Category: Discourse

One of the beauties of democracy is the latitude it provides the citizens to freely express their views on any subject under the sun. Such opinions are however, expected to be factual, informative, rich and robust to raise the stake on political re-engineering. They should be thought-provoking; to ask the right questions and make valuable suggestions in order to proffer likely solutions to current social and economic challenges. That, combined with the active participation of the citizenry as the main stakeholder in governance would serve to deepen the democratic culture.

But when opinions are taken to ridiculous heights of over fixation on pull-them-down syndrome, especially those whose patriotic efforts have brought to bear the fruits of such democracy, it calls for urgent concern. In the light of this, therefore, one cannot but question both the motive and morale of one Mr.Femi Aribsala who has chosen to cast aspersions and castigate every patriotic move Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu has made to salvage the hole-riddled ship of state from sinking under. The other day, it was Aribisala and his tactless tirade over: What does Bola Tinubu really want? Now, it is another self-serving vituperation over the unduly orchestrated Muslim-Muslim presidential ticket for the All Progressives Congress, APC. So sad, Aribisala and those behind beating the drums for him, think as if the people’s wishes and electoral value count for nothing.

Let us consider this, from Aribisala’s jaundiced viewpoint. “The prospect of a ticket with Tinubu as vice-president is already ensuring that the APC is badly in need of aspirin. An APC vice-president that is not Tinubu poses grave political danger to Tinubu.  It means Tinubu has been sowing for somebody else to reap. If that person happens to be Yoruba, he or she could quickly become a contender for Tinubu’s much-vaunted position as the Asiwaju of  South-West politics in Nigeria.”

If for anything else, by this statement alone Aribisala has exposed his vain and vacuous understanding of the political ideology, motivation and persona of the famed tactician and political strategist called Ahmed Tinubu. For the records, he was the last progressive politician standing, when the rigging machinery of the PDP bulldozed its way through the South-West geo-political zone, claiming in its dusty wake the states of Ogun, Oyo, Osun, Ondo and Ekiti during the heady days of the Chief Olusegun Obasanjo-led PDP.

Back then, when Tinubu  and his allies met at the residence of late Pa Adesanya  in Apapa, Lagos to review the rather  crude onslaught of the anti-democratic PDP, only Tinubu stood his ground; maintaining that it was not in the best interest of the Alliance for Democracy, AD or Nigeria not to contest the outcome of the fraudulent elections. The PDP-led government had ensured that the governorship elections were the first to be conducted, with the obnoxious aim to use it ostensibly to influence the outcome of subsequent elections. And of course, to whip the so called ‘dissidents’ into line. Asiwaju it was who saw through the smokescreen and stood his ground, against the formidable reactionary forces.

With his unwavering moral support, candidates on the platform of AD who contested for the posts in the Senate, House of Representatives and various state House of Assembly in the South-West were able to clinch the desired victory   and returned to the hallowed chambers to discharge their duty to their people. Furthermore, Tinubu served again as the catalyst who galvanised the progressives to reclaim the lost states, such as Osun and Ekiti, even including Ondo that was saved from the clutches of the PDP and went to the Labour Party.

If Tinubu was a selfish politician, as Aribisala imputes in his highly opinionated essay he would not have embarked on that messianic mission. All he wanted, and still pursues with unrelenting vigour is to ensure that indeed, the people’s votes count. That their wishes hold sway.  That their choices are validated on the veritable platform of credible elections, as against foisting the wishes of a few greedy and self-serving politicians on the majority.

It therefore, amounts to a grave insult to insinuate that Tinubu does not want another person to reap from where he has sowed. He knows he is not God, who has the power to determine who benefits from what. That is pettiness from a warped mindset. Perhaps, if Aribisala has an inkling of those whose lives God has used theAsiwaju to touch outside of politics he would not descend to the low level of thinking that all there is to life is money; or sowing and reaping. Until Nigerians stop thinking of politics as an avenue for self-aggrandizement instead of selfless service to the state we would not make meaningful progress.

And that also underscores the penchant of progressive parties for identifying the best of candidates not just from the South-West geo-political zone but across the Nigerian political spectrum for public service. Unknown to the likes of Aribisala, that clearly explains why Tinubu  threw his weight behind the candidature of Aminu Tambuwal for the exalted position of Speaker, House of Representatives as against Mulikat Akande. Tinubu saw in Tambuwal what was missing in Akande, who would be a quisling in the hand of PDP. That they share the same geo-political heritage was immaterial and mere base sentiment. The Yoruba race, well-known for political sophistication would always project their best of brains to the limelight.

Now, Aribisala should ask himself in good conscience what he would have done if he was in Asiwaju’s shoes and there is an open threat to democratic norms and values. Especially with Dimeji Bankole, then the Speaker House of Assembly  promising Ekiti people that the military would be used to  win election in that state during the controversial re-run governorship election in 2009.Would he have stood aloof, arms folded to allow the monster of impunity to plunder the land? The answer is his’ .

And that brings us to Aribisala’s gross misunderstanding and misrepresentation of the well-acclaimed victory of John Oyegun as against his man, Tom Ikimi. Said he: “ Tinubu needed to ensure that the APC chairman is not his new arch-enemy, Tom Ikimi, a known Atiku Abubakar man.  So he shopped for a more malleable alternative.  He finally settled on John Odigie-Oyegun, former governor of Edo State. But when the permutations were done, Odigie-Oyegun could not be assured of victory in a democratic poll.  The answer, therefore, in typical Asiwaju fashion, was to truncate democracy in APC.”  Reading through this cheap assessment of a credible election that had even the PDP congratulating the APC makes mockery of Aribisala’s perception of political issues.

Firstly, he has insulted the collective intelligence of other APC stalwarts by claiming they are dummies who could not choose between two candidates with clearly well-defined antecedents and opposite character traits. Secondly, and this is instructive, he has inadvertently given Tinubu the power of a demi-god before who others could never say “no”. That scenario cannot play itself out under a democratic dispensation, more so that of Nigeri’s vibrant polity in the 21st Century.

May we remind Aribisala that Tom Ikimi was never a democrat and even as an adept political chameleon cannot metamorphose into one overnight. What role did he play during the dark days of the NADECO struggle to emancipate the Nigerian nation and its good people from the iron grip of military despotism? That of an ignoble anti-democrat who chose to turn his back on the people and became deaf to their cries of anguish by dining with Abacha.

He, Ikimi it was again who practiced bolekaja diplomacy in the face of a clear injustice that triggered global outrage, when he openly supported Abacha’s death sentence on Ken Saro-Wiwa, acclaimed  human rights activist and internationally recognized environmentalist, and the Ogoni-Four. No democrat would have justified and defend that type of brutal, barbaric and  bestial murder of his people’s conscience and voice. For Ikimi to have assumed that Nigerians have so short a memory and would embrace his foray into party politics without questions betrays his understanding of the word, ‘democracy. And even Aribisala has the moral burden of acting as a megaphone to such a person. ‘Show me your friend and I would tell you who you are.’

Perhaps, Kami’s people understand him far more than Aribisala does. For that reason they elected Chief Odigie-Oyegun, as against Ikimi’s candidate, Lucky Igbinedion, as their first-ever democratically chosen state governor. And why not? Oyegun has over the years remained a consistent and committed democrat unlike Ikimi who, more like an unprincipled politician pitches his tent wherever he feels the grass is greener and romances any government in power? Such a person does not have any moral authority to put himself forward for any elective post in the first instance. Leadership goes far beyond that.

It is mix milieu of one who has vision in quantum; one with the capacity to feel the pulse and the pains of his people; one who has the courage to do right and the boldness to  say ‘no’ to evil in all its shade; one with the compassion to right the wrongs bedeviling his people. Fortunately, Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu is blessed with all these character traits. And as amply demonstrated during his struggles for democracy, his eight years qualitative leadership as the Lagos State governor, against all odds he is eminently qualified to lead this nation to greater heights. That he is from the South-West or a Muslim should not matter, should it? Of course not.

What the citizens need at this critical moment of our troubled history are men and women who would frontally tackle the monsters of corruption, mass youth unemployment, insecurity, and the  insidious culture of impunity to deliver the dividends of democracy at their doorstep.

As George Kalu rightly admonished:” Let Aribisala stop wasting his precious wisdom in producing such acidic and derogatory articles. We already know why he hates Tinubu with such passion and why he derides APC”.

What should matter most to Nigerians now is quality leadership that understands their pains; that has a sense of direction and would salvage them from the clouds of cluelessness and storms of selfishness to the habour of our collective hope, for a better Nigeria.

– Dare is the Special Adviser on Media to Bola Tinubu

Conclusion of text of a paper delivered by Mrs.Taiwo Makinde (Ph.D), Associate Professor of Public Administration, Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile Ife at a lecture series organised by the Awolowo Centre for Philosophy, Integrity and Good Governance on the need for the preservation of the Yoruba Language at St. Charles Grammar School, Osogbo.

•Continued from Friday

Consequences of the failure of our children to speak and write Yoruba

The greatest consequence is that of loss of identity. You are your language and your language is you. You think and act your language. However, when a child is not familiar with his/her language, his thinking will wobble because he will neither be here nor there. He/she will not fit into his society very well and the tendency is that such a child will misbehave. He will be a stranger in his own land. He/she will not be able to interact with those in the family who cannot speak English. These include some baba agba and iya agba. Where he is expected to prostrate to an elder person, he will stretch his hand for a hand shake. Such a child will bring shame to his parents because he can be referred to as “abiiko”, that is “an untrained child”. It also affects the way the children dress as they will consider the foreign outfits superior to their own. The music, as we have it today, has been influenced by foreign culture and this is why music of nowadays has no meaning, unlike the music of the Yoruba artistes such as Ebenezer Obey, Sunny Ade, Hubert Ogunde, Victor Olaiya, I. K. Dairo and others which remain evergreen in our memories because the wordings are meaningful.

Failure of our children to speak and write Yoruba means that we cannot warn them of an impending danger in the presence of non-natives without letting others know what we are talking about as parents, because you will have to communicate such instruction to him/her in the English language which will be a general knowledge to all present. Such a child may not even understand “sign language” which is sometimes used by our parents to speak to us. In line with the opinion of Akinwumi Isola, such a child may not be referred to as an “Omoluabi”. According to him, We the Yoruba are very lucky because we have what to sell to the world. We have what is called Omoluabi to sell to the world and if it is imbibed, the world will be at peace because “omoluabi” is all about being cultured to do good. I don’t know how to translate Omoluabi to English. We have accepted standard of right and wrong . Among the Yoruba, we know what is right and wrong. For example, If somebod is fighting with your child and you discovered that your child did what was wrong to the other persofighting him or her, you will not support your child, you will punish him. That is Omoluabi Act.

What is the way forward? Kini ona a ba yo?

With all said and done, the important question should be asked: What is the way forward? Kini ona a ba yo? We cannot allow Yoruba language to die. This is to ensure that Yoruba people do not lose their identity. We must start with the parents who consider English language as being superior to Yoruba, thereby enforcing its usage at home, unfortunately, as mother tongue. It is unnatural and such a pity! This idea must stop. This is a lesson we can learn from Professor Akinwumi Isola who, in an interview conducted on him, stated thus:

I stopped my grandchildren who come to visit me from Lagos from calling me “grandpa. I told them to address me as “baba agba”. I told them that anybody in the four corners of my house must speak Yoruba because English language is banned in my house.

As parents and grandparents, we can enforce the use of Yoruba language in our respective homes in order to prevent the incidence of glottophagia. In this connection, I may add, quite humorously that, in most cases nowadays, we hear of children calling their mama or iya “mumsy” and baba “popsy”! But I have been told that “popsy” is the name of a dog. It may just be the case that “mumsy” is the name of a cat!

Scholars should be encouraged to work in the areas of lapses identified under challenges to ensure that Yoruba is brought to a level that it can be used in the teaching of various academic disciplines. Yoruba language, as an academic discipline, must be made compulsory in all primary and secondary institutions, at least, in the State of Osun. This will enable more students to offer the subject for JAMB, thereby providing opportunities for more students to study it at the university level. Teachers of Yoruba language should be encouraged to improve themselves through the processes of training and re-training. Most importantly, there is need for re-orientation of the people – young and old – to sensitise them to appreciate the beauty of the Yoruba language as a language we should be proud of.

Conclusion

We have discussed the history of Yoruba language where we discovered that the language is spoken even outside the shores of Nigeria. Our discusssion also shows that Yoruba is rich in culture, values, and morals. The challenges confronting the language are identified to include what we call self colonization of both parents and children, while the language consists of moral, academic and social benefits to both the young and the old. We also looked at the consequences of relegating Yoruba to the background which include loss of identity, nationally and internationally. At the end of it all, Yoruba appears to be qualified to be referred to nowadays as an endangered specie. But, we cannot fold our arms and allow this rich language to go into extinction. Yoruba ko gbodo ku. This is to ensure that we do not lose our identity – we and the generations coming after us.

At this juncture, I would like to commend the Governor of the State of Osun, Ogbeni Rauf Adesoji Aregbesola who is contributing his own quota to the upliftment of Yoruba and its culture. In fact, I am proud to be from the State of Omoluabi where we have accepted standard of right and wrong. This is why I would want to end this talk with the wordings contained in the State of Osun Anthem which I consider to be very stimulating and worthy to be recited in our different homes in Ipinle Omoluabi. Shall we all then rise and sing this anthem while at the same time we internalize every line of the four stanzas.

 

Ise wa fun ‘le wa

Fun orile ibi wa K’agbe ga, k’agbe ga

K’agbe ga f’aye ri.

Igbagbo wa nipe

Ba se b’eru la b’omo

Ka sise, ka sise

Ka sise, ka jola

 

Isokan at’ominira

Ni keje k’ama lepa

‘Tesiwaju, opo ire

A‘tohun to dara

 

Omo Odu’a dide

Bosi ipo eto re

Iwo ni, Imole

Gbogbo adulawo

Thank you for listening.

•Victims of Asaba Civil War genocide

Augustine Egbuiwe, the great mind who had refused the Ovie’s security plans in Ughelli was among the top civil servants, businessmen, professionals, that fell at Ogbeosowa. A pioneer without compare, a civil servant of the highest dedication, was shot without qualms.

D.N. Mordi – “His Excellency”

His car plate number read M. A. 1. His postal address was P. O. Box 1, Kings Street, Asaba. Standing opposite that address was a school established by the Anglican Mission in 1882. He was No. 1 and the community called him “His Excellency… Money Road. “By his comportment, orientation and mode of dressing, D. N. believed in the number One.

President of the Pensioneer’s Union in 1967, he retired as the first African Chief Clerk of a trading unit of the United African Company in Sapele. He went on to become one of the greatest community leaders of his era. The sobriquet, “His Excellency” was won through his many exemplary deeds and many indeed were these. For instance, at some point he had been so concerned, upon learning, that most of the women who travelled into town from the neighbouring towns of Ibusa, Issele-Ukwu, Illah, Ogwashi-Ukwu and Issele Asagba were usually very thirsty, after covering distances on foot to the market. These women, in a pattern so typical of the continent, would arrive carrying all sorts of wares in their baskets and would need a place to refresh after selling off their goods in the morning hours. Mr. Mordi promptly commissioned very bid pots of water, and bought labourers to fill up the pots with clean stream water. A grin of satisfaction was his reward while watching these amazing, strong-willed women stop by at No. 1, Kings Street, quenching their thirst in turns.

There was also another story of his generosity. In those days there had been no pipe-borne water. Most people went straight to a freshwater spring by the River Niger for refreshment. Subsequently, more reports reached him that during the rainy seasons the river’s stony beaches got slippery and dangerous for youngsters who want there to draw water for their parents. In fact, every year an ample number of people would drown in accidents resulting from those slippery falls. ‘His Excellency’ took it upon himself to correct that anomaly and within few days constructed and laid into the river’s approach stony steps that made it possible for the little hilly beaches to hold for stable descent either to the main river – or to the Ngene stream running out from inside the rocks as spring water. The Ngene stream is one of the several rivulets that fed the 1000-mile river that stretched from the Futa Jalon Mountains in Sierra Leone all the way to the creeks and swamps that emptied into the Atlantic ocean and whose oil deposits would be the foundation of Nigeria’s vast wealth of the late 20 century.

Fanatically anti-pagan, D.N. Mordi avoided the native fetish or its glorified chieftaincy titles. In order not to be out-staged or ridiculed by the titled men, he decided to dramatize his own values and aspirations. For the exceptional Eze title, he bought himself an American Big One… a Chevrolet Limousine. No Eze in Nigeria had that type of car. On the other hand, the Ezes brandished white pieces of rope around their ankles as symbols of authority. In forsaking the very prestigious Alor title, Mordi bought himself a Vauxhall saloon car. For the Ogbu title, specially reserved for the foolhardy, “His Excellency” showcased a Jeep! All the three cars were custom-made with custom-designed numbers MA 1-the same car number he later shared with the Premier. Nevertheless, when the great man died his people knew his was not an Ogba Mkpisi.. a commoner’s death. They quickly rehabilitated him according to Asaba customs, with an Alor title; thus he was buried excellently, just the way he lived his life.

Ironically, the day he fell at Ogbeosowa, Captain Olu of the Nigerian army had provided him with identification passes to ensure his safety.

According to Mrs. Halim, it was on account of those promises of safety that the Idigbe family mistakenly re-surfaced from their hiding places. His Excellency was very close to Chief Alexander Idigbe, the father of the Chief Justice. He sent word to him and Idigbe’s brother, Okolie to join them at the Nnebisi Road address. “We were busy preparing meals for the Federal soldiers”, said Mrs.Halim, “when those “Gwodogwodo” people rushed in and ordered everybody to Ogbeosowa. Alexander Idigbe mentioned Captain Olu’s pass. The soldiers were evil and replied that they were not interested.”

Meanwhile, the younger brother to D.N. Mordi came down from his ceiling hide-out at No.1 King’s Street, Gabriel could no longer tolerate the molestation his brother was receiving from the soldiers. He decided to be taken along with him to Ogbeosowa. At the square, D.N. Mordi, his brother Gabriel Mordi, and his relatives Alexander and Okolie Idigbe, were separated from their wives and children. George, a seminarian, refused and fought back the soldiers, who wanted him to let go of his father.

When the machine guns exploded, D. N. Mordi, sensing the inevitable beckoned on his people to escape. In the end about four Mordis, three Gwams and two Idigbes, and many other relations from the same family and two Idigbes, and many other relations from the same family tree, lay still. It was a disaster for some families who lost all their male members in a single day, implying the permanent closure of lineages that might have been in existence since the dawn of time.

‘Goodbye, Your Excellency’.

Christian and Eddy Chukwurah – A Television Nightmare

It was prime time and Brigadier Adeyinka Adebayo, Military Governor of Western State was on the Ibadan Television Newsline. The Newscaster on that October 1967 edition mentioned Asaba and the Governor turned to face his audience. He said that he was returning to Ibadan after a tour of the war zones. He was sorry that the beautiful town of Asaba, noted for its pretty people, was burning, and civilians were being killed in large numbers.

As Brigadier Adebayo was cued out, a chilling montage of burning houses and sprawling victims of the massacres filed out across the screen “as soon as I saw the first pictures, I knew it was my brother Chris lying face down. On his top in a bloody mess was my younger brother, Eddy.” That was how in one day, October 6, 1967, Olisa Chukwurah, Nigeria’s renowned constitutional lawyer, lost his father and two brothers. For him the everlasting nightmare of losing all these men, in one fleeting moment of time came through the immediacy of television news. These two brothers were among the first victims of the Asaba massacre. On October 5, due to the heavy firing in town, the family had moved to Umuezei quarters. The following day, the 6th, they were returning to their homes when they were arrested by the federal troops. Before the Post Office junction, the soldiers subjected them to a series of humiliating taunts, and at a point the eldest of the Chukwurahs a retired Sergeant of the West African Frontier Force (WAFF), questioned the discipline of the soldiers. He was no longer ready to take any more humiliation. Before his family he was his directly on the head. Among them was his younger brother Eddy, an English-trained engineer who had a contract for the reconstruction of the Isheagu-Asaba road. It was while he was in Onitsha purchasing materials for the contract that he was cut off from his Isheagu station. The soldiers hit the handsome man by the side of the face.

Despite the close range of the shooting, he was still breathing for a long time and needed help. His sister, a matron with the Anglican Girls Grammar School, Asaba saw her two brothers on the ground, and came running.

“Chris was dead by the time I arrived on the scene at the corner of the Post Office road. Eddy’s face gushed out blood each time he managed to breathe”, lamented the matron.

“Mama, look at Uncle”, was her little son’s cry. Later, her other brother Olisa was, without warning confronted with the same grotesque pictures in far-away Ibadan, put out by insensitive television editors. Sooner or later, “those who committed those havoc will pay for it”, he consoled himself.

When the tragic news of the death of the two brothers reached their father, the old man lost his world. He needed explanation on why his sons were shot in cold blood. The soldiers out for more young blood ignored him. Papa Chukwurah, a Chief Clerk in the Nigeria colonial government since the 1930s’ was not the type to be ignored. He burst out on the soldiers. The soldiers were surprised at the old man’s audacity. Like his sons they crucified him.

Those were the types of pictures seldom used by television in any civilized society, or one aspiring to attain such description. Television is a cool medium. On account of its transcendental powers, care is often taken in editing volatile commodities for the consumption of a restive audience trapped in the violence and exigency of war.

Chuks Mommy Momah – For the Love of a Woman

The civil war in Asaba presented to the federal soldiers a ‘romantic opportunity’ to get to and in many cases, kidnap, the famous beauties of the River Niger. That many top army commanders came eventually to share the same pillows with Western Ibo women is not unconnected with the 1967 Asaba operations. One of those house operations ended on very sad unforgettable note in the case of Chuks Momah, a debonair salesman from the “Coal City” Enugu, who had returned to Umuezei quarters, and was well known to soldiers in both armies.

He was popular on both sides. Indeed, a Federal platoon had arrived at his one-storey building and steered clear. An officer however, apprehended his wife. Chuks Momah regarded his wife as a sacred cow. The beautiful woman should never be contaminated. For the love of his wife and with his bare hands, Chuks Momah fought off the invaders. A few bursts of the sub-machine gun, mortally felled him.

For the love of a woman, a great soul was cut down in his prime.

Babatunde Onukwu – A Family waste

While Asaba and Isheagu may claim the blood prize for the highest number of the victims of the Nigerian civil war, Ogwashi-ukwu stands out for producing the Onukwu family, the family that lost the highest number of filial casualties in one day-Iweadizia, Ndufodu, Anisimbili, Ogbogu, Babatunde and Augustine were on that fateful day lined up against a firing squad. Their names bore symbolic meanings worth recalling:

Iweadizia – Anger is gone

Ndufofu – While there is life

Anisimbili – I shall live

Ogbogu – The one to end the strive

Babatunde – Our father has returned

The Onukwu family proved to be so unlucky because their family house stood adjacent to the main crossroad of the town. A Federal Army Commander on the previous day had been killed in an ambush. As it was their normal practice, Federal troops dealt with anybody they encountered after such an incident.

Christian Babatunde Onukwu, son of a Nigeria Police Inspector, had gone into hiding on the approach of the troops. He was already a medical student, having passed the entrance examinations to read medicine at Ibadan in 1967. This was the culmination of an academic excellence that Babatunde had maintained since leading his class at Government College, Ughelli. After graduating from High School, he taught Physics, Chemistry and Mathematics at Ozoro Teachers’ College, Ozoro.

When the soldiers came he had taken refuge in the bush behind his father’s house. Later he argued with his mother that as long as he was not a soldier there was no need to continue hiding. When eventually, he came out, he was ordered to join his brothers who had been lined up facing a firing squad. The squad was merciless. Ogbogu was the only survivor. A huge hole, created by an exiting bullet almost separated his hips from his buttocks. He was writhing in pains and later in the night announced to Babatunde’s mother. “The Onukwu children have been wiped out; please take care of my children”.

Captain Ebube – The Show me Pilot

Captain Ebube was in that batch of the Nigeria Air Force personnel trained in West Germany, shortly before the war. Unlike his in-law, Captain Ozieh, who took sides with the Federal Army, Captain Ebube escaped to Biafra after the fall of his hometown Ogwashi-Ukwu to the Federal troops.

When he learnt of the Federal atrocities he jumped into his cockpit and started displaying sorties in the air that soon attracted crowds in Port Harcourt. He would fly up in those helicopters and suddenly in a dare devil turn around start plummeting tails down to the ground. War-weary Port Harcourt residents would whistle in appreciation and wonder. One day after inviting his relations, including then Vice Chancellor of the University of Port Harcourt, Professor Okonjo, Captain Ebube almost crashed into the Kingsway Stores. But then just as he was about hitting the roof, the maverick pilot somersaulted and veered into Alice’s wonderland. After all, was he not the most respected chopper pilot in the force?

One day to the end of the war, Ebube with his good old pal and fellow Western Ibo pilot Captain Ogbolu, went to one of those few parties that were reserved for the selected few in the enclave. The party over and with visibility very low, the Captain was advised to pass the night.

But the young pilot must return to base. That night the chopper and its pilots did not go far. The helicopter collided with a palm tree and that was the last flight of this prince from Ogwashi-Ukwu. He was the airman’s ideal. Indeed a brother of his, Martin Ebube, a Washington DC – based graphics designer, would relate to the author in the United States that Captain Ebube used to land in their village in the heat of the war.

Chris Ogbolu – Once upon a time

The Nigerian civil war ended up being personal wars for so many Western Ibos. Carol Okonweze, the beautiful daughter of an Akwukwu civil servant had lost her celebrated husband, Colonel Gabriel Okonweze, in the counter-coup of July 1966.

For a long time she and her family refused consolation. It was the bubbling effervescence and the strong support of her younger brother, Captain Chris Ogbolu, fresh from an Air Force training course in West Germany that kept her going.

All through the family’s ordeal and refugee experiences in the Biafran enclave, Chris stood by his family. An old boy of St. Patrick’s College, Asaba, Chris returned from Germany in 1966, the youngest pilot of the Nigerian Air force. This group included Tony Ikhazaboh as well as the likes of Anumalor, Okpere, and so on. Ogbolu would fight on the Biafran side in defence of his people.

Always loyal to friends and colleagues, it was this great personal virtue that prompted his decision to join his pal in the same ill-fated Ebube-piloted flight on a night when visibility turned out to be zero.

That crash and the tragic death of these two Western Ibo pilots cut open the scars, and the sorrows returned to a Nigerian lady who in a single national strife lost the two great men of her life. Caro Okonweze, inconsolable, continued to fight her private wars whenever there is the clattering sound of a helicopter or a cracking ripple of a pistol.

For once upon a time

When the eyes lose their mists

Nightmares succumb to sunshine

Up with the Angles and the stars

Rests my brother, Chris

My sweetest memories

Once upon a time

Chief Utomi Onianwa – the Izoma-Onyaa of Asaba

He was a government gazette traditional chief, an indigene of Umu-Anumudu village, in Umu-Agu quarters town. About 70 years old, he was a retired Postmaster who had served in Enugu, Lagos, Owerri, Kano, Onitsha, Warri.etc.

Chief Utomi Onianwa represented the Asagba of Asaba at the Ogbeosowa reception where the Asaba community gave a Civil Reception to the federal troops. At about 4:00 pm, he read the Welcome Address on behalf of His Royal Highness, the Asagba of Asaba, the Asagba-In-Council and the entire Asaba Community. Thereafter, he made a presentation to the Federal troops. He explained that members of Asaba community were law-abiding and loyal and would give the Federal troops maximum co-operation.

Shortly after receiving the typed welcome address and the presents, the federal troops separated the men from the women in the crowd of about 4,000 people who had come to receive them. The genocide-inclined troops had laid ambush in the bushes around the reception venue, where Asaba had ironically gathered to welcome them.

These men in uniform adorned with the official insignia of the Armed Forces of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, “trained” professionals drawn from the battalions of the Second Division, led by officers trained at Sandhurst, name it – had without warning, opened fire on the unsuspecting, unarmed and innocent civilians.

A lucky survivor among a handful, Obi Utomi Onianwa who was on the front line of the civil reception party was struck on the thigh by a bullet. He fell to the ground unconscious. Other civilian victims who were hit by bullets fell on him. Later in the night, at about 8.00 pm, Chief Onianwa re-gained consciousness, possibly because of the cooling night breeze. He pushed aside the dead bodies that had lain lifeless over him and managed to get up. He then started limping in pain and commenced to go home.

 

•Victims of Asaba Civil War genocide

Augustine Egbuiwe, the great mind who had refused the Ovie’s security plans in Ughelli was among the top civil servants, businessmen, professionals, that fell at Ogbeosowa. A pioneer without compare, a civil servant of the highest dedication, was shot without qualms.

D.N. Mordi – “His Excellency”

His car plate number read M. A. 1. His postal address was P. O. Box 1, Kings Street, Asaba. Standing opposite that address was a school established by the Anglican Mission in 1882. He was No. 1 and the community called him “His Excellency… Money Road. “By his comportment, orientation and mode of dressing, D. N. believed in the number One.

President of the Pensioneer’s Union in 1967, he retired as the first African Chief Clerk of a trading unit of the United African Company in Sapele. He went on to become one of the greatest community leaders of his era. The sobriquet, “His Excellency” was won through his many exemplary deeds and many indeed were these. For instance, at some point he had been so concerned, upon learning, that most of the women who travelled into town from the neighbouring towns of Ibusa, Issele-Ukwu, Illah, Ogwashi-Ukwu and Issele Asagba were usually very thirsty, after covering distances on foot to the market. These women, in a pattern so typical of the continent, would arrive carrying all sorts of wares in their baskets and would need a place to refresh after selling off their goods in the morning hours. Mr. Mordi promptly commissioned very bid pots of water, and bought labourers to fill up the pots with clean stream water. A grin of satisfaction was his reward while watching these amazing, strong-willed women stop by at No. 1, Kings Street, quenching their thirst in turns.

There was also another story of his generosity. In those days there had been no pipe-borne water. Most people went straight to a freshwater spring by the River Niger for refreshment. Subsequently, more reports reached him that during the rainy seasons the river’s stony beaches got slippery and dangerous for youngsters who want there to draw water for their parents. In fact, every year an ample number of people would drown in accidents resulting from those slippery falls. ‘His Excellency’ took it upon himself to correct that anomaly and within few days constructed and laid into the river’s approach stony steps that made it possible for the little hilly beaches to hold for stable descent either to the main river – or to the Ngene stream running out from inside the rocks as spring water. The Ngene stream is one of the several rivulets that fed the 1000-mile river that stretched from the Futa Jalon Mountains in Sierra Leone all the way to the creeks and swamps that emptied into the Atlantic ocean and whose oil deposits would be the foundation of Nigeria’s vast wealth of the late 20 century.

Fanatically anti-pagan, D.N. Mordi avoided the native fetish or its glorified chieftaincy titles. In order not to be out-staged or ridiculed by the titled men, he decided to dramatize his own values and aspirations. For the exceptional Eze title, he bought himself an American Big One… a Chevrolet Limousine. No Eze in Nigeria had that type of car. On the other hand, the Ezes brandished white pieces of rope around their ankles as symbols of authority. In forsaking the very prestigious Alor title, Mordi bought himself a Vauxhall saloon car. For the Ogbu title, specially reserved for the foolhardy, “His Excellency” showcased a Jeep! All the three cars were custom-made with custom-designed numbers MA 1-the same car number he later shared with the Premier. Nevertheless, when the great man died his people knew his was not an Ogba Mkpisi.. a commoner’s death. They quickly rehabilitated him according to Asaba customs, with an Alor title; thus he was buried excellently, just the way he lived his life.

Ironically, the day he fell at Ogbeosowa, Captain Olu of the Nigerian army had provided him with identification passes to ensure his safety.

According to Mrs. Halim, it was on account of those promises of safety that the Idigbe family mistakenly re-surfaced from their hiding places. His Excellency was very close to Chief Alexander Idigbe, the father of the Chief Justice. He sent word to him and Idigbe’s brother, Okolie to join them at the Nnebisi Road address. “We were busy preparing meals for the Federal soldiers”, said Mrs.Halim, “when those “Gwodogwodo” people rushed in and ordered everybody to Ogbeosowa. Alexander Idigbe mentioned Captain Olu’s pass. The soldiers were evil and replied that they were not interested.”

Meanwhile, the younger brother to D.N. Mordi came down from his ceiling hide-out at No.1 King’s Street, Gabriel could no longer tolerate the molestation his brother was receiving from the soldiers. He decided to be taken along with him to Ogbeosowa. At the square, D.N. Mordi, his brother Gabriel Mordi, and his relatives Alexander and Okolie Idigbe, were separated from their wives and children. George, a seminarian, refused and fought back the soldiers, who wanted him to let go of his father.

When the machine guns exploded, D. N. Mordi, sensing the inevitable beckoned on his people to escape. In the end about four Mordis, three Gwams and two Idigbes, and many other relations from the same family and two Idigbes, and many other relations from the same family tree, lay still. It was a disaster for some families who lost all their male members in a single day, implying the permanent closure of lineages that might have been in existence since the dawn of time.

‘Goodbye, Your Excellency’.

Christian and Eddy Chukwurah – A Television Nightmare

It was prime time and Brigadier Adeyinka Adebayo, Military Governor of Western State was on the Ibadan Television Newsline. The Newscaster on that October 1967 edition mentioned Asaba and the Governor turned to face his audience. He said that he was returning to Ibadan after a tour of the war zones. He was sorry that the beautiful town of Asaba, noted for its pretty people, was burning, and civilians were being killed in large numbers.

As Brigadier Adebayo was cued out, a chilling montage of burning houses and sprawling victims of the massacres filed out across the screen “as soon as I saw the first pictures, I knew it was my brother Chris lying face down. On his top in a bloody mess was my younger brother, Eddy.” That was how in one day, October 6, 1967, Olisa Chukwurah, Nigeria’s renowned constitutional lawyer, lost his father and two brothers. For him the everlasting nightmare of losing all these men, in one fleeting moment of time came through the immediacy of television news. These two brothers were among the first victims of the Asaba massacre. On October 5, due to the heavy firing in town, the family had moved to Umuezei quarters. The following day, the 6th, they were returning to their homes when they were arrested by the federal troops. Before the Post Office junction, the soldiers subjected them to a series of humiliating taunts, and at a point the eldest of the Chukwurahs a retired Sergeant of the West African Frontier Force (WAFF), questioned the discipline of the soldiers. He was no longer ready to take any more humiliation. Before his family he was his directly on the head. Among them was his younger brother Eddy, an English-trained engineer who had a contract for the reconstruction of the Isheagu-Asaba road. It was while he was in Onitsha purchasing materials for the contract that he was cut off from his Isheagu station. The soldiers hit the handsome man by the side of the face.

Despite the close range of the shooting, he was still breathing for a long time and needed help. His sister, a matron with the Anglican Girls Grammar School, Asaba saw her two brothers on the ground, and came running.

“Chris was dead by the time I arrived on the scene at the corner of the Post Office road. Eddy’s face gushed out blood each time he managed to breathe”, lamented the matron.

“Mama, look at Uncle”, was her little son’s cry. Later, her other brother Olisa was, without warning confronted with the same grotesque pictures in far-away Ibadan, put out by insensitive television editors. Sooner or later, “those who committed those havoc will pay for it”, he consoled himself.

When the tragic news of the death of the two brothers reached their father, the old man lost his world. He needed explanation on why his sons were shot in cold blood. The soldiers out for more young blood ignored him. Papa Chukwurah, a Chief Clerk in the Nigeria colonial government since the 1930s’ was not the type to be ignored. He burst out on the soldiers. The soldiers were surprised at the old man’s audacity. Like his sons they crucified him.

Those were the types of pictures seldom used by television in any civilized society, or one aspiring to attain such description. Television is a cool medium. On account of its transcendental powers, care is often taken in editing volatile commodities for the consumption of a restive audience trapped in the violence and exigency of war.

Chuks Mommy Momah – For the Love of a Woman

The civil war in Asaba presented to the federal soldiers a ‘romantic opportunity’ to get to and in many cases, kidnap, the famous beauties of the River Niger. That many top army commanders came eventually to share the same pillows with Western Ibo women is not unconnected with the 1967 Asaba operations. One of those house operations ended on very sad unforgettable note in the case of Chuks Momah, a debonair salesman from the “Coal City” Enugu, who had returned to Umuezei quarters, and was well known to soldiers in both armies.

He was popular on both sides. Indeed, a Federal platoon had arrived at his one-storey building and steered clear. An officer however, apprehended his wife. Chuks Momah regarded his wife as a sacred cow. The beautiful woman should never be contaminated. For the love of his wife and with his bare hands, Chuks Momah fought off the invaders. A few bursts of the sub-machine gun, mortally felled him.

For the love of a woman, a great soul was cut down in his prime.

Babatunde Onukwu – A Family waste

While Asaba and Isheagu may claim the blood prize for the highest number of the victims of the Nigerian civil war, Ogwashi-ukwu stands out for producing the Onukwu family, the family that lost the highest number of filial casualties in one day-Iweadizia, Ndufodu, Anisimbili, Ogbogu, Babatunde and Augustine were on that fateful day lined up against a firing squad. Their names bore symbolic meanings worth recalling:

Iweadizia – Anger is gone

Ndufofu – While there is life

Anisimbili – I shall live

Ogbogu – The one to end the strive

Babatunde – Our father has returned

The Onukwu family proved to be so unlucky because their family house stood adjacent to the main crossroad of the town. A Federal Army Commander on the previous day had been killed in an ambush. As it was their normal practice, Federal troops dealt with anybody they encountered after such an incident.

Christian Babatunde Onukwu, son of a Nigeria Police Inspector, had gone into hiding on the approach of the troops. He was already a medical student, having passed the entrance examinations to read medicine at Ibadan in 1967. This was the culmination of an academic excellence that Babatunde had maintained since leading his class at Government College, Ughelli. After graduating from High School, he taught Physics, Chemistry and Mathematics at Ozoro Teachers’ College, Ozoro.

When the soldiers came he had taken refuge in the bush behind his father’s house. Later he argued with his mother that as long as he was not a soldier there was no need to continue hiding. When eventually, he came out, he was ordered to join his brothers who had been lined up facing a firing squad. The squad was merciless. Ogbogu was the only survivor. A huge hole, created by an exiting bullet almost separated his hips from his buttocks. He was writhing in pains and later in the night announced to Babatunde’s mother. “The Onukwu children have been wiped out; please take care of my children”.

Captain Ebube – The Show me Pilot

Captain Ebube was in that batch of the Nigeria Air Force personnel trained in West Germany, shortly before the war. Unlike his in-law, Captain Ozieh, who took sides with the Federal Army, Captain Ebube escaped to Biafra after the fall of his hometown Ogwashi-Ukwu to the Federal troops.

When he learnt of the Federal atrocities he jumped into his cockpit and started displaying sorties in the air that soon attracted crowds in Port Harcourt. He would fly up in those helicopters and suddenly in a dare devil turn around start plummeting tails down to the ground. War-weary Port Harcourt residents would whistle in appreciation and wonder. One day after inviting his relations, including then Vice Chancellor of the University of Port Harcourt, Professor Okonjo, Captain Ebube almost crashed into the Kingsway Stores. But then just as he was about hitting the roof, the maverick pilot somersaulted and veered into Alice’s wonderland. After all, was he not the most respected chopper pilot in the force?

One day to the end of the war, Ebube with his good old pal and fellow Western Ibo pilot Captain Ogbolu, went to one of those few parties that were reserved for the selected few in the enclave. The party over and with visibility very low, the Captain was advised to pass the night.

But the young pilot must return to base. That night the chopper and its pilots did not go far. The helicopter collided with a palm tree and that was the last flight of this prince from Ogwashi-Ukwu. He was the airman’s ideal. Indeed a brother of his, Martin Ebube, a Washington DC – based graphics designer, would relate to the author in the United States that Captain Ebube used to land in their village in the heat of the war.

Chris Ogbolu – Once upon a time

The Nigerian civil war ended up being personal wars for so many Western Ibos. Carol Okonweze, the beautiful daughter of an Akwukwu civil servant had lost her celebrated husband, Colonel Gabriel Okonweze, in the counter-coup of July 1966.

For a long time she and her family refused consolation. It was the bubbling effervescence and the strong support of her younger brother, Captain Chris Ogbolu, fresh from an Air Force training course in West Germany that kept her going.

All through the family’s ordeal and refugee experiences in the Biafran enclave, Chris stood by his family. An old boy of St. Patrick’s College, Asaba, Chris returned from Germany in 1966, the youngest pilot of the Nigerian Air force. This group included Tony Ikhazaboh as well as the likes of Anumalor, Okpere, and so on. Ogbolu would fight on the Biafran side in defence of his people.

Always loyal to friends and colleagues, it was this great personal virtue that prompted his decision to join his pal in the same ill-fated Ebube-piloted flight on a night when visibility turned out to be zero.

That crash and the tragic death of these two Western Ibo pilots cut open the scars, and the sorrows returned to a Nigerian lady who in a single national strife lost the two great men of her life. Caro Okonweze, inconsolable, continued to fight her private wars whenever there is the clattering sound of a helicopter or a cracking ripple of a pistol.

For once upon a time

When the eyes lose their mists

Nightmares succumb to sunshine

Up with the Angles and the stars

Rests my brother, Chris

My sweetest memories

Once upon a time

Chief Utomi Onianwa – the Izoma-Onyaa of Asaba

He was a government gazette traditional chief, an indigene of Umu-Anumudu village, in Umu-Agu quarters town. About 70 years old, he was a retired Postmaster who had served in Enugu, Lagos, Owerri, Kano, Onitsha, Warri.etc.

Chief Utomi Onianwa represented the Asagba of Asaba at the Ogbeosowa reception where the Asaba community gave a Civil Reception to the federal troops. At about 4:00 pm, he read the Welcome Address on behalf of His Royal Highness, the Asagba of Asaba, the Asagba-In-Council and the entire Asaba Community. Thereafter, he made a presentation to the Federal troops. He explained that members of Asaba community were law-abiding and loyal and would give the Federal troops maximum co-operation.

Shortly after receiving the typed welcome address and the presents, the federal troops separated the men from the women in the crowd of about 4,000 people who had come to receive them. The genocide-inclined troops had laid ambush in the bushes around the reception venue, where Asaba had ironically gathered to welcome them.

These men in uniform adorned with the official insignia of the Armed Forces of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, “trained” professionals drawn from the battalions of the Second Division, led by officers trained at Sandhurst, name it – had without warning, opened fire on the unsuspecting, unarmed and innocent civilians.

A lucky survivor among a handful, Obi Utomi Onianwa who was on the front line of the civil reception party was struck on the thigh by a bullet. He fell to the ground unconscious. Other civilian victims who were hit by bullets fell on him. Later in the night, at about 8.00 pm, Chief Onianwa re-gained consciousness, possibly because of the cooling night breeze. He pushed aside the dead bodies that had lain lifeless over him and managed to get up. He then started limping in pain and commenced to go home.

•Victims of Asaba Civil War genocide

Augustine Egbuiwe, the great mind who had refused the Ovie’s security plans in Ughelli was among the top civil servants, businessmen, professionals, that fell at Ogbeosowa. A pioneer without compare, a civil servant of the highest dedication, was shot without qualms.

D.N. Mordi – “His Excellency”

His car plate number read M. A. 1. His postal address was P. O. Box 1, Kings Street, Asaba. Standing opposite that address was a school established by the Anglican Mission in 1882. He was No. 1 and the community called him “His Excellency… Money Road. “By his comportment, orientation and mode of dressing, D. N. believed in the number One.

President of the Pensioneer’s Union in 1967, he retired as the first African Chief Clerk of a trading unit of the United African Company in Sapele. He went on to become one of the greatest community leaders of his era. The sobriquet, “His Excellency” was won through his many exemplary deeds and many indeed were these. For instance, at some point he had been so concerned, upon learning, that most of the women who travelled into town from the neighbouring towns of Ibusa, Issele-Ukwu, Illah, Ogwashi-Ukwu and Issele Asagba were usually very thirsty, after covering distances on foot to the market. These women, in a pattern so typical of the continent, would arrive carrying all sorts of wares in their baskets and would need a place to refresh after selling off their goods in the morning hours. Mr. Mordi promptly commissioned very bid pots of water, and bought labourers to fill up the pots with clean stream water. A grin of satisfaction was his reward while watching these amazing, strong-willed women stop by at No. 1, Kings Street, quenching their thirst in turns.

There was also another story of his generosity. In those days there had been no pipe-borne water. Most people went straight to a freshwater spring by the River Niger for refreshment. Subsequently, more reports reached him that during the rainy seasons the river’s stony beaches got slippery and dangerous for youngsters who want there to draw water for their parents. In fact, every year an ample number of people would drown in accidents resulting from those slippery falls. ‘His Excellency’ took it upon himself to correct that anomaly and within few days constructed and laid into the river’s approach stony steps that made it possible for the little hilly beaches to hold for stable descent either to the main river – or to the Ngene stream running out from inside the rocks as spring water. The Ngene stream is one of the several rivulets that fed the 1000-mile river that stretched from the Futa Jalon Mountains in Sierra Leone all the way to the creeks and swamps that emptied into the Atlantic ocean and whose oil deposits would be the foundation of Nigeria’s vast wealth of the late 20 century.

Fanatically anti-pagan, D.N. Mordi avoided the native fetish or its glorified chieftaincy titles. In order not to be out-staged or ridiculed by the titled men, he decided to dramatize his own values and aspirations. For the exceptional Eze title, he bought himself an American Big One… a Chevrolet Limousine. No Eze in Nigeria had that type of car. On the other hand, the Ezes brandished white pieces of rope around their ankles as symbols of authority. In forsaking the very prestigious Alor title, Mordi bought himself a Vauxhall saloon car. For the Ogbu title, specially reserved for the foolhardy, “His Excellency” showcased a Jeep! All the three cars were custom-made with custom-designed numbers MA 1-the same car number he later shared with the Premier. Nevertheless, when the great man died his people knew his was not an Ogba Mkpisi.. a commoner’s death. They quickly rehabilitated him according to Asaba customs, with an Alor title; thus he was buried excellently, just the way he lived his life.

Ironically, the day he fell at Ogbeosowa, Captain Olu of the Nigerian army had provided him with identification passes to ensure his safety.

According to Mrs. Halim, it was on account of those promises of safety that the Idigbe family mistakenly re-surfaced from their hiding places. His Excellency was very close to Chief Alexander Idigbe, the father of the Chief Justice. He sent word to him and Idigbe’s brother, Okolie to join them at the Nnebisi Road address. “We were busy preparing meals for the Federal soldiers”, said Mrs.Halim, “when those “Gwodogwodo” people rushed in and ordered everybody to Ogbeosowa. Alexander Idigbe mentioned Captain Olu’s pass. The soldiers were evil and replied that they were not interested.”

Meanwhile, the younger brother to D.N. Mordi came down from his ceiling hide-out at No.1 King’s Street, Gabriel could no longer tolerate the molestation his brother was receiving from the soldiers. He decided to be taken along with him to Ogbeosowa. At the square, D.N. Mordi, his brother Gabriel Mordi, and his relatives Alexander and Okolie Idigbe, were separated from their wives and children. George, a seminarian, refused and fought back the soldiers, who wanted him to let go of his father.

When the machine guns exploded, D. N. Mordi, sensing the inevitable beckoned on his people to escape. In the end about four Mordis, three Gwams and two Idigbes, and many other relations from the same family and two Idigbes, and many other relations from the same family tree, lay still. It was a disaster for some families who lost all their male members in a single day, implying the permanent closure of lineages that might have been in existence since the dawn of time.

‘Goodbye, Your Excellency’.

Christian and Eddy Chukwurah – A Television Nightmare

It was prime time and Brigadier Adeyinka Adebayo, Military Governor of Western State was on the Ibadan Television Newsline. The Newscaster on that October 1967 edition mentioned Asaba and the Governor turned to face his audience. He said that he was returning to Ibadan after a tour of the war zones. He was sorry that the beautiful town of Asaba, noted for its pretty people, was burning, and civilians were being killed in large numbers.

As Brigadier Adebayo was cued out, a chilling montage of burning houses and sprawling victims of the massacres filed out across the screen “as soon as I saw the first pictures, I knew it was my brother Chris lying face down. On his top in a bloody mess was my younger brother, Eddy.” That was how in one day, October 6, 1967, Olisa Chukwurah, Nigeria’s renowned constitutional lawyer, lost his father and two brothers. For him the everlasting nightmare of losing all these men, in one fleeting moment of time came through the immediacy of television news. These two brothers were among the first victims of the Asaba massacre. On October 5, due to the heavy firing in town, the family had moved to Umuezei quarters. The following day, the 6th, they were returning to their homes when they were arrested by the federal troops. Before the Post Office junction, the soldiers subjected them to a series of humiliating taunts, and at a point the eldest of the Chukwurahs a retired Sergeant of the West African Frontier Force (WAFF), questioned the discipline of the soldiers. He was no longer ready to take any more humiliation. Before his family he was his directly on the head. Among them was his younger brother Eddy, an English-trained engineer who had a contract for the reconstruction of the Isheagu-Asaba road. It was while he was in Onitsha purchasing materials for the contract that he was cut off from his Isheagu station. The soldiers hit the handsome man by the side of the face.

Despite the close range of the shooting, he was still breathing for a long time and needed help. His sister, a matron with the Anglican Girls Grammar School, Asaba saw her two brothers on the ground, and came running.

“Chris was dead by the time I arrived on the scene at the corner of the Post Office road. Eddy’s face gushed out blood each time he managed to breathe”, lamented the matron.

“Mama, look at Uncle”, was her little son’s cry. Later, her other brother Olisa was, without warning confronted with the same grotesque pictures in far-away Ibadan, put out by insensitive television editors. Sooner or later, “those who committed those havoc will pay for it”, he consoled himself.

When the tragic news of the death of the two brothers reached their father, the old man lost his world. He needed explanation on why his sons were shot in cold blood. The soldiers out for more young blood ignored him. Papa Chukwurah, a Chief Clerk in the Nigeria colonial government since the 1930s’ was not the type to be ignored. He burst out on the soldiers. The soldiers were surprised at the old man’s audacity. Like his sons they crucified him.

Those were the types of pictures seldom used by television in any civilized society, or one aspiring to attain such description. Television is a cool medium. On account of its transcendental powers, care is often taken in editing volatile commodities for the consumption of a restive audience trapped in the violence and exigency of war.

Chuks Mommy Momah – For the Love of a Woman

The civil war in Asaba presented to the federal soldiers a ‘romantic opportunity’ to get to and in many cases, kidnap, the famous beauties of the River Niger. That many top army commanders came eventually to share the same pillows with Western Ibo women is not unconnected with the 1967 Asaba operations. One of those house operations ended on very sad unforgettable note in the case of Chuks Momah, a debonair salesman from the “Coal City” Enugu, who had returned to Umuezei quarters, and was well known to soldiers in both armies.

He was popular on both sides. Indeed, a Federal platoon had arrived at his one-storey building and steered clear. An officer however, apprehended his wife. Chuks Momah regarded his wife as a sacred cow. The beautiful woman should never be contaminated. For the love of his wife and with his bare hands, Chuks Momah fought off the invaders. A few bursts of the sub-machine gun, mortally felled him.

For the love of a woman, a great soul was cut down in his prime.

Babatunde Onukwu – A Family waste

While Asaba and Isheagu may claim the blood prize for the highest number of the victims of the Nigerian civil war, Ogwashi-ukwu stands out for producing the Onukwu family, the family that lost the highest number of filial casualties in one day-Iweadizia, Ndufodu, Anisimbili, Ogbogu, Babatunde and Augustine were on that fateful day lined up against a firing squad. Their names bore symbolic meanings worth recalling:

Iweadizia – Anger is gone

Ndufofu – While there is life

Anisimbili – I shall live

Ogbogu – The one to end the strive

Babatunde – Our father has returned

The Onukwu family proved to be so unlucky because their family house stood adjacent to the main crossroad of the town. A Federal Army Commander on the previous day had been killed in an ambush. As it was their normal practice, Federal troops dealt with anybody they encountered after such an incident.

Christian Babatunde Onukwu, son of a Nigeria Police Inspector, had gone into hiding on the approach of the troops. He was already a medical student, having passed the entrance examinations to read medicine at Ibadan in 1967. This was the culmination of an academic excellence that Babatunde had maintained since leading his class at Government College, Ughelli. After graduating from High School, he taught Physics, Chemistry and Mathematics at Ozoro Teachers’ College, Ozoro.

When the soldiers came he had taken refuge in the bush behind his father’s house. Later he argued with his mother that as long as he was not a soldier there was no need to continue hiding. When eventually, he came out, he was ordered to join his brothers who had been lined up facing a firing squad. The squad was merciless. Ogbogu was the only survivor. A huge hole, created by an exiting bullet almost separated his hips from his buttocks. He was writhing in pains and later in the night announced to Babatunde’s mother. “The Onukwu children have been wiped out; please take care of my children”.

Captain Ebube – The Show me Pilot

Captain Ebube was in that batch of the Nigeria Air Force personnel trained in West Germany, shortly before the war. Unlike his in-law, Captain Ozieh, who took sides with the Federal Army, Captain Ebube escaped to Biafra after the fall of his hometown Ogwashi-Ukwu to the Federal troops.

When he learnt of the Federal atrocities he jumped into his cockpit and started displaying sorties in the air that soon attracted crowds in Port Harcourt. He would fly up in those helicopters and suddenly in a dare devil turn around start plummeting tails down to the ground. War-weary Port Harcourt residents would whistle in appreciation and wonder. One day after inviting his relations, including then Vice Chancellor of the University of Port Harcourt, Professor Okonjo, Captain Ebube almost crashed into the Kingsway Stores. But then just as he was about hitting the roof, the maverick pilot somersaulted and veered into Alice’s wonderland. After all, was he not the most respected chopper pilot in the force?

One day to the end of the war, Ebube with his good old pal and fellow Western Ibo pilot Captain Ogbolu, went to one of those few parties that were reserved for the selected few in the enclave. The party over and with visibility very low, the Captain was advised to pass the night.

But the young pilot must return to base. That night the chopper and its pilots did not go far. The helicopter collided with a palm tree and that was the last flight of this prince from Ogwashi-Ukwu. He was the airman’s ideal. Indeed a brother of his, Martin Ebube, a Washington DC – based graphics designer, would relate to the author in the United States that Captain Ebube used to land in their village in the heat of the war.

Chris Ogbolu – Once upon a time

The Nigerian civil war ended up being personal wars for so many Western Ibos. Carol Okonweze, the beautiful daughter of an Akwukwu civil servant had lost her celebrated husband, Colonel Gabriel Okonweze, in the counter-coup of July 1966.

For a long time she and her family refused consolation. It was the bubbling effervescence and the strong support of her younger brother, Captain Chris Ogbolu, fresh from an Air Force training course in West Germany that kept her going.

All through the family’s ordeal and refugee experiences in the Biafran enclave, Chris stood by his family. An old boy of St. Patrick’s College, Asaba, Chris returned from Germany in 1966, the youngest pilot of the Nigerian Air force. This group included Tony Ikhazaboh as well as the likes of Anumalor, Okpere, and so on. Ogbolu would fight on the Biafran side in defence of his people.

Always loyal to friends and colleagues, it was this great personal virtue that prompted his decision to join his pal in the same ill-fated Ebube-piloted flight on a night when visibility turned out to be zero.

That crash and the tragic death of these two Western Ibo pilots cut open the scars, and the sorrows returned to a Nigerian lady who in a single national strife lost the two great men of her life. Caro Okonweze, inconsolable, continued to fight her private wars whenever there is the clattering sound of a helicopter or a cracking ripple of a pistol.

For once upon a time

When the eyes lose their mists

Nightmares succumb to sunshine

Up with the Angles and the stars

Rests my brother, Chris

My sweetest memories

Once upon a time

Chief Utomi Onianwa – the Izoma-Onyaa of Asaba

He was a government gazette traditional chief, an indigene of Umu-Anumudu village, in Umu-Agu quarters town. About 70 years old, he was a retired Postmaster who had served in Enugu, Lagos, Owerri, Kano, Onitsha, Warri.etc.

Chief Utomi Onianwa represented the Asagba of Asaba at the Ogbeosowa reception where the Asaba community gave a Civil Reception to the federal troops. At about 4:00 pm, he read the Welcome Address on behalf of His Royal Highness, the Asagba of Asaba, the Asagba-In-Council and the entire Asaba Community. Thereafter, he made a presentation to the Federal troops. He explained that members of Asaba community were law-abiding and loyal and would give the Federal troops maximum co-operation.

Shortly after receiving the typed welcome address and the presents, the federal troops separated the men from the women in the crowd of about 4,000 people who had come to receive them. The genocide-inclined troops had laid ambush in the bushes around the reception venue, where Asaba had ironically gathered to welcome them.

These men in uniform adorned with the official insignia of the Armed Forces of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, “trained” professionals drawn from the battalions of the Second Division, led by officers trained at Sandhurst, name it – had without warning, opened fire on the unsuspecting, unarmed and innocent civilians.

A lucky survivor among a handful, Obi Utomi Onianwa who was on the front line of the civil reception party was struck on the thigh by a bullet. He fell to the ground unconscious. Other civilian victims who were hit by bullets fell on him. Later in the night, at about 8.00 pm, Chief Onianwa re-gained consciousness, possibly because of the cooling night breeze. He pushed aside the dead bodies that had lain lifeless over him and managed to get up. He then started limping in pain and commenced to go home.

•Victims of Asaba Civil War genocide

The soldiers took him away and after some days his decomposing body, still covered in his native wrapper clothing, was discovered at Ogwu’s rubber plantation. Many years later Elue’s first son “Deputy”, confronted the Obi on why he did not make a move to save his father. The Obi replied: “when they went to Isheagu they buried the Chief alive. I’m sorry about your father, I was just not ready for that kind of death”.

George Ngwuamaka Ozieh – ‘Jalla the Incomparable’

Few days to the outbreak of the Nigerian civil war, the nation was shocked by the violent death of the army Chief of Staff. A helicopter crash had claimed the lives of Lt. Colonel Joe Akahan, his navigator Lieutenant Salami and his young Igbo pilot.

The late pilot, George Ngwuamaka Ozieh, popularly called “Jalla’ by his friends and colleagues had recently returned from an Air Force training course in West Germany. He was among the second batch of the Nigerian graduating air force pilots returning to the uncertainty of the Nigerians civil strife.

On arrival in Nigeria, the Midwesterners in that group moved to Benin City for posting. It was in Benin that George made his decision to join forces with the federal side. According to his sister, Mrs. Grace Iloanya, the circumstances of “my brother’s birth and the obvious mysteries surrounding his many actions convinced us that George would not stay long with us.” The saddest day for the family, recalled Mrs. Iloanya, was when he resigned his lucrative job with the Federal Ministry of Finance and enlisted with the armed forces. Our fears for his life increased and for that matter, it was the first step in the fulfillment of that prophesy by a Yoruba seer, who after the stormy weather and many deaths by lightening that heralded George’s unusual birth, predicted that he was a child of war, he was therefore going to die by the sword…”

George, born April 9, 1942, was picked specifically by the Army Chief of Staff to fly his official tour of duty. Completing this particular mission to the army base in Makurdi, George on the orders of the Chief of Staff diverted to an unscheduled trip to Gboko, a few miles from Makurdi in Benue State. Gboko is Col. Akahan’s hometown. It was in this semi-equatorial forest, where the Savannah tapers off the hilly topography of the expanding forest that George, his navigator and the Nigerian Chief of Army Staff saw their last action. His cousin, Police Commissioner Nzemeka of the Lagos Police Command, identified his body.

Bringing his remains to Ogwashi-Ukwu was to take another month, following the surprise offensive of the Biafran Army that took over the Midwest on August 9, 1967. His body, which arrived Benin City August 3, was to lie in the mortuary for another 12 days as power changed hands in the capital city. Ironically, George Ozieh was to be given a decent burial by the Biafran Command.

Like the late Nzeogwu, it was a sad irony that the army they fought against could not help but give them recognition and honour. These two fine soldiers who fell defending their beliefs and ideas, earned respect on both sides of the fighting lines.

The Biafran Command, at the pilot’s funeral, saluted his passage by conducting a parade of full military honours at Ogwashi-Ukwu on August 15, 1967.

Joe Obiakpani – Death of a Prophet

The last born of the brilliant Obiakpani family, Joe was an all-star sportsman with great inclination to the Physical Sciences. By 1966, he was already admitted into the very competitive higher school programme of the College of Immaculate Conception, Enugu. It was the tradition laid out by the Reverend gentlemen managing that school at that time, that all their ‘prophets’ on completing the secondary school education earned automatic enrolment into higher school.

The ‘prophets’ were those students expected to make distinction in the School Certificate Examination. On the strength of his academic records, Joe was a ‘prophet’.

On October 7, 1967, he could not prophesy the tide or the shape of the war. He allowed the decision and his fate to be determined by his ageing father. When the soldiers came they gunned down the “prophet”.

Benedict Ikenye Okocha – The End of Infinite Variety

My father, Ogbueshi Nnayelugo Benedict Okocha, had no reasons for staying back when the bullets started flying into Asaba. A retired Civil Servant, he had many of his friends in Onitsha and beyond. His last station, the Uzuakoli Leper Colony, dreaded on account of society’s attitude to that disease, would have been a welcome refuge.

But my father never considered himself or his family first in times of emergencies. Just as there was no counseling before the family ran into those patients for the first time in Uzuakoli, my father did not show any emotions, as my mother cried and begged him to evacuate us from the booming mortars and the rattle on the machine guns. My father was rather most concerned with the safety of the whole community. At one of the meetings, he thought it would be discreet to ask the Biafran army to withdraw in time across the river to avoid civilians coming under crossfire if the Federal army was to fight for the town.

My father’s community inclination was a product of his background, as a character that needed applause, he bought it with laughter and generosity. For example, when the Barclays Bank needed an office in Asaba and approached him for a deal he selflessly went to Oji Joseph Nwokolo, a descendant of an Asaba ruling family and offered him a new house, if he would vacate his more visible estate on Nnebisi road for the bank. In one stroke, he made money for the Nwokolos, gave them a new home and succeeded in co-founding the first major banking facility for Asaba and parts of Aniocha areas. A self-taught historian he was the richest philosopher in that community. No wonder, he read so wide, kept files and clippings of the activities and speeches of the leading philosophers of his era. John F. Kennedy, Nikita Khruschev, Mohandas Gandhi, Josef Goebells, Sukarno, Gamel Abdul Nazeer, Adolf Hitler, Churchill, De Gaulle, Patrice Lumumba, Fidel Castro, Dias Bandaranaike, Mao Tse Tung, Josep Tito, Francisco Franco, Ahmed Ben Bella, Kwame Nkwumah, Dunduzu Chisiza, Nwalimu Nyerere, Yuri Gagarin (first man in outer space) Nnamdi Azikiwe, Aminu Kano, Olu Akinfosile, Obafemi Awolowo, Adegoke Adelabu, Sanya Onabamiro, Peter Enahoro, (Peter Pan) Justice Udo Udoma, Dennis Osadebay, Chike Idigbe, Obi Eluaka, Okafor Edozien, F. H. Utomi, Okonkwo Adigwe and Nduka Eze.

There were also his very close friends, fellow activists and sartorial pacesetters with whom he exchanged correspondences. Those letters border on community developments, on politics, history, education and of course the latest fashion from Ozendale, Manchester! In those days the African civil servants ordered their wears direct from England. Those circle of friends included “Clever” Nwokobia, “Smart” Ijeh, “Confidential” Okonweze and Gwam the “Insurmountable”.

As an accountant, he frowned at the fraud that reigned within the Umuezei land transactions. Umuezei, the richest quarters in Asaba owned the sands and swamps of the River Niger, Cable Point and much of the property across the Asaba Textile Mills. When the chiefs in charge did not present good books, he led the youths to sue. He thought that the villagers, instead of sharing money from the community land proceeds, should organize scholarship funds and build their own schools and hospitals.

Under the early guidance of Madam Christy Okocha, a wealthy trader and the first African to marry E. C. Palmer, an English Resident Officer for Asaba Division, my father steadily grew in community influence. Using the wings of his sister to shape opinions and confer status, he kept files on notable personalities, history of the world and community events leading to his gruesome death.

A lover of the diary and newspaper clippings, his hobby included European War History, Geography and listening to the World News by the British Broadcasting Corporation, and the Voice of America. “This is Paul Park reporting in special English from the Voice of America in Washington D.C.”, that was my first contact with the electronic media back in 1966.

As a teacher, he approached us in the evenings and with the exact dramatic panache of Josef Geobells, the German War Minister of Enlightenment, he would describe to his bewitched audience the panza military offensive that toppled the old European order. Then, momentarily replacing the rim of his glasses, playing the stages and pathos leading to the capitulation of Paris “the most beautiful, my father would suddenly announce: “Gentlemen, King Hawkin of Norway is a king without country. And General Charles de Gaulle of France is a general without an army”.

My father was Josef Geobells! With his background, my father regarded the war on the Niger as something romantic, to be added to his rich archives. That would be his last assignment as a war correspondent without media accreditation.

As the federal army moved into Asaba after a bloody contact on the outskirts, my father took notes and filed his reports. When he was being taken away, few took notice. My father at that point became a victim of the potent forces of the native African civilization which at that period in history, were in collusion with the law and-order system set up by the emerging brutal colonial leviathan. Their Christian dogma would not accept the Africans’ tested prowess that by and large fulfilled the cardinal pivots of scientific research. For universality, the native African did not know of any other world but their own. For example “Onyema Na Eke” was a regular visitor to Okocha Mkpagbu. They experimented together and my grandfather who crossed the River Niger in seconds but never was a swimmer also returned his visits in far away Eke. Was it not a statement of fact as observed by living Asaba centurions that Okocha Mkpagbu could metamorphose from man to a lion? When others were dancing, he danced in the air, catching the rythmn by stomping from one rooftop to another, then, all of a sudden, he was gone. He could disappear into thin air…

Okocha Mkpagbu! Agogo Wa oba!

The Lion that devours his friends!

… the living Python!

My father knew the incantations but as a Christian was never schooled in the methodologies of the native occult or their metaphysics. Because he was never an apprentice as required by the custom, Okocha Mgbagbuwa Attah, when he saw his death coming, had in 1923 buried his box of medicine (akpati ogwu). Okocha Mkpagbu apparently never forgave his Christian first son for abdicating the great traditions of his forefathers. Now my father at that terrible exigency wished he could do those notable tricks. That was when he suddenly realized my presence and he shouted. “Move and go with your mother! Awolo adi efu uzor”. The Lion dynasty can never get lost! At this time Cable Point was burning. My father would be among the first victims of the soldiers whose mission to Asaba on October 7, 1967 was to destroy and take no prisoners. We may never know the amount of “treasure” that was destroyed at No. 38 Nnebisi Road. For the custodian of those archives, an irreplaceable soul of infinite variety went with the ball.

E.C. Philips (MBE) – The Last of the Origins

In 1970, the war was over. The military government of the Midwest State, appalled by the state of destruction at Asaba, rushed relief materials to the returning refugees.

Only one individual could be trusted to posses the honesty and the organizational capability to distribute the relief materials so as to reach all the refugees. Therefore, the government requested for Mr. E. C. Philips, (MBE), to take charge. When the materials arrived, Mr. Philips, a highly regarded civil servant honoured with the title of Member of the British Empire by the Queen of England, failed to turn up. The government agents moved the relief materials to the Catholic Mission. The Reverend gentlemen in the mission knew the fate of E.C. Philips and at once set up an organization to distribute relief to the refugees. But unknown to the government, Mr. E. C. Philips had been felled with the other pensioners by Federal troops during the blind rage and the subsequent killings that devoured Asaba natives, on October 7.

A keen historian, Philips had observed in the 40s “that the fundamental problem of the African education was the mechanical imitation of British education” He denounced the requirements of a “foreign syllabus as unsuitable for students of this country”, explaining that “teachers, using books written by Englishmen for English boys are talking about things they do not understand”. He was among the pioneers that encouraged Africans to write their own books. He reintroduced the African Syllabus for examination purposes. As a teacher who was familiar with the histories of the American civil war and of the two world wars, Mr. Philips had advised the people to receive the Federal troops and stay calm. He did not budge with his friends from the East, led by the former Justice of the World court, Sir Louis Mbanefo, asked him to cross over and seek sanctuary in Onitsha.

Mr. E. C. Philips pioneered education projects in Udi, Ajalli, Onitsha and in parts of the old western Nigeria at Ibadan. A winner of the Victoria Cross For Service To Humanity, Philips was also the first African Justice of Peace in the old Asaba Division.

As the first commissioned Higher Cambridge University Examination Invigilator in Onistsha, he invigilated the papers of such future geniuses as Professor Chike Obi, Professor Nwabueze and Justice Kaine. It was therefore, a sad irony that such an accomplished gentlemen, one of the last of the diminishing stock of Nigerians who made it by merit, was executed by gunmen dangerously ill equipped to understand the worth of their victim.

His monument of artifacts, pre-colonial historical documents, merit awards and mementos were not spared. Those collections that could fill a state library and embellish the life and times of this influential light of the pre-independence era were obliterated along with the foundation of the Philips family riverside home at Otuogwu, Asaba.

We are not likely to ever meet his kind of meteor for a long time. Indeed, he was the last of the ‘Origins’.

Augustine Egbuiwe – Pioneer Without Claims

Pioneer graduate of St. Thomas’ Teachers College, Ibusa, Augustine Egbuiwe started teaching in 1924. Standing in front of a class of men of his father’s age, he would be provided with a stool to enable him reach the blackboard. As the headmaster of Sacred Heart School, Warri, he prepared and influenced the career of some of the present leaders of the Delta region.

Shortly before independence, the colonial government mindful of his excellent contributions towards the education of the African people, moved him to the Local Government Division. He served as the District Officer of Oshun, Midwest from the Western Region, he was named the (DO) District Officer for Benin and later promoted Senior Divisional Officer (DSO) for Warri and Western Urhobo provinces.

His adept knowledge of the people’s culture, his reputation for forthrightness and discipline, were to be a major asset whenever the government appointed him arbiter to many of the traditional chieftaincy feuds in the communities under his charge. In 1967, as the war approached the Urhobo Provinces, the Ovie of Ughelli sent a message to the Igbo senior divisional officer. The royal father in appreciation of Mr. Egbuiwe’s contributions to the development of his division promised him the security of his palace in case he decided to remain at Ughelli.

A touched Egbuiwe remembered two of his sons abandoned in Benin.

Other members of his family were at Asaba. But on October 15, 1967, Tony Egbuiwe, his second son lay prone, crying all day in a ceiling hideout in Benin. His host had reported to him that his father’s car with plate numbers MA 1018 had been located in Benin. Soldiers were driving about in his father’s car and were telling horrible stories of the wipe out operations in Asaba.