Advance towards the Niger …Childhood Memoir of the Nigerian civil war
By Niyi Egbe
The nation had barely gained its independence when I and my post-independence generation had the first breathe and feel of living in this side of the world. Of course we were born without choice as Nigerians; quite unprepared for the good, the bad and the ugly that we’ve seen. All too soon, as we were barely deciphering life and living here, mid-1967, the nation was thrown into an unreasoning war that snuffed out life from millions of our citizens. My commune, Igarra, located afoot the Kukuruku hills, Akoko Edo Local Government Area of then Mid-Western State was quite far from the war front. The distance however did not prevent us from having some impact and appreciation of the state of the war.
For as much as my six year old mind could fathom, there was no outright battle in the town. This development, some of our people attributed to the benevolence of our gods which resided in the hills. Nevertheless, we kept hearing disturbing and earth shaking blasts from bombs detonated from afar. My guess now is that those bombs were possibly detonated by the Federal soldiers as they advanced from the north through Okene unto Edo north through neighbouring towns and village like Ibillo, Uneme Nekhua and Aiyegunle.
The first feel of the state of war was the occupation by some Igbos who we learnt had formed a vanguard and affiliate of the Biafran Army. They caused quite a stir in the town literally occasioning a pandemonium. Our people were frenzied, panicky over the possibility of the town becoming a theatre of war, should there be a collision with the Federal troop that was expected to arrive. The prospect of Federal soldiers levelling the town was worrisome. There was also livid fear among our young men, of incurring the wrath of Igbos for sabotaging their efforts or exposing them unto the would-be Federal troop The Igbos kept rallying around themselves, enlisting in droves unto the Biafran Army which they had hoped would not only liberate them but would as well win them freedom from their persecutors and aggressors.
The irreconcilable differences between the feuding dramatis personae that culminated in the war between brothers shocked our little town. We had always been a humble, hardworking and accommodating farming community. Igbos were engrained in our social setting and were very much at home in our peaceful community. I grew up seeing Igbos as part of our life. They attended our schools and imported their traditional industry and exploitation of trade opportunities to survive They lived among us - fellow Nigerians without qualms, even where tongues differed. They were so acculturated that most of them spoke our language. Some of their young men requested the hands of our young damsels in marriage. Ditto, some of our adventurous young men who had some of their maidens for fling or outright marriage. What conflict would suddenly now have these people become enemies of the state? Couldn’t there have been jaw-jawing for as long as it could request instead of embarking on an unreasoning war of attrition?
My maternal home was a worthy representation of the trauma visited on our community by the war. I learnt that my maternal grandfather Pa Asemah, who had departed to the great beyond before I was born, was an adventurous and detribalised mind. A number of Igbos resided in his compound and the immediate environ, selling assorted haberdasheries, provisions and foodstuff. He was also attracted to some migrant Hausas who introduced him to Islam. Although, barely a handful of the community embraced Islam, I am told that he went on to become a Muslim, a faith that none of his wives and children shared. More frustrating, when some Christian evangelists later came to introduce Christ, virtually all his household abandoned him to his faith. Although my late mum, Deaconess Sarah Egbe tried as practically as possible assisting him in carrying his prayer mat and kettle to the mosque, she teamed up with my grandma and her siblings in fully embracing the Christian faith.
My maternal uncle, Chief Emmanuel Asemah was a politician who before the war was member of the then Federal House in Lagos. He sustained the accommodation of Igbos in the compound. We grew up with Igbo children. His first wife, though an Igarra native was called by an Igbo name, Ekego. She had grown up in the east and spoke fluent Igbo. If these people had been part and parcel of our community, how could they become enemies overnight?
That Uncle Emmanuel Asemah had to accommodate or fraternise with Igbos was to imply much trouble for us. When the Federal troop later arrived and temporarily occupied our little town, they tactically ascertained that there were no Igbos in hiding, neither saboteurs that protected them. Their arrival was envisaged by Igbos who fled the town. Nevertheless, there was soon to be a concocted story filtering to commanders of Federal soldiers that my uncle was keeping some Igbo soldiers in hiding, deemed a great disloyalty to the nation. Soon, we were confronted by our worst expectation. He was arrested and whisked away. There was much hubbub and livid fear over his would-be fate. Would he end up being shot as a saboteur? I was too young to understand what was going on, but then, I remember that my mother was in tears and trepidation for the life of her immediate elder brother. All she could do was just pray. Fortunately, my uncle was later released
The presence of Igbos in my maternal home was not an isolated incident. A brother of mine who lived in another part of the town recently recalled some Igbos like Uwa, Nwakego and Ochuba who were his playmates and neighbours I also recall that before the war broke out in 1967, some Igbo lads were mates of my elder ones in our schools. Interestingly, some of such relationships have endured till date- over four decades after the war.
For my late dad, Chief Okomayin James Egbe, experience with the Igbos was less pleasant. He was involved in trade in fabrics far before the war and according to him got duped at Onitsha. Being a very honest man, the experience left rather sad memories. He was thus quite hesitant in dealing with Igbos. Although he had an open mind about where his sons could take wives, he would rather have his sons avoid the east. His wishes may have unwittingly been gratified during his lifetime, but not thereafter - one of his children and grandchildren have long ridden the tides of the River Niger to drink the palm wine from Igbo damsels amidst much funfair.
Federal soldiers spent weeks in our hometown. Fortunately, somewhat virtually all the Igbo residents had escaped and embarked on a massive exodus back home across the Niger. However, the Federal soldiers didn’t take things for granted. They ransacked Igarra homes. They disturbed the peace of some families, claiming having tip-off that they were hiding “enemies of the state”. They combed everywhere including our earthen mud roof ceilings just to be sure that “saboteurs and enemies” were not unto some game. They hardly met victims. Rather, on those rooftops were heaps of yams often stored by our people against lean seasons. Occasionally, the searches met wares of Igbos who had long escaped. There were also cases of remnant Igbos that remained in the town and neighbouring villages. Usually, they would get winds of impending search and pronto, would flee to the crannies of the Kukurukus or run deep unto the farmlands of Igarra and neigbouring communities of Emwan, Utuo, Aiyetoro or Akuku. Nonetheless, there were rumours that some Igbos carelessly visited the markets for necessary supplies and got caught by Federal troops.
There were two other incidents about the war that deeply troubled my paternal home. First was a confrontation between my elder sister and Federal soldiers. One evening, she was coming home from choir rehearsals. Some errant soldiers after their day’s workout were looking for damsels to ravage They harassed my sister and her company. The soldiers met a stiff rebuff from the young ladies who were barely in their late teens. Words got to my mum that my sister was forefront in the conflict. Her insensitivity angered my mum who had expected her to have understood that soldiers especially at war times easily go amuck and could wreak much havoc. Mum was angry, disappointed that rather than fleeing from trouble my sister stupidly prepared for fisticuffs! We were lucky that the young recruits were not in zenith of their elements.
As if these were not enough worries for our home, words arrived that one of my elder brothers, had been conscripted into the Nigerian Army in Ibadan. Some members of the Igarra community in Ibadan, that legendary and expansive city sent tales that my brother had been undergoing training among the fresh recruits. To our chagrin, we learnt that he was already donning the famed special soldier haircut that would have him easily picked up should he attempt deserting! My mum was nerve-wrecked and highly distressed, scared stiff for the life of her often troublesome and adventurous son. How on earth did he predispose himself to being recruited? She almost slipped unto hypertension, however being a Christian she prayed hard, having faith that her son would find a way of escape out of the military camp, even if it would request the camel passing through the eye of the needle.
Graciously, as usual, God answered her prayers. My brother was helped out of the camp, tucked in hiding for some days his hair shaven and left to regrow out of the military style. You couldn’t imagine the joy that the news of the turn of events implied to our home. My mother’s and our gain was regret to my often audacious brother. Till date he points out many Generals, some of them now in retirement who were his co- recruits. Funny man, he fails to factor in the possibility of having to have lost his life in the battle field.
The Igarra community did much to assist their neighbouring Igbos that had suddenly become enemies of the state. We simply guided them through escape routes either through the Kukuruku hills or farm routes that would lead them unto safety. The larger proportion of the Igbos had winds of the advancement of the Federal troops and departed in droves, heavily laden with as much of their goods as possible. A lot couldn’t help but leave some of their wares with their landlords and co-tenants. Most of these properties, the Igbos were to their astonishment; recover after the war in 1970.
The Igarra community was uncomfortable with the presence of soldiers in the town. Apart from aversion to bloodshed, there was also careless lifestyle of the soldiers. They usually got so drunk that sometimes fights broke out among them. They also owed some of the operators of the drinking joints. Far more worrying was the constant harassment of our young ladies by soldiers who wanted to have them for fun.
Fortunately, the occupation of the Federal troops did not prolong - probably a month. Igarra was merely a passage towards the Niger which was about 100 kilometres away. The troop was migrating towards Auchi, a relatively larger commune - 30 minutes’ drive away. Auchi must have been strategic in the war plans as till date the NASEME Nichoho Barracks was built there.
One morning during the occupation, news went round that hordes of soldiers were marching towards our town. The news occasioned commotion. As was customary during the war, our people scampered to safety. Mothers were frenzied and frazzled over the safety of their kids most of whom were unto the pastime of their age - playing games. Next they worried and feared for their husbands who had earlier gone to the farms oblivious of the possibility of having our lean peace further disrupted. Most of the men had left their homes without fear. They couldn’t come to terms with the possibility of losing their precious families. A lot of them braved the odds; woke the men in them and made for the town to rescue their wives and children.
Amidst the upheaval, words soon filtered that the advancing troop was friendly. We were assured that we would be safe if only we heeded instructions to show solidarity with the troop by chanting “One Nigeria”. We gladly complied with this and soon, the entire town lined the Momodu Ajayi Road, the major link way between Igarra and neighbouring communities chanting as instructed.
What I saw as a kid was exciting for my age. There were droves of soldiers, in their hundreds marching through the town. First were foot soldiers menacingly wielding machine guns, bazookas, bayonets, name it! Hordes had bullets crisscrossing their chests and backs. They pounded our road with gusto, expending energies that from hindsight I would have expected them to have conserved for battle. If their mission was to sound a warning, they reasonably achieved it as the thuds of their boots sent cold shivers down our spines.
The march by the infantry seemed endless; even then, the drama wasn’t over. Soon, several Armoured tanks and Armoured Personnel Carriers followed, the soldiers riding them were serious looking, their eyes red, alert and dreadful. They were unto the exercise and advance towards the Niger hundreds kilometres away. Our brief was simply to keep affirming our commitment to the task of keeping the nation together, yet we were getting tired of the size of the troop. The exercise must have lasted about six hours before the last soldier made the relieving advance towards Auchi. Good for us, they seemed to have taken with them the earlier nauseating soldiers leaving Igarra in peace till the end of the war.
The vacation of the soldiers over, our people reverted to our native quite agrarian living and inter-tribal trade. Nights offered opportunities for some of the few enlightened citizens to give us often unverified gist about happenings in the warfronts across the Niger. Who would question the one eyed man in the land of the blind.
The war ended January 1970 before my teens. Later life has had me better informed about the circumstances that led to that unfortunate war. Till date I have never seen such a massive deployment of troops. It’s really sad, realising that such deployment of armoury on either side was necessitated by ego trip and rivalry between soldiers and justifiable feelings by the Igbos that they were endangered in the Nigerian project. Of course I sympathise with them. However, I still can’t comprehend the need for either side to have had to settle scores by such massive deployment of ammunition against the flesh and bones – spilling the precious blood of one’s kith and kin!
That the Nigerian war occurred would ever bleed my soul, more so with the often insensitive conduct of our political leaders, sustained injustice, socio-economic imbalances and unhealthy ethnic dichotomy that persist in our national life. This sore disposition of our leaders and parlous state of the nation despite that painful war is really sad. One can only pray that the souls of the precious lives felled on either side during that unnecessary and painful war would ever rest in perfect peace.
Niyi Egbe, an Agro-Nutritionist and Media practitioner based in Lagos, Nigeria can be reached via Email: niyiegbe@yahoo.com

A good read!

pls let's forget about this war cos it only makes me bitter

Dude what is the moral lesson please?

spartoo:
pls let's forget about this war cos it only makes me bitter

Don't be a coward. you dont forget your history rather you learn frim it

Alfred200825:
Dude what is the moral lesson please?

Good question.

warrior01:
Don't be a coward. you dont forget your history rather you learn frim it

bro It's not about cowardice. it's about the suffering

Advance towards the Niger …Childhood Memoir of the Nigerian civil war
By Niyi Egbe
The nation had barely gained its independence when I and my post-independence generation had the first breathe and feel of living in this side of the world. Of course we were born without choice as Nigerians; quite unprepared for the good, the bad and the ugly that we’ve seen. All too soon, as we were barely deciphering life and living here, mid-1967, the nation was thrown into an unreasoning war that snuffed out life from millions of our citizens. My commune, Igarra, located afoot the Kukuruku hills, Akoko Edo Local Government Area of then Mid-Western State was quite far from the war front. The distance however did not prevent us from having some impact and appreciation of the state of the war.
For as much as my six year old mind could fathom, there was no outright battle in the town. This development, some of our people attributed to the benevolence of our gods which resided in the hills. Nevertheless, we kept hearing disturbing and earth shaking blasts from bombs detonated from afar. My guess now is that those bombs were possibly detonated by the Federal soldiers as they advanced from the north through Okene unto Edo north through neighbouring towns and village like Ibillo, Uneme Nekhua and Aiyegunle.
The first feel of the state of war was the occupation by some Igbos who we learnt had formed a vanguard and affiliate of the Biafran Army. They caused quite a stir in the town literally occasioning a pandemonium. Our people were frenzied, panicky over the possibility of the town becoming a theatre of war, should there be a collision with the Federal troop that was expected to arrive. The prospect of Federal soldiers levelling the town was worrisome. There was also livid fear among our young men, of incurring the wrath of Igbos for sabotaging their efforts or exposing them unto the would-be Federal troop The Igbos kept rallying around themselves, enlisting in droves unto the Biafran Army which they had hoped would not only liberate them but would as well win them freedom from their persecutors and aggressors.
The irreconcilable differences between the feuding dramatis personae that culminated in the war between brothers shocked our little town. We had always been a humble, hardworking and accommodating farming community. Igbos were engrained in our social setting and were very much at home in our peaceful community. I grew up seeing Igbos as part of our life. They attended our schools and imported their traditional industry and exploitation of trade opportunities to survive They lived among us - fellow Nigerians without qualms, even where tongues differed. They were so acculturated that most of them spoke our language. Some of their young men requested the hands of our young damsels in marriage. Ditto, some of our adventurous young men who had some of their maidens for fling or outright marriage. What conflict would suddenly now have these people become enemies of the state? Couldn’t there have been jaw-jawing for as long as it could request instead of embarking on an unreasoning war of attrition?
My maternal home was a worthy representation of the trauma visited on our community by the war. I learnt that my maternal grandfather Pa Asemah, who had departed to the great beyond before I was born, was an adventurous and detribalised mind. A number of Igbos resided in his compound and the immediate environ, selling assorted haberdasheries, provisions and foodstuff. He was also attracted to some migrant Hausas who introduced him to Islam. Although, barely a handful of the community embraced Islam, I am told that he went on to become a Muslim, a faith that none of his wives and children shared. More frustrating, when some Christian evangelists later came to introduce Christ, virtually all his household abandoned him to his faith. Although my late mum, Deaconess Sarah Egbe tried as practically as possible assisting him in carrying his prayer mat and kettle to the mosque, she teamed up with my grandma and her siblings in fully embracing the Christian faith.
My maternal uncle, Chief Emmanuel Asemah was a politician who before the war was member of the then Federal House in Lagos. He sustained the accommodation of Igbos in the compound. We grew up with Igbo children. His first wife, though an Igarra native was called by an Igbo name, Ekego. She had grown up in the east and spoke fluent Igbo. If these people had been part and parcel of our community, how could they become enemies overnight?
That Uncle Emmanuel Asemah had to accommodate or fraternise with Igbos was to imply much trouble for us. When the Federal troop later arrived and temporarily occupied our little town, they tactically ascertained that there were no Igbos in hiding, neither saboteurs that protected them. Their arrival was envisaged by Igbos who fled the town. Nevertheless, there was soon to be a concocted story filtering to commanders of Federal soldiers that my uncle was keeping some Igbo soldiers in hiding, deemed a great disloyalty to the nation. Soon, we were confronted by our worst expectation. He was arrested and whisked away. There was much hubbub and livid fear over his would-be fate. Would he end up being shot as a saboteur? I was too young to understand what was going on, but then, I remember that my mother was in tears and trepidation for the life of her immediate elder brother. All she could do was just pray. Fortunately, my uncle was later released
The presence of Igbos in my maternal home was not an isolated incident. A brother of mine who lived in another part of the town recently recalled some Igbos like Uwa, Nwakego and Ochuba who were his playmates and neighbours I also recall that before the war broke out in 1967, some Igbo lads were mates of my elder ones in our schools. Interestingly, some of such relationships have endured till date- over four decades after the war.
For my late dad, Chief Okomayin James Egbe, experience with the Igbos was less pleasant. He was involved in trade in fabrics far before the war and according to him got duped at Onitsha. Being a very honest man, the experience left rather sad memories. He was thus quite hesitant in dealing with Igbos. Although he had an open mind about where his sons could take wives, he would rather have his sons avoid the east. His wishes may have unwittingly been gratified during his lifetime, but not thereafter - one of his children and grandchildren have long ridden the tides of the River Niger to drink the palm wine from Igbo damsels amidst much funfair.
Federal soldiers spent weeks in our hometown. Fortunately, somewhat virtually all the Igbo residents had escaped and embarked on a massive exodus back home across the Niger. However, the Federal soldiers didn’t take things for granted. They ransacked Igarra homes. They disturbed the peace of some families, claiming having tip-off that they were hiding “enemies of the state”. They combed everywhere including our earthen mud roof ceilings just to be sure that “saboteurs and enemies” were not unto some game. They hardly met victims. Rather, on those rooftops were heaps of yams often stored by our people against lean seasons. Occasionally, the searches met wares of Igbos who had long escaped. There were also cases of remnant Igbos that remained in the town and neighbouring villages. Usually, they would get winds of impending search and pronto, would flee to the crannies of the Kukurukus or run deep unto the farmlands of Igarra and neigbouring communities of Emwan, Utuo, Aiyetoro or Akuku. Nonetheless, there were rumours that some Igbos carelessly visited the markets for necessary supplies and got caught by Federal troops.
There were two other incidents about the war that deeply troubled my paternal home. First was a confrontation between my elder sister and Federal soldiers. One evening, she was coming home from choir rehearsals. Some errant soldiers after their day’s workout were looking for damsels to ravage They harassed my sister and her company. The soldiers met a stiff rebuff from the young ladies who were barely in their late teens. Words got to my mum that my sister was forefront in the conflict. Her insensitivity angered my mum who had expected her to have understood that soldiers especially at war times easily go amuck and could wreak much havoc. Mum was angry, disappointed that rather than fleeing from trouble my sister stupidly prepared for fisticuffs! We were lucky that the young recruits were not in zenith of their elements.
As if these were not enough worries for our home, words arrived that one of my elder brothers, had been conscripted into the Nigerian Army in Ibadan. Some members of the Igarra community in Ibadan, that legendary and expansive city sent tales that my brother had been undergoing training among the fresh recruits. To our chagrin, we learnt that he was already donning the famed special soldier haircut that would have him easily picked up should he attempt deserting! My mum was nerve-wrecked and highly distressed, scared stiff for the life of her often troublesome and adventurous son. How on earth did he predispose himself to being recruited? She almost slipped unto hypertension, however being a Christian she prayed hard, having faith that her son would find a way of escape out of the military camp, even if it would request the camel passing through the eye of the needle.
Graciously, as usual, God answered her prayers. My brother was helped out of the camp, tucked in hiding for some days his hair shaven and left to regrow out of the military style. You couldn’t imagine the joy that the news of the turn of events implied to our home. My mother’s and our gain was regret to my often audacious brother. Till date he points out many Generals, some of them now in retirement who were his co- recruits. Funny man, he fails to factor in the possibility of having to have lost his life in the battle field.
The Igarra community did much to assist their neighbouring Igbos that had suddenly become enemies of the state. We simply guided them through escape routes either through the Kukuruku hills or farm routes that would lead them unto safety. The larger proportion of the Igbos had winds of the advancement of the Federal troops and departed in droves, heavily laden with as much of their goods as possible. A lot couldn’t help but leave some of their wares with their landlords and co-tenants. Most of these properties, the Igbos were to their astonishment; recover after the war in 1970.
The Igarra community was uncomfortable with the presence of soldiers in the town. Apart from aversion to bloodshed, there was also careless lifestyle of the soldiers. They usually got so drunk that sometimes fights broke out among them. They also owed some of the operators of the drinking joints. Far more worrying was the constant harassment of our young ladies by soldiers who wanted to have them for fun.
Fortunately, the occupation of the Federal troops did not prolong - probably a month. Igarra was merely a passage towards the Niger which was about 100 kilometres away. The troop was migrating towards Auchi, a relatively larger commune - 30 minutes’ drive away. Auchi must have been strategic in the war plans as till date the NASEME Nichoho Barracks was built there.
One morning during the occupation, news went round that hordes of soldiers were marching towards our town. The news occasioned commotion. As was customary during the war, our people scampered to safety. Mothers were frenzied and frazzled over the safety of their kids most of whom were unto the pastime of their age - playing games. Next they worried and feared for their husbands who had earlier gone to the farms oblivious of the possibility of having our lean peace further disrupted. Most of the men had left their homes without fear. They couldn’t come to terms with the possibility of losing their precious families. A lot of them braved the odds; woke the men in them and made for the town to rescue their wives and children.
Amidst the upheaval, words soon filtered that the advancing troop was friendly. We were assured that we would be safe if only we heeded instructions to show solidarity with the troop by chanting “One Nigeria”. We gladly complied with this and soon, the entire town lined the Momodu Ajayi Road, the major link way between Igarra and neighbouring communities chanting as instructed.
What I saw as a kid was exciting for my age. There were droves of soldiers, in their hundreds marching through the town. First were foot soldiers menacingly wielding machine guns, bazookas, bayonets, name it! Hordes had bullets crisscrossing their chests and backs. They pounded our road with gusto, expending energies that from hindsight I would have expected them to have conserved for battle. If their mission was to sound a warning, they reasonably achieved it as the thuds of their boots sent cold shivers down our spines.
The march by the infantry seemed endless; even then, the drama wasn’t over. Soon, several Armoured tanks and Armoured Personnel Carriers followed, the soldiers riding them were serious looking, their eyes red, alert and dreadful. They were unto the exercise and advance towards the Niger hundreds kilometres away. Our brief was simply to keep affirming our commitment to the task of keeping the nation together, yet we were getting tired of the size of the troop. The exercise must have lasted about six hours before the last soldier made the relieving advance towards Auchi. Good for us, they seemed to have taken with them the earlier nauseating soldiers leaving Igarra in peace till the end of the war.
The vacation of the soldiers over, our people reverted to our native quite agrarian living and inter-tribal trade. Nights offered opportunities for some of the few enlightened citizens to give us often unverified gist about happenings in the warfronts across the Niger. Who would question the one eyed man in the land of the blind.
The war ended January 1970 before my teens. Later life has had me better informed about the circumstances that led to that unfortunate war. Till date I have never seen such a massive deployment of troops. It’s really sad, realising that such deployment of armoury on either side was necessitated by ego trip and rivalry between soldiers and justifiable feelings by the Igbos that they were endangered in the Nigerian project. Of course I sympathise with them. However, I still can’t comprehend the need for either side to have had to settle scores by such massive deployment of ammunition against the flesh and bones – spilling the precious blood of one’s kith and kin!
That the Nigerian war occurred would ever bleed my soul, more so with the often insensitive conduct of our political leaders, sustained injustice, socio-economic imbalances and unhealthy ethnic dichotomy that persist in our national life. This sore disposition of our leaders and parlous state of the nation despite that painful war is really sad. One can only pray that the souls of the precious lives felled on either side during that unnecessary and painful war would ever rest in perfect peace.
Niyi Egbe, an Agro-Nutritionist and Media practitioner based in Lagos, Nigeria can be reached via Email: niyiegbe@yahoo.com

The OP posted this back in 2014. Fast forward 2021 and the sounds of the drums of war have not abated but have become more heightened. We must pray harder than ever. We will pull through but we must pray through.