Ndi Igbo of Nigeria: a race under threat (?)

I arrived Providence, the capital of the American state of Rhode Island on the 1^st day of September 2009 after an eventful and comfortable 6 hours bus ride on the greyhound public bus from New York City. I had arrived JFK Airport the previous day from London, and opted to unwind in the city for the night. My trip to Providence by road was a self choice since I had wanted to take a good view of the American hinterlands. Hinterland indeed, as I decided to appreciate how a megacity like New York gradually peters out through a transition of small towns such as Stamford, Norwalk, Bridgeport, New Haven, New London and then Providence. Upon arrival in Providence, activities started in earnest as the Watson International Institute Scholars of the Environment 2009 programme begins. Series of activities were lined up to welcome the scholars and fit them into Brown, the university that has the status of Ivy league, and Providence, a city that represents the longest of America’s coastlines but with a population of 200,000 people. One of such activities was an outdoor reception dinner held on Monday, 7^th September 2009 and hosted by the program manager Laura Sadovnikoff at her residence in Pawtuxet. A good number of personalities attended the dinner including Professor Nancy Jacobs (who is the Director of the Watson Institute) and her husband and many others. As the dinner progressed a tall American woman approached me from a corner and spoke Igbo language to me. She had uttered ‘’Nwannem, ke du’’. I did not really believe my ears. She embraced me and said ‘’I bu onye Igbo!’’. It then dawned on me that it was not a drama, but that I have met a woman who identified me as a true Igbo and was out to engage me. That was how the rest of the evening ended for me as we ended up talking and discussing the Igbos in Nigeria; my ethnic group. The woman’s name is Henrietta, and her husband who accompanied her to the party is Donald. Both of them are professors at the University of California at Los Angeles (UCLA). Both Donald and Henrietta are no longer getting younger but rather aging gracefully and were indeed a happy and accomplished pair to meet. Both couples had met in Nigeria where they both fell in love and eventually got married. Henrietta, then Miss Briggs had arrived Nigeria a few years after the Nigerian Independence in 1960 to work as an American Peace Corp Volunteer. She was posted to Azumini village, now in Ndoki in Ukwa East local government area of Abia State. In unison, both Donald and Henrietta reminiscenced on the good old days that was Igbo land. According to Henrietta she was commonly called ‘’Mboghokwonta’’ by the natives. She so much integrated with the natives that she wore and appeared on the same wrappers and dancing uniforms with them. She swam the Azumini River with the natives. She ate ‘’Akpu’’, ‘’ Ugba’’, ‘’Abacha/Jiakpu agworo agwo’’ and other local foods with them.She told me how natives fetched domestic waters for her, and ran supporting errands for her and how safe and free the Igbo society then was. Then, she freely goes unaccompanied to Aba every week to make purchases as well as other trips to Port Harcourt and Opobo. Donald on his part, recalled how he had travelled one day and got caught up by night on the way. All he did was to simply walk into the nearest compound and announce to them that he was caught up by the night and needed shelter. The owner of the compound not only provided him with shelter, but also fed him heavily with a dinner of ‘’akpu’’ and ‘’ofe ugha’’ which was washed down with palm wine. At a point, he had asked about the great market city, Onitsha; the sea port town of Port Harcourt, and the city with the intimidating Cathedral, Owerri. He also recalled how he was greatly feasted by Igbos in Opobo town during one of his visits to the town those days and how he made friends all over Port Harcourt, Owerri, Aba, Onitsha and even Enugu.He inquired if people from all over West Africa still come to Onitsha and Aba markets as they used to those days. Donald and Henrietta in remembering all the uncommon great features of the Igbo society of days past, did not waste time to remind anybody that bothered to come close to our discussion at the night’s dinner that the Igbos are the greatest Africans; that they have no rivals in Nigeria and that they are indeed a great race with an indomitable spirit of enterprise and hospitality. However, they bemoaned the effects of the destructive civil war, having left the country at its very outset. Though both couples had visited Nigeria a little after the war, they were desirous to know how the Igbos are faring in Nigeria and how the destructions wrought by the civil war was remedied. They both still have a wish, the wish of visiting Igbo land soon again and visiting Azumini and its most hospitable people. Three things touched me most from the encounter with these Americans. First was the question by Donald if Ojukwu is still alive, and if there are other great role models in Igbo land that enjoys his kind of followership. That question made it dawn on me straight away that the Igbos no longer have a role model. I told him that most Igbo elites are today after their stomach, and not for common interest. When, he heard what I just muttered, he queried, ‘’You mean that even Igbo leaders steal money needed to develop Igbo land?; I was stuck of words, Donald at this point, became speechless, shaking his head and looking into my eyes at the same time, both eyes getting wet with tears, he removed his gaze and turned it over the burning fire near us. It was obvious that he was disappointed. Second, Donald and Henrietta revealed to me that their first daughter who was born soon after they returned to the USA from Nigeria was given an Igbo name –Ngozi. Our host Laura corroborated this to me a little later. Ngozi is now happily married and living with her husband. She still retains the name and everybody knows that the name has origin from south-eastern Nigeria. Third, Henrietta wrote me an e-mail immediately after the dinner. It read thus: ‘’Nwannem, I should really call you Nwa-m, since you could be my son– it was such a pleasure to meet you last night. Let’s stay in touch!  I made a little movie of the digitized slides from Azumini and I’ll send it with the next transmission. Let me know if it comes through. If your computer can’t receive the movie, I’ll just send the photo gallery instead. But you would enjoy the movie because it’s set to the tune, Joromi–which was very popular in the mid-1960s. Henrietta (aka Mboghokwonta–my name in Azumini)’’ When I opened the attachment, I watched the movie and looked at the over 100 fotos she attached. I could not hold my emotions. I cried for the Igbo nation. We have really lost a lot. I am afraid Igbos may be going into extinction. Yes, extinction worse than those experienced by dinosaurs or even those planned by the Nigerian state while executing the civil war. The evidence are just there with all these massive looting of public funds in all Igbo states, kidnapping and general insecurity amidst others. It is just telling.

PETER OBI; a pinhole peep

The journey to Agulu Anambra State began with a distress call from Mrs. Anulika Obienyem. I have known her from my hay days in Abuja and she has been a faithful friend. The message from the call was simple, “my father-in-law is dead. We had to bury him immediately according to his wish.” I was dumbfounded that the Igbo man could bury his deceased relation in record time. To confirm this sad story, I got a call from Valentine Obienyem, Special Assistant on Media and Publicity to Governor Peter Obi of Anambra State.

I have known Val. for over ten years, as far back as in our undergraduate days in Lagos State University and a fraternal friendship is still blossoming over since. I cancelled all my engagements to make sure that I attend the final burial rites of his father, Ozo Bonaventure Obienyem, who died at the age of 78. Apart from Val. being a reliable friend in the university, my first child was actually conceived in his house at Lugbe, Abuja.

Having put my relationship with Val in perspective; let me regale you with the journey to his father’s burial that ended up in an unforgettable encounter with the democratic phenomenon of Nigeria’s democratic experience, Mr. Peter Obi.

I took off from Abuja my economic exiled base to Biafra (South East Nigeria) and anchored in Owerri. The conversation in the bus was centred on the marginalization of the Igbos in Nigeria, despite the”no victor no vanquished” declaration by the Gowon administration at the end of the 30- month civil war.

As an afterthought, the passengers zoomed in on the non-performance of the South-East governors. While these arguments raged, all the passengers were in agreement that the Amanbra State governor is in a class of his own and a trail blazer in the enforcement of rule of law, firm belief in the due process and integrated approach to development. Why won’t he, I belched, after all it was the judiciary that restored his stolen mandate. It should be remembered that Governor Peter Obi ran through the judiciary gauntlet to reclaim his mandate stolen by Dr. Chris Ngige of the PDP, after the former had spent 3 years in office.

Ever since Peter Obi regained his mandate, he has stuck to the rule of law and due process, with little regards to whose ox is gored. Despite these pass mark given to Peter Obi in the bus, I still remained a doubting Thomas. My pinch-of-salt faith in the accolades showered on Peter Obi, sprang from the numerous newspaper advertorials by governors, brandishing what they have done during the past one year. Yet in their states, there is nothing to show for it. The dividends of democracy and good governance to their people are on the pages of newspapers and the crafty imagination of their image makers.

As though one passenger read my mind, I was reminded that the ongoing stalemate with the PDP dominated state House of Assembly is nothing but the governor’s stubbornness that the interest of the Anambra people must prevail against party and selfish interest. With great skepticism about reports from bush telegrams and Nigerian arm chair investigative journalists, over the super performances of the governors, I proceeded to Agulu via Ideato North.

To my greatest shock, the road from Urualla is as smooth as the Abuja-Keffi road. When I passed my Alma Mater, St. John Chrysostom Seminary Osina, pride swelled up to a bursting point in me. It was in this school, under steady hands of Rev. Sam Ilo that my faith was shaped. It was also there that my first baptism of rebellion was born. I protested the forceful banning of vernacular by Mazi C.C. our form master in Class 2B. I still have fresh memories of my brief stay in that school.

Akokwa to Ekwulobia was a pleasure to travel on and once in a long time, I was proud of the South East roads. Another interesting observation was the absence of bill boards advertising the governor. A trip round other South-East states, in fact the whole federation, you will have the faces of their governors welcoming you to squalor, unemployment and insecurity.

But that was not the case in Anambra. As we cruised across the border of Imo and Anambra, no nuisance bill board was welcoming me to Anambra. I started feeling there is something different about the state. But my pride knew no bound when I got to Obe Village, Agulu, the venue and Val’s village. There was electricity, which I understand has been there since the seventies. One could feel the fresh air exhuming from the green trees and virgin vegetation.

I was minding my beer, discussing Barack Obama’s half chance in November, reinterpretation of Andy Uba’s empty mandate and the failure of the opposition parties to challenge the foisting of Rotimi Amaechi at the Rivers State Election Tribunal with Barrister Emeka Ikedigwe that I paid no attention when the Governor’s presence was announced by the master of ceremony. But when Peter Obi appeared, with little fanfare, my pride did a somersault and at once I longed to be a governor in the shoes of Peter Obi.

Peter Obi came with the most skeletal security out-fit I have seen in modern times. Coming from Abuja, where a common minister intimidates road users, it was a cultural shock for me to see a governor at close range and his security details were not over -zealous, not wearing Abacha-like goggles and scaring electorates. I cannot remember the last time I was this at ease in the presence of security men.

To crown it all, Peter Obi ate in public glare. No special venue was arranged for him to eat. This simplicity touched me that I could not help but think, how better Nigeria will be if all governors will borrow a leaf from Peter Obi, make themselves accessible and not build wall of Jericho with Policemen around the governor. You may also wish to know that the convoy used by Peter Obi had about four cars; there was no dispatch rider or a lorry load of Mobile Policemen.

The siren was not at full blast. The governor mixed well with the people and was accessible to all who wanted to chip a word into his ever listening ears. With a wide smile and gentle voice the governor nodded to the praise singers and cheerfully made himself available to all and sundry. Read more

Ndigbo, a needful facelift

The last time I was intellectually stimulated by a South-East governor, was when ex-governor Chimaroke Nnamani started his lecture series. I followed the publications, thinking a philosopher king has emerged in the Nigeria political climate. But this flash in the pan, sizzled out before I could understand the ideological populations and solutions he was offering to the hydra-headed problems confronting the Igboman and Nigeria. As they say, the rest is history, as ebe ano has a pyramid of EFCC allegations to clear, which obviously will not give time to articulate intelligently. A man, whose house is on fire, does not run after a fleeing rat, except he is a Tiv man!

At the twilight of Nnamani lecture series, came Kalu Leadership Series. It still runs fortnightly in sun newspaper, ‘written’ by ex-governor of Abia State, Orji Uzor Kalu. Kalu’s series is more of an infantile column than what the younger generation of budding leaders would have loved to read.

Leadership has been blackmailed as the of Nigerian’s problem, yet those who have held leadership positions have not deemed it fit to dust this bad image of leadership. I expect Orji’s series to focus on leadership, drawing from his personal experience as governor of Abia State for 8 years.

Read more

I will Die On Her Laps

By Che Oyinatumba 

Like an empty orange ball, sucked dry by the proboscises of greedy politicians she is cast to the periphery of the League of Nations. Those who milked the nectar of her youth do not see anything good in her wrinkled face and fallen breast. Those at the point of orgasm induced by unfettered access to her South-South, wanted to die for her, making empty promises for her to widen her “treasure base” and cut off other rivals with alternative to preserving her beauty and marketability in the world economic pageant; are now abusing her, seeing nothing good in serving her or her continues existence. I still love her no matter how battered; bruised and abused; though I have not taken suckle from her rich delta.

Nigeria at her infancy was the toast of town. Every nation wanted to hobnob with her to gain advantage in the cold war and have a dependable partner in Africa. But like a girl attaining puberty that often fall into the hands of wrong toasters, Nigeria has been raped by her lovers.

Before I come to the modern day buccaneers masquerading as the Nigerian ruling class, let me express my disappointment in the attitude of perceived “founding fathers” of Nigeria, who fed fat on Nigeria and in the twilight of their days on earth, are chanting anti-Nigerian songs. Pa Enahoro, took the centre stage in Nigerian psych when at the age of 27 in 1953, he called for Nigerian independence, despite the other regions unreadiness. When in 1967, a section of the federation insisting on Aburi accord, Pa Enahoro as a federal minister, actively worked against the dissolution of Nigeria and the carving out of sovereign state of Biafra. Infact he was instrumental to the travails of Prof. Wole Soyinka after the latter’s visit to the Biafran enclave. This earned Soyinka a dose of detention wherein he wrote The Man Died.

In an apparent swan song, Pa Enahoro is singing a discordance song of dissolution of Nigeria. Pa Enahoro’s rapid dwindle into abusing Nigeria, actively started with his failed demand for a Sovereign national conference and the failure of PRONACO to galvanise Nigerians against the Obasanjo formulated National Conference. Pure and simple, PRONACO was a conglomeration of ethnic bigots with no following from the ethnic groups they want to ostracise from Nigeria. Unfortunately, some rational Nigerians got entangled in this macabre dance and can’t extricate themselves. Indeed the man dies in all who keep silence in the presence of tyranny even if it is the tyranny of ethnicity.

Another group that has taken to guerrilla attacks on the corporate existence of Nigeria is the Ralph Uwazurike led Movement for Actualisation of Sovereign State of Biafra (MASSOB). Every May 25-27, Uwazurike like a voodoo priest tries to make the corpse of Biafra walk. Without much ado, let me refer Uwazurike to the thoughts of those who fought the war.  According to Col. J.O. Achuzia alias Hannibal in his book Requiem Biafra, “Biafra as a legal, political entity is dead”. On his own part, Alexander Madiebo in his book The Nigerian Revolution and the Biafran War, especial the Epilogue-Why we lost the war, left a vital message for MASSOB when he quoted Chairman Mao.  

“General” Ojukwu the protagonist of the Biafran war, has been reduced to the rubbles of a pensionable colonel in the Nigerian Army. He did not refuse his pension and had earlier contested a presidential election to rule a post Biafra Nigeria. Uwazurike should stop this infantile nightmare and grow up to the realities on ground if he wants to lead a liberation struggle.

A census of properties in Lagos, Abuja, Kano, will show you that out of every 8 houses, an Igbo man owns 3.2. The Ibos chanting dissolution of Nigeria should visit ASPANDA and ask himself why such edifice was not built in any South-East state. A visit to the remotest part of Nigeria with no light no road, people living in mud houses, will show a provision/chemist store own by an Ibo man. The unresolved abandoned property cases in backyard Rivers State, is an indicator that no capitalist Ibo man, will commit himself to a process that will affect his balance sheet. Revolution/breaking up of any federation is not a tea party. Ndi Igbo in Diaspora will not endlessly contribute money to a bottomless pit called MASSOB, funds which Uwazurike can’t account for. Ndi Igbo, should bury the ghost of Biafra, reconcile with ndi mbamiri (tempers are still hot over the invasion of Mid-west by Banjo and the refusal by Biafra to create Rivers state) and fight for Aso Rock.

Fighting for Aso Rock, brings me back to the modern day Pirates in power, who after plundering Nigeria, does not see any need to serve her again or leave the ship of state afloat. Malam Nasir el-Rufai, became synonymous with disaster. Many families apart from the financial lose, will forever bear the scars of el-Rufai. Bread winners died in the quest to relocate due to the “righteous” zeal with which el-Ruffai was restoring the Abuja master plan. At the crescendo of this his mission, he was reported as saying that “He is not afraid to die, after all he has out lived the life expectancy in his clan” This same man, insulted the hallow chambers and the man of wisdom in Nigeria, when he called our senators fools. In the twilight of the frustrated third term, el-Rufai was on NTA, acting as a complainant and judge over Atiku Abubakar. He even advised the Vice President to resign having been indicted by a panel to which he (el-Rufai) was a member. All this he claimed he was doing in the interest of Nigeria.

Under cross fire at the House Committee on FCT investigating the allocation of plots, demolition of illegal structures, sale of federal government houses, el-Rufai capitulated from his high horse of arrogance and abused Nigeria that made him. Who was el-Rufai on the national scene before Atiku dusted him and brought him to head the balkanisation of Nigeria’s infrastructure in the name of privatisation?

At the said hearing when asked if he will like to return as a public servant, el-Rufai replied “Mr. Chairman, God will never allow that to happen” Indeed the God of Nigeria must have been on a visit to South Africa to confer with Mandela on the way out of Nigeria’s leadership mess when the demon smuggled you to play the Judas against Atiku and got instead of 30 pieces of silver, a ministerial appointment, paying a female Corper a director’s salary and giving lands to your children.

Nigeria has not been fair to me. But the more my love for her is unreturned, the more it waxes stronger. The more I see miscreants in power, favoured by federal character than the content of their characters; my love grows, throwing me into a fit. The more I see the poor given a religious/ethnic coated subservient pills, hypnotising them to fight against each other to protect the loot of Nigeria by the politicians and religious rulers, the more my love for her grows passionate and becomes an obsession for we are at the threshold of the day when Nigerians will know that there is only two tribes in Nigeria i.e. the illegally amassed rich  tribe ( the gold toothed Hausa/Fulani hegemony,  the fake drug and sub-standard goods importers among Nna bros; the stock exchange/eye service looters from Oduduwa) and the institutionalised poor (the almajeres, the army of unemployed graduates roaming the streets, the Okada riders; the able bodied men begging at every traffic jam across the country; graduates selling rat killer poisons; the HIV infested hawkers of flesh and the civil servant the government has not deemed fit to pay the recommended minimum wage). This group of poor Nigerians are a ready tool for any combustion that will reshape Nigeria and reverse her dwindling beauty and attraction.  

The higher the thieves of our mandate build walls of Jericho to fence us the poor tribe out, the louder I will shout, for there is something inside so strong that makes me desire nothing more than to live for her love and if need be, die on her laps.

 

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