Her Parents Made the Ultimate Sacrifice for Democracy—She Continues the Fight | Short Film Showcase

[Music]

In 1983 my father was elected president of [Applause] Nigeria. He came with a platform that said hope; farewell to poverty. [Applause] We will appoint several women, not just one, not just two, not just three, but several women into the government of Nigeria. M.K.O. Abiola beat his opponent hands down everywhere. [Applause] The military and all the election, within the month of his victory, they didn't want a democratic system.

When I was appointed by Bill Clinton as Ambassador, I had expected that I would be presenting my credentials to Abiola and instead, there was a military coup that brought General Abacha into power. Long live the Federal Republic of Nigeria! The compound was completely surrounded by police, guards looking for my dad. His most recent action of declaring himself the president and Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces led to his arrest by the law enforcement agents. They put my father in jail in 1994, and that was when my mother became the leader of the pro-democracy movement.

Mrs. Abiola, what do you think Britain and America could do? First and foremost, they should embargo the oil. Second, they should freeze the accounts of these military rulers and politicians. We depended very much on Nigeria for oil; there was a reluctance to rock the boat. My mother organized many protests against the military, including the Oil Workers Union strike. She told us that she's fanatically committed to the annulment of the June 12 election result, and that if need be, if she has to pay the supreme price, she will defend that mandate.

My mother's phone was tapped by the military; every movement that she was making was being [Music] tracked. [Music] A car was ambushed; there was a gunshot to the tire so that the driver could not [Applause] [Music] drive. He turned back and he saw my mom's head like this; she had been shot through the [Music] head. [Music] In my mind, I saw her making a journey to the ancestral place, and I heard her thinking, "I don't need to stop; I don't need to turn around. Al knows what to do." And so she was dancing.

Kat had told us if she dies in the process, outside, I will step in her shoes, and she knew she would not disappoint the military leader who had had my mother assassinated, who had had my father incarcerated. He died mysteriously at the time that they were to release my father. The military announced that he died in jail. I believe that my father was killed.

I returned to Nigeria in 1999, within days of the military's transfer to civilian rule. I hadn't been home in a very long [Music] [Music] time. Aren't you worried that they turn you into a target, the Nigerian government? Aren't you worried about your safety? I think I'm a target if I do not speak out.

I moved into my mother's bedroom; nobody had lived there since she had been killed. A trial began into her assassination. Muhammad Abacha, the son of the military dictator, was charged with killing my mother, but the judge mysteriously said that the man had nothing to answer for, and I quizzed him, so he's free now. For the other two defendants, it was not going to be as easy for them to escape justice, so they kept stalling the case for many, many years, hoping that in time, people would forget the details of the crime that was committed.

At that point, I lost all faith in the judicial process. It became clear to me that people were not only forgetting my mother, who was killed in the course of the struggle; they were just forgetting all the women who had played a key role in demanding freedom and an end to military rule. I looked around at the government that came into power following a long and bitter struggle for democracy, and I saw a government that was over 98% men. Their concerns predominated in legislation.

One Nigerian woman dies every 10 minutes from complications in pregnancy and child [Music] birth; more than 500 newborns die daily. We have a government that doesn't recognize our needs, that doesn't recognize our rights, that doesn't recognize [Music] women. This situation is unacceptable.

If women do not come out to speak and demand that their lives be valued, it will continue; nothing will [Music] change. I wanted to empower the strongest voices for change as soon as possible, and so I created the Kind/Cate Initiative for Democracy. I think some of us women have a degree without even attending a school; that is the PhD that is the "pull her down" syndrome. They will want to pull you down by all means.

She's right; "pull her down" syndrome—I mean most women have it, but that's not the way it should be. When you see someone who can influence your environment, society, your beliefs positively, you should work with her. Because if she's uplifted, she's uplifting you; she's uplifting the nation.

So let us all hold hands together; we can—together we can—no! Because we may be looking at the next governor of Lagos State right across from us! Amen! You know, and if he's not in 5 years, we don't know what 10 years will [Music] bring.

My mother made the ultimate sacrifice, and I don't doubt that many more women will have to pay a price. I do not think that we have any other option because any society that is silencing its women has no future. [Music]