for a truly unified Africa?
We need to go back to the trans-Saharan highway project. It was conceived in the 60s and 70s, especially after my expedition. Very little is said today about it. I have travelled around, seen people’s way of life and managed to adapt. I have lived among the nomads, and borders don’t mean anything to me anymore. That is why I want us to know our neighbours. Until we get to doing that, this whole talk about African unity will be an illusion.
What were the first works you ever collected?
When I started the private museum, I went to see the Ooni of Ife, Oba Sijuade; the Oba of Benin, Erediauwa; the Obi of Onitsha; and the Emir of Kano. I consulted with them. And strangely enough, they ended up donating works to support my campaign. I made it clear that I wanted to rebuild whatever was left of the looted items. We Nigerians were even taking some of these things out of Nigeria to sell, not knowing what we had and not appreciating them. That made a lot of the traditional institutions very happy. And they decided to support my effort and tell me their stories. The artworks have stories. I will not tell you which work was my favourite out of respect for all those institutions that supported me. Those works of art formed the bedrock of my collection. I treasure them, and as I said, we take storytelling for granted, and there is a lot that people can take from this history. Sitting down with traditional institutions and hearing those stories encouraged me. Later, I embraced contemporary artworks. Today’s contemporary would be tomorrow’s antiquities. Many people don’t know that. I started relating to Prof. Ben Enwonwu, Erhabor Omokpae, Kenny Adams, and Bruce Onobrakpeya; they are masters who used their works to mirror the various stages of our development. Most of them are gone, but they recorded our history in their artworks. That is what the Didi Museum is about: using the art to tell our story.
If someone walks through your personal collection today, what overarching story does it tell about Newton Jibunoh?
When people walk through Didi Museum, or Didi Museum annex in Asaba today, they come out confused. Confused because a lot of them, for the first time, are beginning to see how rich the Nigerian art is and how important it is. The average Nigerian is a storyteller. You cannot be part of the Nigerian story without going to the art of this country. Picasso made it clear in his writings that he was influenced by African art. There are some artists who are trying to bring back that history. It gives me joy every time I see visitors at the museum and watch their reaction. A lot of them come out of it dazed. That was how I felt when I visited the British Museum in the 60s. I was dazed. Can you imagine an object lasting for 5000 to 6000 years? That’s why I decided to have an annex of Didi Museum in Asaba. The traditional ruler in Asaba has also launched a project to build a museum in Asaba.
How has your collection evolved alongside Nigeria’s political and social developments over the last few decades?
Fortunately, I have some learning with traditional institutions that came along with me on this journey 50 to 60 years ago. In addition, all the great masters wanted to exhibit at the Didi Museum. Osinowo, Onobrakpeya and Kenny Adams, who was a cartoonist. His cartoon almost got him into trouble. He used his cartoons to debate political issues and to follow developments. When he got out of trouble, he decided to go into contemporary works like painting and sculpting. Kenny is still working today, even in his 70s. I don’t like to take credit but I can’t tell you that there is hardly any art master today that didn’t go through Didi Museum.
At the time when it was not a fashionable thing to do, people were debating culture and ancient civilisations, music and the rest of it. I think we have touched a lot of artists. A couple of days ago, I was visited by the Society of Nigeria Artists. I know how they felt when they were leaving the museum. The journey is still on. When I started, people saw going to the university to study art as a no-go area. Parents wouldn’t allow it. Known artists then were seen as school dropouts. But today, we have professors. I think the Didi Museum contributed to that. Most of the works were given to me at a giveaway price. Works that are worth millions in Naira and other currencies. But the growth is here. I’m glad to be part of those who helped to change the value and the way people look at art. Artists are now millionaires.
How do we ensure that the wealth of our creative history remains accessible to the everyday African child?
Restitution. Bringing back our artefacts, that effort must continue. One thing is still troubling: we still don’t have a carbon-dating institution. We are not even sure that the works returned are the originals collected from us. If you want to do that, you have to go back to Europe to take the test. Look at that scenario. Your ivory mask is still being held in a British museum. If they decide to have a replica that looks original, unless you do a carbon dating structure on it, you can’t tell. The late Dr Ekpenyong, who was the director of the National Museum and Monuments in Nigeria, wrote that Nigeria is the third owner of Nigerian works of art. The first owner is Germany. Britain is second, and Nigeria is third. He went round the world, and I was part of the team that went with him to beg for some of the works to be returned, particularly the Ivory mask for the FESTAC ’77 ceremony. They refused, saying that the works had become part of their conquests. Collectors are gladly keeping them. Ben Enwonwu’s work “Tutu” was auctioned recently for six million pounds…
What is your vision for private collections and museums in Africa?
I have visited a number of collectors not only in Nigeria but also outside the country. I have collected from Senegal, Ghana, and Burkina Faso by just visiting and hearing their stories. A time will come, and they will get together and debate the African story. We need to know who we are and be able to relate to it; competing with the rest of the world in music, not just in size. That is something that will give me joy because I will go away from the scene knowing that the activism that I started 60 years ago is helping to reshape the continent. That’s my joy and reward.
