By Frank Meke
Understanding the power of perception and the delicate balance that leadership demands, I have deliberately refrained for the past ten months from publicly commenting on the internal turmoil within the Association of Tourism Practitioners of Nigeria (ATPN).
This reflection—likely my first and last public commentary on the ongoing struggle between darkness and light—is not intended to suggest that all hope is lost, nor is it meant to sensationalize events or imply the existence of any failed transactional dealings. It is simply an honest account.
The current implosion in ATPN mirrors the failures that, years ago, gave birth to the Federation of Tourism Associations of Nigeria (FTAN). When institutions are built around personalities rather than solid visions, systems, and democratic values, their collapse becomes inevitable—like the proverbial Humpty Dumpty.
ATPN was founded by Alabo Mike Amachree, a generous hotelier whose commitment to tourism development in Nigeria has always been unparalleled. He is convivial, wise, unpretentious, and selflessly dedicated to cultural tourism—not merely to ATPN. Though he may not own a five-star hotel, his impact remains profound. It is shocking that neither the Rivers State Government nor the Federal Government has honoured him suitably for his patriotism.
Yet, in retrospect, his greatest weakness in forming ATPN was building it around himself. Early disciples who benefited from his generosity and financial strength did little to help institutionalize the association. When realities replaced praise-singing, conflict emerged.
Another key pillar of early ATPN was the late Chief Samuel Oresajo—urban, simple, unassuming. Though he ran a modest eatery in Ebute-Metta, he was the intellectual engine behind the founder. When crises erupted, he became the only mediator who truly understood both Amachree and the younger members seeking change.
That younger group—led by Jimi Alade, the late Segun Oyedeji, Deji Adeleye, and others—demanded that Amachree step down after over a decade in office. Gani “Tarzan” Balogun sympathized but tactfully danced between both sides.
In my typical peace-driven manner, I volunteered to lead the reformists to Abuja to meet Alhaji Tukur Mani, then a top federal bureaucrat. Our delegation included Jimi Alade, late Segun Oyedeji, Deji Adeleye, Mrs. Victoria Soluade, Gani Tarzan Balogun, and myself. Our goal was to seek a peaceful resolution and federal guidance since tourism then fell under the Ministry of Commerce.
Tukur Mani, a brilliant orator, was already aware of the “sit-tight syndrome” troubling ATPN. After listening, he simply advised us to return to Lagos and form a new association free from individual ownership. That advice birthed FTAN.
It was in Mani’s office that I first met Kabiru Malan, a Kaduna-based travel agent. Though close to Mani, he played no role in FTAN’s formation phase—a story for another day.
Fast-forward to today: the same disease that destroyed the old ATPN has resurfaced—an ambitious Board of Trustees (BoT) trying to run the association from the shadows.
ATPN has over 17 registered trustees, including some who are late. In 2020, six more were added—an effort that required significant financial sacrifice from each of us, with Nkereweum Onung bearing a large burden of the costs.
After the elections, conspiracies set in. A bitter feud erupted between the president and the South-West vice president. Despite repeated efforts by myself and Gani Tarzan Balogun to reconcile them—in Abeokuta and Lagos—the gulf persisted. The vice president believed the president sponsored a candidate against him during the elections, and the wound never healed.
Meanwhile, attempts by the president to rebuild the association were consistently frustrated by a new alliance between the vice president, the BoT chairman and his loyalists. The president was accused of everything—from failing to open a bank account to non-performance.
The transition from the previous executive council did not help matters. The former president brought in his friends, allocated positions, and when ousted, left with all institutional documents.
As meetings progressed, some trustees began entertaining the idea of staying in office indefinitely. This silent ambition later became a storm, and only a few of us opposed this undemocratic drift.
The feud between the president and the South-West vice president became the perfect excuse to set up an “investigation panel”—a tool to weaken the president even though he had neither mismanaged funds nor been supported structurally to manage his team.
Sleeper cells exist within the board—some active, others snoring—only waking when their vote is needed.
The constitution so frequently brandished by power seekers was drafted by one person, without input from members or the board. Its true purpose is simple: to empower a few trustees to own ATPN permanently.
My opposition was firm, so much so that I became the unofficial voice of dissent at every BoT meeting. Then, on October 1st, the board secretary illegally removed me from the board’s communication platform—a violation of law and procedure. I refused to contest it; their action merely exposed their ignorance.
Even FTAN’s intervention panel, which approached me after engaging only the president, proved disappointing. Their report falsely claimed I could not attend the Abuja session because I was sick—a lie from the pit of darkness. None of what I told them made it into the final document.
Those wishing sickness or death upon me will reap the fruit of their imagination. I stand on the promise of divine protection.
I will serve out my term and leave the board. Let those who believe ATPN belongs to them wait for divine judgement.
I have also chosen to distance myself from internal FTAN politics, lest the caterpillars and conspirators consume my peace.
ATPN today remains heavily factionalised—board included.
Can peace return? Yes—if men remember that they are mortals, not gods.
I wish everyone well.