Welcome, Guest: Register On Nairaland / LOGIN! / Trending / Recent / NewStats: 3,195,373 members, 7,958,025 topics. Date: Wednesday, 25 September 2024 at 07:34 AM |
Nairaland Forum / Nairaland / General / Culture / . (1386 Views)
The Dialects Of Ibibio And Where They Are Spoken / Efik/ibibio Names And Their Meaning / Names Of Animal In Efik/ibibio (2) (3) (4)
. by Nobody: 7:03am On Aug 30, 2016 |
. |
Re: . by LoveMachine(m): 7:07am On Aug 30, 2016 |
|
Re: . by kernel504(m): 7:13am On Aug 30, 2016 |
Afonja and Sons. 2 Likes |
Re: . by Emycord: 7:17am On Aug 30, 2016 |
Useless post where did u get it from? The people u mentioned are even more sympathetic to the biafran cause than ijaws 1 Like |
Re: . by Nobody: 7:27am On Aug 30, 2016 |
. |
Re: . by NameCheckers: 7:29am On Aug 30, 2016 |
I only know one ibibio girl.... She vowed to marry igbo guy.... Buh can't conclude like u tho |
Re: . by menxer: 7:41am On Aug 30, 2016 |
So because a few Ibibios are "sympathetic" to Biafra cause means Ibibios as a people are inferior to igbos? When did sympathy equate inferiority? Any Ibibio person that knows history would surely laugh at this your attempt to drag Ibibios into the ethnic war going on with the tripod (yoruba, Hausa, igbo) 1 Like |
Re: . by Bellzee: 7:47am On Aug 30, 2016 |
Stewpid Post! |
Re: . by Udmaster(m): 7:52am On Aug 30, 2016 |
@OP, what is your motive behind this divisive thread?
Ibibios are NOT Inferior, they and the Igbos have been neighbours for years.
So there is a friendship between the two.
Leave Ibibios alone.
Mynd44 let this thread be pulled down, its insultive. Cc: Lalasticlala 1 Like |
Re: . by Nobody: 7:52am On Aug 30, 2016 |
. |
Re: . by Udmaster(m): 7:56am On Aug 30, 2016 |
Braden104:you registered on August 28 2016 and this is ur 1st thread. What is ur other moniker? your divide and conquer tactics is DEAD on arrival. Mynd44, Rule no.2 violated. |
Re: . by attackgat: 7:57am On Aug 30, 2016 |
Braden104: Greater potential? How? Won't they still be under Nigeria where they will have neither have control of their resources and economic life? So what potential is there? The ethnic nationalities that constitute Akwa-Cross are the closest people to the Igbos. Most of the Biafran groups have said that should Biafra be realised, the area called Akwa-Cross will become "Oyono Region" with 100% resource control. I have to admit that I don't were the word Oyono comes from or its meaning, it could be the name of a Deity in Ibibio land. |
Re: . by OMAR12: 7:57am On Aug 30, 2016 |
stupidity, so because they are close to each other u now believe that they feel inferior to we the Igbo, let me make it clear to u I will take an awka cross man any day any time they are the most hospitable people in Nigeria, I am lucky to meet one that is loyal I don't mind paying her dowry, ur divide and rule tactics can works with the ikwerre who has lost their sense of identity, BT don't u, I mean don't u dere come close to those from awka cross and try that divide are rule between akwa cross and we the Igbo, I won't mind feasting on u. not minding if the mod has a ban somewhere. rubbish thread. |
Re: . by Nobody: 8:00am On Aug 30, 2016 |
Braden104: I don't know why you yorubbas are like this. My Ibibio and SS brothers...are you people seeing this? SMH |
Re: . by OMAR12: 8:01am On Aug 30, 2016 |
if this thread is not pulled down, then he and the mods have ulterior motive. |
Re: . by BoleynDynaSTY(f): 8:01am On Aug 30, 2016 |
menxer: You really have time replying that Op,they'll just sit in their bedrooms and start cooking up stupid stories 1 Like |
Re: . by Udmaster(m): 8:03am On Aug 30, 2016 |
attackgat:The OP registered on August 2016, He is here with a divide and conquer tactics. Don't fall for it. 1 Like |
Re: . by Udmaster(m): 8:06am On Aug 30, 2016 |
Real2020:He registered on 28 August 2016 and this is hiz 1st thread. A divide and conquer tactics. An insultive one. |
Re: . by Nobody: 8:07am On Aug 30, 2016 |
. |
Re: . by Udmaster(m): 8:10am On Aug 30, 2016 |
Braden104:your tactics is DEAD ON ARRIVAL. Cc: Mynd44, rule no.2 violated. You have another moniker on nairaland. You can't fool anyone here. 1 Like |
Re: . by Xapio: 8:38am On Aug 30, 2016 |
This ethnic bigotry induced thread needs to be killed.. :ggg) g) ggggggggggggg Vbbbhggccxxxxcc CNN bbbbnnnnn .. ......................ghbbbcxxxc .....bvbbbfcccbbb Bggfe |
Re: . by fr3do(m): 9:50am On Aug 30, 2016 |
...
|
Re: . by fr3do(m): 9:58am On Aug 30, 2016 |
THE THING AROUND YOUR NECK you thought everybody in America had a car and a gun; your uncles and aunts and cousins thought so, too. Right after you won the American visa lottery, they told you: In a month, you will have a big car. Soon, a big house. But don’t buy a gun like those Americans. They trooped into the room in Lagos where you lived with your father and mother and three siblings, leaning against the unpainted walls because there weren’t enough chairs to go round, to say goodbye in loud voices and tell you with lowered voices what they wanted you to send them. In comparison to the big car and house (and possibly gun), the things they wanted were minor— handbags and shoes and perfumes and clothes. You said okay, no problem. Your uncle in America, who had put in the names of all your family members for the American visa lottery, said you could live with him until you got on your feet. He picked you up at the airport and bought you a big hot dog with yellow mustard that nauseated you. Introduction to America, he said with a laugh. He lived in a small white town in Maine, in a thirty-year-old house by a lake. He told you that the company he worked for had offered him a few thousand more than the average salary plus stock options because they were desperately trying to look diverse. They included a photo of him in every brochure, even those that had nothing to do with his unit. He laughed and said the job was good, was worth living in an all-white town even though his wife had to drive an hour to find a hair salon that did black hair. The trick was to understand America, to know that America was give-and-take. You gave up a lot but you gained a lot, too. He showed you how to apply for a cashier job in the gas station on Main Street and he enrolled you in a community college, where the girls had thick thighs and wore bright-red nail polish, and self-tanner that made them look orange. They asked where you learned to speak English and if you had real houses back in Africa and if you’d seen a car before you came to America. They gawped at your hair. Does it stand up or fall down when you take out the braids? They wanted to know. All of it stands up? How? Why? Do you use a comb? You smiled tightly when they asked those questions. Your uncle told you to expect it; a mixture of ignorance and arrogance, he called it. Then he told you how the neighbors said, a few months after he moved into his house, that the squirrels had started to disappear. They had heard that Africans ate all kinds of wild animals. You laughed with your uncle and you felt at home in his house; his wife called you nwanne, sister, and his two school-age children called you Aunty. They spoke Igbo and ate garri for lunch and it was like home. Until your uncle came into the cramped basement where you slept with old boxes and cartons and pulled you forcefully to him, squeezing your buttocks, moaning. He wasn’t really your uncle; he was actually a brother of your father’s sister’s husband, not related by blood. After you pushed him away, he sat on your bed—it was his house, after all—and smiled and said you were no longer a child at twenty-two. If you let him, he would do many things for you. Smart women did it all the time. How did you think those women back home in Lagos with well-paying jobs made it? Even women in New York City? You locked yourself in the bathroom until he went back upstairs, and the next morning, you left, walking the long windy road, smelling the baby fish in the lake. You saw him drive past—he had always dropped you off at Main Street—and he didn’t honk. You wondered what he would tell his wife, why you had left. And you remembered what he said, that America was give-and-take. You ended up in Connecticut, in another little town, because it was the last stop of the Greyhound bus you got on. You walked into the restaurant with the bright, clean awning and said you would work for two dollars less than the other waitresses. The manager, Juan, had inky-black hair and smiled to show a gold tooth. He said he had never had a Nigerian employee but all immigrants worked hard. He knew, he’d been there. He’d pay you a dollar less, but under the table; he didn’t like all the taxes they were making him pay. You could not afford to go to school, because now you paid rent for the tiny room with the stained carpet. Besides, the small Connecticut town didn’t have a community college and credits at the state university cost too much. So you went to the public library, you looked up course syllabi on school Web sites and read some of the books. Sometimes you sat on the lumpy mattress of your twin bed and thought about home—your aunts who hawked dried fish and plantains, cajoling customers to buy and then shouting insults when they didn’t; your uncles who drank local gin and crammed their families and lives into single rooms; your friends who had come out to say goodbye before you left, to rejoice because you won the American visa lottery, to confess their envy; your parents who often held hands as they walked to church on Sunday mornings, the neighbors from the next room laughing and teasing them; your father who brought back his boss’s old newspapers from work and made your brothers read them; your mother whose salary was barely enough to pay your brothers’ school fees at the secondary school where teachers gave an A when someone slipped them a brown envelope. You had never needed to pay for an A, never slipped a brown envelope to a teacher in secondary school. Still, you chose long brown envelopes to send half your month’s earnings to your parents at the address of the parastatal where your mother was a cleaner; you always used the dollar notes that Juan gave you because those were crisp, unlike the tips. Every month. You wrapped the money carefully in white paper but you didn’t write a letter. There was nothing to write about. In later weeks, though, you wanted to write because you had stories to tell. You wanted to write about the surprising openness of people in America, how eagerly they told you about their mother fighting cancer, about their sister-in-law’s pree mie, the kinds of things that one should hide or should reveal only to the family members who wished them well. You wanted to write about the way people left so much food on their plates and crumpled a few dollar bills down, as though it was an offering, expiation for the wasted food. You wanted to write about the child who started to cry and pull at her blond hair and push the menus off the table and instead of the parents making her shut up, they pleaded with her, a child of perhaps five years old, and then they all got up and left. You wanted to write about the rich people who wore shabby clothes and tattered sneakers, who looked like the night watchmen in front of the large compounds in Lagos. You wanted to write that rich Americans were thin and poor Americans were fat and that many did not have a big house and car; you still were not sure about the guns, though, because they might have them inside their pockets. . . . . . to be continued |
Re: . by fr3do(m): 9:59am On Aug 30, 2016 |
shsb b fbdvsdfv ds sas sc svf bffb bdfb dbdb ddd d d\s \dd gd hmj,kujmh fbfbb dvvd ddv dvd vdv dvdv dvs a\v gj,l ukdr tdhxdrfnhh gnxdg ndfb fndfgng nfgnm hmg j,gj ,j ,jh, hh iovh ghc n cg v xcv bx b vb v v n ,nm , k ,.j , b bc |
Re: . by menxer: 11:41am On Aug 30, 2016 |
Braden104: That's the same thing they (igbos) accuse the British of, were the Ibibios consulted when the Biafran map was drafted? Being part of eastern Nigeria as it were, is not tantamount to being part of Biafra. |
(1) (Reply)
How I Make Okra Soup / Who Is Alarina (Intermediary) In Yoruba Culture? / UMUJA: Check Out An Entire Village With NO MAN!
(Go Up)
Sections: politics (1) business autos (1) jobs (1) career education (1) romance computers phones travel sports fashion health religion celebs tv-movies music-radio literature webmasters programming techmarket Links: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) Nairaland - Copyright © 2005 - 2024 Oluwaseun Osewa. All rights reserved. See How To Advertise. 53 |