This record is a partial extract of the original cable. The full text of the original cable is not available.

UNCLAS SECTION 01 OF 02 LAGOS 002232 
 
SIPDIS 
 
 
E.O. 12958: N/A 
TAGS: ECON PGOV SOCI NI
SUBJECT: ALL POLITICS IS LOCAL:  TEX-MEX MEETS EDO OGA 
 
Unclassified but Sensitive 
 
SIPDIS 
 
 
¶1.  (SBU)  Summary:  Chief Odidi of Edo State spent 18 years 
in the U.S., became a U.S. citizen, and made enough money to 
return to his native town and go into politics.  While in the 
U.S., he absorbed American values and political culture, and 
now balances those ideas and aspirations against the 
realities of life as a "big man" in a small Nigerian town. 
End summary. 
 
 
¶2.  (SBU)  Greeting cards in Nigeria have grown steadily 
larger and now rival sheets of drywall in size and weight. 
Chief Stanley Okpo Odidi, Chairman of the Etsako East Local 
Government Council and recent resident of Hemet, California, 
has many of these standing around his office.  They 
congratulate him on his assumption of office two months ago 
and, indirectly, on the successful conclusion of his patient, 
extended campaign to oust his predecessor and have the 
governor of Edo State appoint him interim local government 
chairman until next year's election. 
 
 
¶3.  (SBU)  Odidi moved to Texas in 1981 and worked there for 
six years before moving to California.  He washed dishes and 
drove cabs before seeing an advertisement for a training 
course as a private investigator.  He took the course and 
became very good at it.  He lived in his car eating Tex-Mex 
(which he misses) for days on stakeouts, went into business 
with his former instructor, and became an American citizen. 
And he made a bundle, enough to launch himself into local 
Nigerian politics.  He came back to Nigeria in 1999, within a 
month of the resumption of civilian rule, to the town of 
Agenabode where his father had been a chief. 
 
 
¶4.  (SBU)  Chief Odidi senior, however, had been dead more 
than 20 years.  Stanley had to remind people who he was, but 
enough of a light bulb went on in people's heads to help him 
get a foothold.  Money was the key ingredient, he says. "It 
doesn't take much...a thousand dollars goes a long way here." 
 He helped a lot of people out financially and was generous 
with little favors.  And not so little:  he built a 
"hospital" with his own funds (it may have been only a 
clinic) and constructed a little school.  Other people in the 
district say he became active in the PDP.  He got close to 
people close to the governor of Edo State and used them to 
get a high-profile meeting with the governor that was covered 
in the press. 
 
 
¶5.  (SBU)  Money is essential, but it is also the key 
vulnerability of Nigerian local politics, Odidi says. 
Nigerians do not have a clear sense of the public good, and 
are really only interested in what politicians can do for 
them directly.  They are in a real sense very selfish, he 
says; they think about themselves and their families, and the 
rest is of no interest.  They would rather vote for a 
politician who gives them a small cash "dash" than one who 
will build clinics, schools and roads.  "It is hard to get 
people to think about 'issues,'" says Odidi.  If the voters 
really had their way, no money would be spent on public 
projects; the money for them would be split up and handed out 
directly to the electorate.  This makes Odidi feel 
vulnerable.  No matter how good a job he does, he can easily 
lose to someone who hands out a lot of money, as he did: 
"money wins every time." 
 
 
¶6.  (SBU)  Odidi wants to do a good job.  His years of 
exposure to American political culture were "tremendous" in 
many ways, he says.  He can still give a blow-by-blow account 
of the Huffington/Boxer race in California and has adopted an 
American-style notion of community service.  Many of his 
Nigerian friends who were in the U.S. were similarly 
influenced and have come back to try to do something for the 
common good.  The notion of coming back to Nigeria to work 
for the country is not very Nigerian, he says; it isn't 
selfish.  He is quite aware of the impossibility of 
introducing American style democracy here.  His notion is to 
try to "marry the two ideas," the American and Nigerian 
approaches to governance and the public sphere, and move 
people along slowly, helping them appreciate the benefit of 
public institutions. 
 
 
¶7.  (SBU)  In the meantime there is the problem of getting 
his staff to come to work.  And dealing with the 50 or so 
people a day who come in to the secretariat because they are 
hungry or need school fees or clothing.  Asked what the 
district needs most, he says "everything."  The area is 
"completely poor" and has nothing, but (particularly among 
older people) there is not necessarily a sense of being poor. 
 People feel themselves to be "ordinary;" they have farmed 
all their lives, have no standard of comparison with people 
elsewhere, and are accustomed to making do with little. 
Young people, however, are aware of the outside world and are 
conscious of their poverty.  They are angry and frustrated by 
it but have no idea what to do.  They don't believe education 
will lead anywhere as there are no local role models who have 
done well through education.  They may work as motor bike 
drivers, earning perhaps 300 naira a week if they rent the 
bike and 1000 naira if they own it.  "But don't think they 
are going to revolt," he said. "People here are quite docile." 
 
 
¶8.  (SBU)  What youth don't want to do is farm.  They look 
down on it as old fashioned, demeaning, hard work.  Within 
the borders of the district is a well-equipped agricultural 
school supported by the Leventis Foundation offering free 
education, room and board to promising young farmers for 
year-long courses.  Not one student from the district is 
there, but Odidi knows that better farming is the community's 
only way out and is trying to help farmers modernize.  This 
area is Nigeria's agricultural heartland.  The district 
supported Nigeria's largest farm until it collapsed with the 
removal of tariffs on imported grains.  Odidi has thus far 
organized 40 farmers into loose cooperatives to benefit from 
the tractor the district is about to buy.  He is also looking 
into other ways to improve agriculture:  seeds, new crops, 
etc.  The transport of produce to market, however, is an 
unresolved problem, as the difference between local and urban 
prices demonstrates.  A box of tomatoes selling for 4000 
naira in Lagos costs 100 naira locally, Odidi said.  Much 
local produce just rots. 
 
 
¶9.  (SBU)  Comment:  "There are lots of people like me," says 
Odidi, "younger, well-travelled Nigerians who have come back 
to help change things."  At his suggestion we visited one of 
his fellow district chairmen (in Auchi) and found someone 
considerably less comfortable in English but who nevertheless 
had run a modern business and had visited the US for trade 
fairs and training seminars.  What we find interesting in 
Odidi is the calculated blend of old and new:  the cronyism, 
the unabashed use of money, ancient ties and chiefly 
traditional authority by someone who knows why Boxer beat 
Huffington and who wants to move his community into a future 
it doesn't know exists.  Odidi has followed in his father's 
footsteps as a Nigerian "big man," but he frets about his 
next election opponent and waits impatiently for someone to 
bring him his next cache of tortillas and refried beans. 
GREGOIRE