₦airaland Forum

Found this on a friend's blog (JEMMYMA'S Blog) It was so
good a read that I had to share, I changed nothing and
thumps up to the author.
IGBOS LOVE TO TRAVEL HOME. Inspired by the work of SAUL
BASS, ART GOODMAN, and DAVE NAGATA. Hitchcock typeface
by MATT TERICH . BLOG AT . THE
VERTIGO THEME .
The “long” expression below is an echo of how I feel about
roots and family values…. totally loved it and obtained the
permission to repost. Thanks Ugo. forgive any edits u might
notice..I tried to add a little of me
Maya Angelou said “There is no greater agony than bearing
an untold story inside you”.
Now to scratch that itch After two hours in traffic I drove
closer to the Niger Bridge *Ijeuru totally loves the Niger Bridge
too*, I took a few minutes to appreciate the welcoming sight
of the Niger bridge and magnificence of engineering. The
traffic was caused by an ongoing road construction at the
peak of the holidays. I wondered when our government would
get it right, but that wasn’t what i wanted to think about *at
least not today* . There was this excitement in me that
eroded the stress of the traffic, Obowo (my home town) on my
mind. I looked around at all the travelers. People in family
cars, in public transport, some sweating in non-air-
conditioned cars. ‘’ Ndi Igbo’’ heading home for Christmas. I
wondered why all the hustle to travel home under these
conditions, then I remembered what a lot of non- Igbos say.
‘’Igbos travel home every December to show off money, cars
and their acquisition over the year’’. Hmm…what nonsense,
what a lame thing to think. Why do Igbos travel home every
December? Igbos travel home every December to
reunite with family, it is a time to rebuild our family bond and
ties. We set dates for weddings and most celebrations during
the Christmas period because we want our families to be
there. We believe in family and even as well travelled as we
are, we always have it at the back of our minds that wherever
you go home is best. We break the kola- nut at every
occasion and share it to remind us that even as the kola-nut
has its various parts but is still one, so shall our unity be. I
got so lost in my thoughts, excitement and’ ‘’ Igboness’’ that I
was doing almost 170km/h. I slowed down, looked in the rear
view mirror and saw my nephew sleeping with a smile on his
face. He is probably dreaming of home I thought to myself. I
drove pass the sign that says ‘’welcome to Obowo’’ with a
sculpture of two hands holding the globe and I remembered
the movie ‘’Scarface’’ and Tony Montana’s ‘’the world is
yours’’ fountain. I said to myself ‘’Obowo is mine’’ HAHAHA!.
Getting close to the Nwokes’ compound, a childlike smile
played on my face. Some of my little cousins who had spotted
us ran after the car excited. A quick flash of all I expected ran
through my mind, seeing all my extended family from various
parts of the world, family weddings, family morning devotions,
cross-over family prayers, playing with family like a kid again.
As I got down from the car I could smell the ‘’aroma’’ of akpu
and suspected egusi soup would be present. I hugged my
lovely mum; my siblings who had gotten home earlier came
out, uncles, aunties, cousins, nephews nieces. There was so
much hugging and love as I could hear the sound of Flavour’s
Ada playing in the distance (I suspected someone was getting
married). That moment I knew there was no other place in the
world I rather be. IGBO KWENU! It was so easy to settle in at
home after all the love, hugs, akpu and oha soup (i was
wrong about the egusi suspicion). I lay in bed exhausted
trying to catch some sleep but I could hear some of my
relatives chatting and laughing down stairs in the compound. I
unsuccessfully tried to make out what they were talking about
as i drifted off to sleep, but i was almost certain i heard them
connect my name “Ugo” and the word “marriage”. Maybe my
mind was playing games on me.I woke up at about 6.00 am
thinking “oh my God i have to get up to prepare for work”.
When i realized where I was I remembered the song “there will
be joy in the morning”. I lay back and appreciated the
serenity; I could hear the sound of the birds, inhale the fresh
eastern harmattan air and hear the sound it made as it
caressed the leaves of the palm trees. It all harmonized into a
sweet lullaby and i slept off again. After the morning devotion
I stood at the balcony and noticed a squirrel jump from one
“ube” tree (Google it) to the other. It would pluck the “ube”,
bite on it, throw it away then jump on another tree and do the
same thing all over. I remembered what some of my cousins
would tell us as kids before running off to pick the “ube” to
eat. “This is the sweetest “ube” you can get, the ones tasted
by the squirrels, they are called “ube opa”.”You should try
them”.It was my brother Chinenye’s wedding that morning
and we were all getting ready, I heard someone shouting my
name. I came out and saw two of my cousins and age mates,
Ejike and Mishack laughing. “Otile”, one of them called me (I
cannot possibly explain in any civil manner what that means
here) “so you think you will come home and not come and
greet your age mates”? I laughed and went to meet my fellow
“otiles”, we hugged and gave one another playful jabs.You see
in Igbo land we appreciate, identify and fraternize with our age
mates, this is a culture that dates back to the creation of the
Igbo word itself, it helps you know what is expected of you at
any age and moving forward with your peers. In Obowo and
some very few parts of Imo state we take it a step further.
The “Iwa Akwa” celebration which literally means dorning of
clothes is celebrated every three (3) years. It is a time when a
certain age grade is recognized as “coming of age” or seen as
becoming men. On that day every male child that belongs to
the age grade will come out to the town hall with a very long
“akwa’’ (wrapper) tied to his waist and the remaining part of
the wrapper systematically placed on your head. A
‘’mma’’ (machete) tied round your waist and a whistle. Need I
say how glamorous and colourful it is?Every of these items
has its significance, the wrapper signifies that you have come
of age thereby covering your unclothedness. The machete signifies
‘’oru aka,’’(enterprise) that you are now man enough to fend
for and defend your own family. The whistle shows that you
are now qualified to come out when there is a call for
communal service, you can now call or be called upon. In the
earlier days a rifle can also be carried which shows defence
and integrity. On that worthy day we come out feeling like
Spartans, I almost shouted Aru! Aru! On my day…smiles. We
all converge to the town hall where all the chiefs, elders,
pastors and the whole town are present. The elders advice
and bless the freshmen and the pastors pray for them. After
that we all go to the market square where we dance through
a part designed with bamboo sticks with bands playing and
people spraying money on the celebrants. Small wonder we
love to travel home.My brother’s wedding was a huge success
and I got to see people I had not seen in ages. A particular
thing happened that day and it got me thinking about ‘’Ndi
Igbo’’ and our ways. My younger brother was born a left hand
person and in Igbo land and most parts of Nigeria it is
considered rude or improper to give or receive something with
the left hand. When he was about to cut the wedding cake
with his wife he brought forth his left then quickly switched to
his right hand. The Igbo people raise a child to do what is
right and proper. If you are born a left hander you will be
‘’corrected’’ to use your right and in most cases it becomes
an advantage because you become ambidextrous.In recent
times a lot of people don’t pay attention to raising their kids
in the name of civilisation. This to a large extent is breaking
the main fabric of the Igbo race. “Umu Igbo” can no longer
speak Igbo, it’s even more painful that you raise a child in
Nigeria and he can’t speak the mother tongue.I was born and
raised in Plateau State, I have lived most of my life there, had
most of my education there. My nanny as a child ‘’mama
Dung’’ even gave me a native Plateau name, she called me
‘’Jang”. Irrespective of all this, my parents ensured we spoke
the Igbo language and travelled home often to understand our
roots. Now I speak Igbo and Hausa fluently. Plateau State is
another place I call home, a wonderful people, peace loving,
easy going and accommodating. Whenever I travel to Plateau
State, as I ascend the plateau the greenery the rocks the cool
fresh air are a welcoming embrace for me. I grew up drinking
the water of Plateau and I wouldn’t have had it any other
way, to my Plateau people I say ‘’mafeng” (thank you).As
much as I love and appreciate my Igbo heritage, I am also a
Plateau man. The blend of the two has made me realise how
great we can be as a united country, I appreciate what unity
in diversity means. I hope my children grow up to appreciate
my ‘’Igbo-ness” my Plateau side and ultimately being
Nigerian.
-Ugo Nwoke Edimondu *curtains* *Applause

www.git9ja.com

Dedicated to those suffering from terror, especially those in the northern parts of Nigeria.


“You have a wonderful family Michael. Great kids and beautiful wife who I must say is a very good cook too.”
Laughter filled the room as they all took their seats. Michael took his wife in his arms as they sat across from their visitor and said, “I know Chibuzor,” smiling at his wife.
He looked at Chibuzor his friend saying “and thanks to you they still have me.” The room was quiet for a moment as their minds flashed back.
“Thank you again Mr. Chibuzor for saving my husband’s life, if not for you I would be a widow now,” Michael’s wife thanked Chibuzor.
“Nonsense, I am sure one way or the other he would have found a way out of the challenge.” “No,” Michael cuts in immediately, “that’s not true Chibuzor, I was lucky you were in that bush if not, that for sure would have been my last day on earth. You know I can never forget that day. I go to bed and still have nightmares about it. During the day I sit down and close my eyes only to open them with trembling hands and eyes filled with tears,” Michael was emotional as he spoke in such a way that showed he was remembering what had happened that fateful day.
With eyes still fixed on Chibuzor’s, he went on. “When I came to Kaduna a day earlier to meet Ibrahim, I never thought my life would change the way it did. I was there to discuss a new business proposal with Ibrahim concerning his farm produce. I planned to start buying from him for exportation to Lagos. I had gotten there with Wale, my friend who was supposed to partner with me and oversee things in Lagos. Ibrahim was an old friend of Wale’s and we thought we could rely on him for some good business. How wrong we were. I really didn’t know how they had met and I never got the chance to find out. The night we got there, Ibrahim welcomed us and helped us check into a small hotel. We were to run an inspection the following day and conclude our business before finally leaving.”
He paused for a moment, cleared his throat, and continued. “Everything seemed so normal at first. It was about 6a.m when we started hearing the chanting and shouting. We had no idea what was going on but we thought staying back at the hotel was the best idea; our very first mistake. About ninety minutes later there was uproar outside the gate of the hotel, so decided to peep and see for ourselves. We soon realized it was a riot. We had no idea who was rioting or why, but when we saw the fires and people running helter-skelter we knew we had to move. We quietly packed our small bags and ran out through the back of the building. The mob was close now and had blocked the entrance of the hotel demanding to see everyone inside the hotel. So we had to climb over the back fence. We ran as fast as our legs could carry us, even though we had no idea why we were running. Wale led me towards Ibrahim’s street, hoping he could help us.”
Michael closed his eyes and tried to control himself. “That was our biggest mistake. We saw Ibrahim running towards us and our hearts leaped for joy. “Thank God,” Wale exclaimed. I believed we were safe at last, but that feeling was only for a while as I noticed what Ibrahim was holding. I stopped in my track but Wale did not notice on time and even though I tried to call out to him it was too late. Ibrahim struck him down with a cutlass. I saw it. I saw it all as he kept slashing Wale with the machete over and over again like an animal, shouting words in a language I could not understand or wait to hear better. I ran as fast as I could.”
He stopped again and opened his eyes. “I left him. I saw that Ibrahim had been joined by other people and I just continued to run.” He took a deep breath and looked up at Chibuzor. “I noticed Ibrahim was running after me so I ran faster into the bush and just kept running without knowing where I was heading. I sensed he was still following me but I could do nothing order than to run. Gripped with fear I missed my steps and hit my legs on a tree root. I fell and could not get up, I could not move my legs and I feared that was my end. Then he caught up with me…..”
He stopped and took another breath, this time deeper. “That was the darkest moment of my life; the fear of dying in a forest in a strange land without ever seeing my family again was more than I could bear. I knew begging was no good for a man who had just killed his own friend in the name of faith or so I thought, but I begged him to spare my life. I knew I did not stand a chance but still I begged. Ibrahim looked at me and I could not believe that this was the same man that sat together with us last night over drinks? I could not believe this was the same man that expressed how happy he was that we brought the offer to him. I remembered how he looked at us like friends, I remembered how he smiled at us and it was then I realized that whatever it was he believed that led him to act like this was to him the right thing to do. I closed my eyes and waited for death.
“That was when you saved me. You came out of nowhere like an angel sent by God and you hit him on the head with a stick. He collapsed and we ran for our dear lives.”
He smiled as he turned to his wife whose eyes were now filled with tears although her face had a ray of joy and relief. “I can’t say if he died or just fell unconscious, and honestly, I did not care. I even wished he died. Chibuzor helped me and we ran deeper into the bush where we slept through the night. The following morning, the police and the army were everywhere as we came out to the road.”
He looked back at Chibuzor and said, “You took me to your friend’s house and cared for me; a total stranger. I was lucky that day, and it makes me glad that we are still friends today. I know you don’t like talking about that day but it’s been three months now and I still owe you my life.” Chibuzor smiled back but they could see he was uneasy. “What were you doing in that bush?” Michael’s wife, Uforma asked. “If you were not there that day and at that time, I would never have seen my joy again but I really want to know how you got there?”
Chibuzor gave a deep sigh and even though they knew he doesn’t like talking about it, but this time he had no choice. “Five years.” Chibuzor said. “That’s how long I have been living in Kaduna. I was posted there for my NYSC and the company I worked with retained me after service. I had been with them as a full time staff for four years. It was a one-man business with a small staff team but it paid really well, and although my people had always begged me to return home and settle down I did not. I could not for two reasons; the first being that I could not resign my job knowing how difficult it was to get a good job in this country, and the second was that I had met during my service year someone I wanted to marry and make the mother of my children. She was also retained and was staying with her uncle in Kaduna.
“I woke up late that morning for the first time since I lived in Kaduna. I have always been an early riser. It was 8:45a.m and I was getting ready for work in a rush. The radio was on and that was how I heard what was happening. I picked my phone and tried calling my colleagues as I hurried out of the house, they were not picking, and that was when I saw people running everywhere and there was a huge number of people chasing them. They were mostly men and carried various weapons; bows and arrows, sticks, machetes, you name it. I took to my heels and ran into the bush to hide. About fifteen minutes later I saw you running to where I was hiding and you know the rest.”
He glanced at the picture hanging on the wall. “The following day, I learnt they had attacked my office and killed all but one of my colleagues. They were slaughtered like animals.”
“Jesus!” exclaimed Uforma. Chibuzor did not even blink an eye. “When I got back home two days later, with thoughts that the place was safer, I realised that they had burnt down my house and car, everything was gone. That’s why I don’t talk about it, because I lost everything that day. And one week later it was like nothing had happened as the government did nothing; the media slowly went down on it as it was no longer news. I travelled back to my home state and re-settled in with my family. Now, I am searching for a job; that’s why I came to Benin to see you. I need your help to get back on my feet.”
“And your fiancée, did she travel back with you to the east?” asked Uforma. Chibuzor, who had now turned to look at them, shook his head. “I said I lost everything. I learnt it all started in her area. Her Uncle’s family including my fiance was all burnt alive while they slept early that morning.”
“Oh my God!” Uforma cried, running from the room.
“You never told me any of this? I am so sorry for your loss my friend,” Michael said. “God knows best and knows why He allows these things to happen. You were lucky you over-slept that day, and I am also lucky for that same reason.”
Chibuzor looked back at the frame on the wall. It was a picture of Christ. “For the first time in five years I woke up late and it had to be on that day. No, Michael, luck does not have anything to do with this one. You know, sometimes I wish I had actually woken up earlier that day. sometimes.”

[right][/right]An extract from my new book 'World Upside Down' by AdrianPastol.
visit my blog for more www.git9ja.com thanks.