Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Writing the
EZEKWEM
FALOLA &
Edited by
The Nigeria-Biafra War lasted from 6 July 1966 to 15 January 1970, during
which time the postcolonial Nigerian state fought to bring the Eastern
Nigeria-
region, which had seceded as the State or Republic of Biafra, back into the
newly independent but ethnically and ideologically divided nation. This
volume examines the trends and methodologies in the civil war writings,
both fictional and non-fictional, and is the first to analyse in detail the
War
Half of a Yellow Sun was preceded by works by Ken Saro-Wiwa, Elechi
Amadi, Kole Omotoso, Wole Soyinka, Flora Nwapa, Buchi Emecheta, Edited by
Chukwuemeka Ike and Chris Abani, and strongly convey the horrific TOYIN FALOLA &
human cost of the war on individuals and their communities. The non- OGECHUKWU EZEKWEM
fictional accounts, including Chinua Achebe’s last work, There Was a
Country, are biographies, personal accounts and essays on the causes and
course of the war, its humanitarian crises, and the collaboration of foreign
nations. The contributors examine writers’ and protagonists’ use of
contemporary published texts as a means of continued resistance and
justification of the war, the problems of objectivity encountered in memoirs
and how authors’ backgrounds and sources determine the kinds of biases
that influenced their interpretations, including the gendered divisions in
Nigeria-Biafra War scholarship and sources. By initiating a dialogue on the
civil war literature, this volume engages in a much-needed discourse on the
problems confronting a culturally diverse post-war Nigeria.
Toyin Falola is the Jacob and Frances Sanger Mossiker Chair in the
Humanities and University Distinguished Teaching Professor at the
University of Texas at Austin; Ogechukwu Ezekwem is a PhD student in
the Department of History, University of Texas at Austin.
Cover image: Niger Delta Militancy II. Mixed Media. 2011 (24"x30") by dele jegede
(reproduced by kind permission of the artist © dele jegede)
JAMES CURREY
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Writing the
Nigeria-Biafra War
and of
© Contributors 2016
CRITICAL DEBATES ON
Part II THE NIGERIAN CRISIS
Literary Separatism
8 Ethnic Balkanization in Nigeria-Biafra War Narratives
AKACHI ODOEMENE 166
‘War is War’
11 Recreating the Dreams and Nightmares of the Nigeria-Biafra
War through the Eyes of Ken Saro-Wiwa’s Sozaboy
CYRIL OBI 230
LOCATING GENDER IN
Part IV NIGERIA-BIAFRA WAR LITERATURE
Falola, Toyin is the Jacob and Frances Sanger Mossiker Chair in the
Humanities and University Distinguished Teaching Professor at the Uni-
versity of Texas at Austin. Author and editor of over a hundred books, he
has honorary doctorates from Monmouth University, Lincoln University,
City University of New York, Staten Island, Lead City University, Adekunle
Ajasin University, and Tai Solarin University of Education. His memoir,
Counting the Tiger’s Teeth (University of Michigan Press, 2014) recounts
the story of his life as a teenager.
(BA First Class Honours in English) and New York University (MA, PhD).
He has taught at the University of Ibadan and the Obafemi Awolowo
University, Ile-Ife, both in Nigeria, and at Oberlin College and Cornell
University in the United States. He has lectured widely in Africa, Europe,
North America, and Asia. He has also served as an External Examiner
in several African, European, Canadian, Caribbean, and South Asian
universities. Professor Jeyifo has published many books, monographs, and
essays on Anglophone African and Caribbean writings, drama, Marxist,
and postcolonial literary and cultural studies. Wole Soyinka: Politics, Poet-
ics, and Postcolonialism (Cambridge University Press, 2004), won one of
the American Library Association’s Outstanding Academic Texts awards
for 2005. The two-volume Oxford Encyclopedia of African Thought, co-
edited with Professor Abiola Irele, was published in 2010. Professor Jeyifo
is presently completing a monograph on ‘Nollywood’, the national video
film industry of Nigeria, and editing some documentary shorts that he
has written and produced in the last few years.
Njoku, Raphael Chijioke graduated with a first class honours from the
University of Nigeria Nsukka and was Nigeria’s sixteenth Rhodes Scholar-
elect in 1992. He received his PhD in African history from Dalhousie Uni-
versity Canada in 2003. Previously, he had earned a doctorate in Political
Science from Vrije University, Belgium in 2001. His research specialty is
African history, politics, and culture, including the intersection between
literature and African studies. He has also been working on themes related
to international studies since 1997. Njoku is the author of Culture and
Customs of Morocco (Greenwood, 2005), African Cultural Values: Igbo Politi-
cal Leadership in Colonial Nigeria 1900–1966 (Routledge 2006), and The
History of Somalia (Greenwood, 2013); co-editor with Chima J. Korieh
of Missions, States, and European Expansion in Africa (Taylor & Francis,
2007) and African history (2010); with Toyin Falola of War and Peace in
Africa (Carolina Academic Press, 2010); and with Hakeem Ibikunle Tijani
of Africa and the Wider World (2010). He has also authored 35 scholarly
articles in international journals and edited volumes. Some of his awards
include: Eleanor Young Love Award for Distinguished Scholarship (2006),
Distinguished Research Award in the Category of Social Sciences (2009),
Indiana University Library Residency Award (2009), Victor Olurunsola
Endowed Research Award (2007), and the Schomburg Center award for
Research in Black Studies (2006–07). Njoku is currently the Director of
International Studies and Chair of the Department of Languages and
Literature at Idaho.
Okwu, Austine (Augustine) was, during the last few years of the British
Colonial Administration in Nigeria, an Assistant Divisional Officer. He
was a senior diplomat in the Nigerian Foreign Service, serving in Nigerian
High Commissions in London, Accra, and Ghana; in Dar es Salaam, Tan-
zania as Nigeria’s Acting High Commissioner and Nigeria’s first diplomat
in East and Central Africa; and at the Embassy Washington DC. During
the Nigeria-Biafra War, he was Biafra’s pioneer Special Representative
in the United Kingdom, Ambassador in Dar es Salaam, and Special
Representative in East and Central Africa, achieving the epic distinction
of securing two of the four recognitions for Biafra by African nations.
Now he is an emeritus college administrator/professor at Bloomfield
College New Jersey; Naugatuck Valley Community College, Waterbury,
Connecticut; and State University of New York, Oswego. He has a PhD
in History from the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences, Columbia
University, MA from Southern Connecticut State University, New Haven
and BA (Durham) from Fourah Bay College Freetown, Sierra Leone. He
is published in learned journals both in Europe and the United States and
is the author of The Igbo Culture and the Christian Missions 1857–1957
(University Press of America, 2009), and In Truth For Justice And Honor:
A Memoir of a Nigerian-Biafran Ambassador (Sungai, 2011).
in the USA and several locations in Europe between 2001 and 2015
funded by the Fulbright Program, AvH (Germany), A.G. Leventis Foun-
dation, and others. Her researches revolve around women in conflict
situations, men and masculinities and their relation to women, African
historiography and emerging Muslim communities among the different
ethnic groups of Eastern Nigeria. Her publications include Women and
Conflict in the Nigerian Civil War (Africa World Press, 2007) and Dawn for
Islam in Eastern Nigeria: A History of the Arrival of Islam in Igboland (Klaus
Schwarz, 2011). Among her edited works are: Masculinities in Contempo-
rary Africa (CODESRIA, 2008), New Face of Islam in Eastern Nigeria and the
Lake Chad Basin: Essays in Honour of Simon Ottenberg (Aboki, 2012), and
as chief editor with Pat Uche Okpoko and Edlyne Anugwom, Perspectives
on Leadership in Africa (Afro-Orbis, 2010). Further details on her publica-
tions, projects and awards are available at www.egodiuchendu.com.
AG Action Group
NCNC National Council of Nigerian Citizens
NNA Nigerian National Alliance
NNDP Nigerian National Democratic Party
NPC Northern People’s Congress
OAU Organization of African Unity
RAL Research in African Literatures
UPGA United Progressive Grand Alliance
1900 – The governance of Nigeria passes from the Royal Niger Com-
pany to the British Crown
1906 – (1 May) – Amalgamation of the Lagos Colony with the South-
ern Nigeria Protectorate
1908 – German-owned Nigerian Bitumen Company begins search for
petroleum off the coast
1912 – The establishment of indirect rule by Lord Frederick Lugard,
Governor of Northern Nigeria
1914 – (January 1) – The amalgamation of Northern and Southern
Nigeria under the leadership of a governor-general, Lord Fred-
erick Lugard
1923 – Clifford Constitution is created
Nigerian National Democratic Party (NNDP) is formed by Her-
bert Macaulay
1928 – (April) – Britain begins direct taxation in Nigeria
1929 – (November) – The Women’s War, a widespread revolt against
taxation, begins
1931 – The Nigeria Union of Teachers (NUT) is founded
1936 – Nigeria Youth Movement (NYM) is created
1937 – Shell D’Arcy Petroleum Development Company of Nigeria (later
Shell-BP) granted rights to explore petroleum in the country
1940 – Northern People’s Congress (NPC) was organized
1944 – Nnamdi Azikiwe “Zik” founds the National Council of Nigeria
and Cameroun (NCNC)
1945 – A countrywide general strike as a result of government’s refusal
to review its African workers’ welfare package
First Ten-Year Plan for economic development adopted
1946 – Nigeria experiences growing nationalist sentiments
Promulgation of Richards’ Constitution
Richards’ Constitution splits the Southern Region into Eastern
Region and Western Region
An Intellectual History?
The central premise of intellectual history is that ideas do not exist in
isolation but are shaped by the lives and outlooks of the people who
created them as well as the cultural, social, political, and historical con-
texts in which they were produced. It is not just a study of intellectuals
but of their opinions and the specific time and space that influenced
their views. Its distinctiveness lies in the aspect of the past that it aims
to illuminate, rather than the possession of any exclusive evidence.
For the purposes of this book, we examine specific authors as well as
particular themes and trajectories in the Nigeria-Biafra literature. Civil
wars are prime candidates for intellectual analyses because they are in
themselves contentious and cannot be abstracted from their historical
setting. They also resist reifications and extend into technical discourses
and non-expert exchanges. Analysing the Nigeria-Biafra war literature
within the parameters of its social, political, and cultural contexts pro-
vide insight into the bases of the strife that plague this historical event
and its consequent body of knowledge.
The Nigeria-Biafra War, which lasted from 1967 to 1970, has
remained a divisive issue in Nigeria and in scholarly circles. There is
a plethora of literature on the war; yet, no book has comprehensively
analysed the nature, background, and sentiments that shaped the
construction of these often contentious texts. This kind of analysis is
especially crucial because war literatures are shaped by various expe-
riences, group affiliations, and biases. In chronicling warfare, writers,
historians, chroniclers, combatants, and victims, among others, are
confronted with making sense of war, the shades of violence associated
with it, and the overall consequences.
The literatures also deal with the problem of apportioning blame,
giving voice to trauma, and evaluating the war’s overall impact. There
is also the difficult issue of trauma and memory, which shape narra-
tives of war-related experiences. Many cultures and individuals who
experienced traumatic events during wartime suppress these memo-
ries in their efforts to cope. Writers are, thus, not only faced with these
silences but also the physical impact on their subjects who relive their
1
Historiographical Trends
Books on the war can be grouped into fiction and non-fiction. The first
category, though fictional, captures the war’s horrific impacts on indi-
viduals and communities.1 The non-fictional group mostly comprises
biographies, personal accounts, and essays on the causes and course
of the war. There are many publications by foreigners who had been
in both warring camps. This collection of essays not only considers the
course of the war but also draws attention to the war’s humanitarian
crises and the collaboration of nations such as Britain in escalating the
conflict.2
1
An impressive array of fictional works exists on the Nigeria-Biafra War. One that has
become quite popular and subject to analysis is Chimamanda Adichie’s Half of a Yellow
Sun (New York: Anchor, 2007). It draws attention to women’s contributions to fictional
accounts on the war. Other notable works of fiction, some of which are examined by vari-
ous authors in this book, include Chinua Achebe, Girls at War and other Stories (Ibadan:
Heinemann, 1972); Chukwuemeka Ike, Sunset at Dawn: A Novel of the Biafran War (Glas-
gow: Collins Harville Press, 1976); Kole Omotoso, The Combat (Ibadan: Heinemann,
1972); Elechi Amadi, Sunset in Biafra (London: Heinemann, 1973); Cyprian Ekwensi,
Divided We Stand: A Novel of the Nigerian Civil War (Enugu: Fourth Dimension Publish-
ers, 1980); Ekwensi, Survive the Peace (London: Heinemann, 1976); Kalu Okpi, Biafra
Testament (London: Macmillan,1982); and Buchi Emecheta, Destination Biafra (London:
Allison and Busby, 1982). Another group of fictional works focuses on certain individu-
als during the war. It is to this class that Ali Mazrui’s The Trial of Christopher Okigbo, J.P.
Clark’s Casualties, and Wole Soyinka’s The Man Died belong. Incarcerated by the Nigerian
government for alleged collaboration with the enemy, Soyinka’s The Man Died is a per-
sonal account of his experience in prison. It is also a condemnation of injustice and cor-
ruption in the Nigerian government. Mazrui’s The Trial of Christopher Okigbo is a fictional
account of a trial of the famous Igbo poet, Christopher Okigbo, who died in defense of
Biafra at the onset of the war. In this trial, Okigbo is accused of abandoning literature and
the arts to become a Biafran soldier, thereby betraying the vision of a united Nigeria. J.P.
Clark’s Casualties is a collection of poems written in honor of the victims of the Nigeria-
Biafra War.
2
Some of the foreigners and journalists who published works on the Nigeria-Biafra War
include Frederick Forsyth, John de St. Jorre, John Hatch, H.G. Hanbury, Geoffrey Birch,
Dominic St. George and Walter Schwarz. Forsyth, a notable foreign journalist who pub-
lished several works on the War and was a close friend of Colonel Ojukwu, spent most of
the war years in Biafra. During this period, he was a correspondent for Time magazine
and Daily Express, and he wrote extensive accounts of Biafra’s experience. In The Making
of an African Legend: The Biafra Story, Forsyth explores the background to the civil war
and reasons that prompted Biafra’s secession. He clearly indicates that his story is told
from the Biafran perspective. He traces the background of the war from the colonial era
to independence and post-independence. He casts Nigeria as an untenable British crea-
tion whose citizens soon discovered that their differences ran deep. He also examines the
nature of the Biafran federation and gives an account of the war on the Biafran front.
Another issue that he addresses in his book is the role of foreign nations, notably Britain,
France, Russia, and the United States. Forsyth’s other book, Emeka, is a biography of the
Biafran leader, Colonel Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu. Another popular book in
this category is John de St. Jorre’s The Nigerian Civil War. He visited both warring factions
in the course of the war. Like Forsyth’s book, The Nigerian Civil War traces the background
and course of the war. Other books in this category, for instance, H.G. Hanbury’s Biafra:
A Challenge to the Conscience of Britain; Geoffrey Birch and Dominic St. George’s Biafra:
The Case for Independence; and John Hatch’s Nigeria: Seeds of Disaster, mostly have a uni-
fied objective of drawing global attention to the humanitarian crisis of the civil war, and
arguing for Biafra’s right of independence. They also vilify British involvement in the war
and its support for the Nigerian federation in Biafra’s suppression.
3
Craig W. McLuckie, Nigerian Civil War Literature: Seeking an ‘Imagined Community’ (Lewis-
ton: Edwin Mellen, 1990); and Marion Pape, Gender Palava: Nigerian Women Writing War
(Trier: Wissenschaftlicher, 2011).
4
Pape’s evaluation of the place of gender in the civil war writings suggests that the war
has since shifted to a gender war, hence the importance of examining gender in Nigeria-
Biafra scholarship in Part IV of this volume.
5
Omotoso, The Combat; Amadi, Sunset in Biafra; Ekwensi, Survive the Peace; S.O. Mezu, Be-
hind the Rising Sun (Ibadan: Heinemann, 1971); and I.N.C. Aniebo, The Anonymity of
Sacrifice (Ibadan: Heinemann Education, 1974). Some of Wole Soyinka’s works that
McLuckie examines are Soyinka, Season of Anomy (Walton-on-Thames: Thomas Nelson,
1980); The Man Died: Prison Notes of Wole Soyinka (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1979);
and Myth, Literature, and the African World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1976).
6
Chinyere Nwahunanya, ed., A Harvest from Tragedy: Critical Perspectives on Nigerian Civil
War Literature (Owerri: Springfield, 1997).
7
There are several scholarly analyses of fiction on the Nigeria-Biafra War. Some exemplary
representations are Hugh Hodges, ‘Writing Biafra: Adichie, Emecheta, and the Dilemmas
of Biafran War Fiction’, Postcolonial Text 5:1 (2009), 1–13; Ugochukwu, Françoise, ‘A
Lingering Nightmare: Achebe, Ofoegbu, and Adichie on Biafra’, Matatu: Journal for Af-
rican Culture and Society 39 (2011), 253–272; Bernard Dickson and Kinggeorge Okoro
Preye, ‘History, Memory, and the Politics of National Unity in Adichie’s Half of a Yellow
Sun’, International Journal on Studies in English Language and Literature 2:5 (May 2014),
81–89; and Niyi Akingbe, ‘Creating the Past and Still Counting the Losses: Evaluating
Narratives of the Nigerian Civil War in Buchi Emecheta’s Destination Biafra’, Epiphany:
Journal of Transdisciplinary Studies 5:1 (2011), 31–51.
8
Chima Korieh, ed., The Nigeria-Biafra War: Genocide and the Politics of Memory (New York:
Cambria Press, 2012).
9
Brian McNeil, ‘The Nigerian Civil War in History and Historiography, 1967–1970’ in
Africa, Empire, and Globalization: Essays in Honor of A.G. Hopkins, edited by Toyin Falola
and Emily Brownell (Durham: Carolina Academic Press, 2010), 541–554.
10
Ibid., 541. See also Osarhieme Benson Osadolor, ‘The Historiography of the Nigerian Civil
War, 1967–1970’ in The Nigerian Civil War and Its Aftermath, edited by Eghosa E. Osa-
ghae, Ebere Onwudiwe, and Rotimi T. Suberu (Ibadan: John Archers, 2002), 88.
Theories of War
Peace and conflict studies experts approach conflicts through various
theories that have the potentials of both limiting and expanding under-
standings of war. Scholars in this volume utilize some of these conflict
theories to analyse the circumstances of the Nigeria-Biafra War. Ogechi
Anyanwu builds on Uzoigwe’s argument that writings on the war have
considered its causes rather narrowly. He uses theories of societal con-
ditions, human nature, and natural circumstances to analyse the com-
plex causes of the Nigeria-Biafra conflict. His Chapter 3 emphasizes the
influence of natural, environmental, and political situations alongside
other multiple factors on Nigeria’s history.
A similar contribution by Bukola Oyeniyi in Chapter 6 uses social and
economic conflict theories to shed light on civil wars. He applies these
various theories to his evaluation of the Nigeria-Biafra War in order to
determine to what extent circumstances in Nigeria justified the decline
to war. Despite his application of these theories to the Nigeria-Biafra
crisis, Oyeniyi states that they may not necessarily be the touchstone
explanation to the war but do facilitate better understanding and pro-
vide a common framework for the evaluation of civil war accounts.
11
Some books that overcome this ‘causes and course’ trend and actually reflect ordinary
peoples’ encounters include: Axel Harneit-Seivers, Jones Ahazuem, and Sydney Emezue,
A Social History of the Nigerian Civil War: Perspectives from Below (Hamburg: LIT, 1997);
Egodi Uchendu, Women and Conflict in the Nigerian Civil War (New Jersey: Africa World
Press, 2007); and Korieh, The Nigeria-Biafra War.
12
Alexander Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution and the Biafran War (Enugu: Fourth Dimen-
sion Publishing, 2000)
13
Robert Collis, Nigeria in Conflict (London: Secker and Warburg, 1970).
14
The twenty-first century saw an increased interest on women’s place in the civil war.
Some of the outstanding academic works on women in the Nigeria-Biafra War are
Uchendu, Women and Conflict; Pape, Gender Palava; and Karen Okigbo, Ghostly Narratives:
The Experiences and Roles of Biafran Women in the Nigeria-Biafra War (LAP Lambert, 2012).
G.N. Uzoigwe
Introduction
The American historian and public intellectual, Arthur Schlesinger Jr.
once observed, with much propriety, that the historian suffers from an
occupational disease, namely: a passion for tidiness – an obsession that
stresses the importance of tidying past events in order to understand
the present and, hopefully, be better prepared to face the future. The
non-historian but distinguished novelist Chinua Achebe made a simi-
lar point in There Was a Country, his memoir on the Nigeria-Biafra War,
published just before his death. ‘An Igbo proverb’, he wrote, ‘tells us that
a man who does not know where the rain began to beat him cannot
say where he dried his body’.1 Both Schlesinger and Achebe believe – as
does this author – that a historical event cannot be fully comprehended
unless serious attention is paid to its antecedents. Much of the writing
about the Nigerian Civil War tends, unfortunately, to treat its causes in
a perfunctory, pedestrian manner. Beginning in media res, as it were, it
suffers from a palpable lack of tidiness, pays no attention whatsoever
to the conflict’s philosophical underpinnings, endorses generally erro-
neous stereotypes, and tends to be more concerned with the war itself
than what brought it about. Thus, no proper lessons are learned from
it, and consequently, mistakes of the past are continually repeated. It is
surprising that the civil war is not made required reading in Nigerian
colleges and universities, a palpable omission that should be corrected.
Using various archival and contemporary sources, oral interviews,
published official documents, and some relevant recent publications,
this chapter analyses the major reasons – remote and proximate – why
the most populous African country, one with enormous potential and
much promise, imploded within six years of independence and, to the
disappointment of many, plunged itself into a disastrous civil war from
which it has not fully recovered. The methodology is historical, and the
conclusions are derived from a careful study of the available evidence.
1
Chinua Achebe, There Was a Country: A Personal History of Biafra (New York: Penguin,
2012), 1.
17
2
For one historian’s view, see G.N. Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood: Prelude to the Nigerian
Civil War, 1960–1967 (Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 2011), a detailed study of what
caused the conflict.
believing that it was only through muscular, autocratic rule that the
internal peace that was the sine qua non for the achievement of colonial
ends was possible.3 Lugard’s attitude toward those he regarded as trou-
blemakers was ‘Thrash them first, conciliate them afterwards’. 4 Indeed,
‘The present unity of Nigeria as well as its disunity’, it has been written,
‘is in part a reflection of the form and character of the common govern-
ment – the British superstructure – and the changes it has undergone
since 1900.’ 5 While this policy served Britain’s colonial ends admirably,
it was impossible to implement it in an independent Nigeria whose lead-
ers were up to their eyes operating a badly skewed democratic federa-
tion. The problems of this federation may be discussed at several levels,
but four may suffice.
3
See Margery Perham’s Introduction to Joan Wheare, The Nigerian Legislative Council (Lon-
don: Faber & Faber, 1950), x.
4
Cited in G.N. Uzoigwe, ‘The Evolution of the Nigerian State’ in Foundations of Nigerian Fed-
eralism, 1900–1960, edited by G.N. Uzoigwe & Jonah Elaigwu (Abuja: National Council
on Intergovernmental Relations, 1996), 7.
5
James S. Coleman, Nigeria: Background to Nationalism (Benin City: Broburg & Wistrom,
1986), 45–46.
6
Cited in Uzoigwe, ‘The Evolution of the Nigerian State’, 7.
7
The first Nigerian General Commanding Officer of the Nigerian Military was Johnson
Aguiyi-Ironsi.
8
See Major Chukwuma Nzeogwu’s National Broadcast, 15 January, 1966.
Fearing that these evils would ultimately destroy the country, the
radicals overthrew the government in 1966. All but one of these
young officers were Igbo from the East and the Mid-West; the other
was Yoruba. Unfortunately for them, they could not control the entire
country. Under the leadership of Johnston Aguiyi-Ironsi, an Igbo, their
efforts were foiled, but Nigeria’s First Republic came to an end nonethe-
less. Interestingly, no-one mourned the brief life of that republic, even
though of the 16 Nigerians who lost their lives during the coup only
one was Igbo.
The dawn of a new Nigeria was anxiously expected. As events
unfolded, the coup, which was initially very popular in the country,
began to lose support. Many Nigerians came to believe – rightly or
wrongly – that what happened was the result of a calculated Igbo coup
that actualized their master plan to dominate Nigeria because of their
belief in their own exceptionalism.9 Ironsi’s Unity Decree easily lent
credence to this belief, although no documented evidence of collusion
between the Igbo and the coup makers has been produced.10 Moreover,
an interregnum military government operates best, for obvious rea-
sons, under a unitary administration, and there was no reason to treat
Nigeria as an exception to the general rule. Nevertheless, the Nigerian
military easily allowed itself to become as ethnically divided as Nigerian
politics, demonstrating that their so-called Nigerian patriotism was
only skin deep. The result was the vengeful killings of Igbo civilians and
soldiers particularly in the North between May and October 1966 that
international observers were convinced reached genocidal proportions.
The killings resulted in the secession of the Eastern Region and its inva-
sion by Nigeria.11
The archives at Kew Gardens (London), Rhodes House Library
(Oxford), Nigerian National Archives, and published official documents,
it is important to note, contain no evidence of any serious efforts made
by the governments of Nigeria and Britain to stop the carnage, in spite
of accounts written by respected foreign correspondents from promi-
nent British, European, and American newspapers.12 Particularly wor-
risome was the deliberate silence of the government of Britain during
the massacres, whether they were genocidal or not. None of the perpe-
trators, including the military and northern politicians who paraded
themselves in public, were ever brought to justice. Nigeria made it clear
that it would not brook any foreign interference in its internal affairs. It
is also true that Ironsi did not bring the coup leaders to justice, but the
reason was because the terms of their surrender granted them amnesty.
9
For details see Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood, 69–76.
10
This Decree is reproduced in full in S.K. Panter-Brick, ed., Nigerian Politics and Military
Rule: Prelude to the Civil War. London: Athlone, 1970, Appendix.
11
For details see Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood, Chapter 6.
12
Ibid., 100–112.
The coup and the counter-coup as well as the major massacres of July
29, September 29, and October 29 in 1966 completely destroyed the
military’s esprit de corps.
13
For the Amalgamation Decree, see Public Record Office (PRO) London, C.O. CMD 468, Re-
port by Sir Frederick D. Lugard on the Amalgamation of Northern and Southern Nigeria,
1912–1919.
14
For details, see Adedotun O. Philips, ‘Inter-Governmental Fiscal Relations, 1900–1960’
in Uzoigwe and Elaigwu, Foundations of Nigerian Federalism, 139–161.
15
This unfounded assertion is given wide publicity in Ali Mazrui’s The Africans: A Triple Her-
itage documentary series.
16
The document is reproduced in Michael Gould, The Biafran War: The Struggle for Modern
Nigeria, Foreword by Frederick Forsyth (London: I.B. Tauris, 2012), appendix 2, ‘Docu-
ment confirming the potential doubling of Nigerian oil revenue by 1970’,
17
This Decree is substantially reproduced in Panter-Brick, Nigerian Politics, 45–46.
not secede’18 but it was forced to secede, their leaders strongly believed.
Gowon, on his part, stated that he needed dictatorial powers to prevent
the East from seceding.19
18
See Paper No. 3 submitted by the Biafran delegation to the Addis Ababa Peace conference,
1968 reproduced in Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood, 264–266.
19
See Walter Schwarz, Nigeria (London: Pall Mall Press, 1968), 229–230.
20
John E. Flint, ‘Nigeria: The Colonial Experience from 1880 to 1914’ in The History and
Politics of Colonialism in Africa, 1870–1914, edited by L.H. Gann and Peter Duignan
(Cambridge: The University Press, 1969), 256; I.F. Nicolson, The British Administration of
Nigeria: Men, Methods and Myths (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), 201.
21
Coleman, Nigeria, 46–7.
22
See Uzoigwe, ‘Evolution of the Nigerian State’, in Uzoigwe and Elaigwu, Foundations of
Nigerian Federalism, 25–26.
23
See Flint, ‘Nigeria: Colonial Experience’, 255.
turned out to be a colonial red herring and a myth. The brutal fact is
that, in any part of colonial Nigeria, the colonial government was the
alpha and the omega since all the precolonial rulers had ceded their
sovereignties to the British Crown at the time of conquest. Given the
vastness and diversity of Nigeria, too, it was clear that a confederal or
perhaps a federal arrangement was most appropriate.
However, aware that such a system of government was fraught with
problems in a colonial situation, Britain chose to speak from both sides of
its mouth and became ridiculously incoherent, because colonial Nigeria
was ruled neither as a unitary state nor as a federal or confederal state.
Thus, the period from the Lord Selbourne Committee Report of 1898 to
the Macpherson Constitution of 1954, which was intended to minimize
Nigeria’s emerging ethnic politics, was a time of constitutional incoher-
ence and uncertainty.24 Nor, indeed, did the Independence Constitution
of 1959 – an object lesson in what a federal constitution should not
be – settle the major issues at stake.25
Another problem was the retention of the official lopsided demarca-
tion of Nigeria in 1939 between North and South whereby the North
controlled two-thirds of the country’s landmass and more than half of
its population, creating an imaginary line of demarcation that made
no historical or geographic sense.26 Since then, this line has become
a sacred cow for northern politicians. But it is an axiom among fed-
eration scholars that in a federation no country should be so divided
that a single part can control the whole. The division of Nigeria’s four
regions in 1966 into the current 36 states – 19 in the North and 17 in
the South, plus the Abuja Capital Territory in the North – clearly has
not solved the demarcation issue.
Given all the issues raised above, it becomes clear that Nigeria’s First
Republic and its opponents were faced with an impossible political task.
Therefore, it also becomes clear that Britain’s stewardship of its colonial
estate needs a serious re-examination, one that may result in jettisoning
the popular view that scholars should stop blaming postcolonial prob-
lems in Africa on colonialism. In any case, let it be made clear, here and
now, that no serious historian can study these problems outside of the
context of the consequences of colonial administrative policies in Nige-
ria. Let it also be understood that the function of the historian is not to
blame or praise anybody but rather to analyse and interpret events in
light of available evidence.
24
For Selborne’s Report see G.N. Uzoigwe, ‘The Niger Committee of 1898: Lord Selborne’s
Report’, Journal of the Historical Society of Nigeria, IV:3 (1968), 467–76.
25
See S.E. Majuk, ‘Independence and the Triumph of Federalism, 1954–1960’ in Uzoigwe
and Elaigwu, Foundations of Nigerian Federalism, 295–300.
26
See CO 583, Vol. 244, Memorandum on the Future of Political Development in Nigeria,
1939.
Also, among Nigerian peoples, British political officers had their pet
‘tribes’, the obedient ‘noble savages’ of the North (the good ones), and
the recalcitrant, uppity ‘tribes’ of the South, the Igbo especially (the
bad ones). Lugard described Southern Nigerians as generally being ‘of
a low and degraded type’29 whose mode of government filled him ‘with
something very close to disgust’.30 Yet: ‘Educated Africans made him
uneasy in public and irrational in private.’31 He therefore imposed on
the North a rigid conservative system of governance to shield it from
contamination by educated Southern Nigerians, which resulted in the
rise of a northern patriotism that was uncompromisingly assertive that
the South was not sufficiently united to reciprocate.
27
The word ‘tribe’ does not exist in any Nigerian language. Its origin is Hebrew and Latin
and simply meant community (tribus); but while Hebrew society was organized in 12
tribes, ancient Roman society was organized in 193 tribes. With the transition from tribe
to monarchy beginning with the Books of Samuel, Hebrew tribal organization was de-
emphasized. In Roman society, too, the transition from republic to empire under the Prin-
cipate of Augustus saw a similar de-emphasis. Unfortunately, Western peoples have used
the word ‘tribe’ since the seventeenth century to describe ‘other cultures’ they believe are
not as civilized as theirs. Unlike Westerners neither the Hebrews nor the Romans used the
word tribe pejoratively.
28
Coleman, Nigeria, 45.
29
Cited in Flint, ‘Colonial Experience’, 256.
30
Margery Perham, Lugard: The Years of Authority, 1898–1945 (London: Collins, 1960),
422.
31
Flint, ‘Colonial Experience’, 256.
It was also a society that was allowed to develop along religious lines.
In the North, the emirs, supported by British political officers, vigor-
ously fought against the promotion of Christianity and Western educa-
tion because they feared, correctly, that they would undermine Islam.
The South, unable to fight off these forces, in the end, enthusiastically
embraced both, resulting in the educational imbalance between the
two ‘Nigerias’ that was to favor the South and was to become a source
of friction in the postcolonial period. The great influence of Britain’s
‘prancing proconsuls’ during the conquest period and its curiously self
– ‘tribalized’ political officers on-the-spot during the evolution of colo-
nial policy was, for the most part, deleterious and fatal to unity.
the North. The NCNC – previously the only truly national party – was
now practically reduced to an Igbo party and left out on a limb.32 This
led to ‘pogroms’ or ethnic cleansings against the Igbo that drove them
to secession and declaration of the Republic of Biafra. Fearing that Bia-
fra’s independence would be fatal to Nigeria’s existence because other
powerful groups might follow the Igbo example, the federal government
declared war on Biafra, accusing the Igbo of breaking the socio-political
compact. The Igbo leadership dismissed the fear as essentially bogus
because no other Nigerian group was being ethnically cleansed.
Thus, the two sides justified their actions by appealing to the idea of
governance as a socio-political contract between the ruler and the ruled,
leading to both calling each other rebels. Both argued that for any state
to endure, each side must fulfill its role in this contract. Achebe stated:
patriotism, being part of an unwritten social contract between a citizen
and the state, cannot exist where the state reneges on the agreement. The
state undertakes to organize society in such a way that the citizen can enjoy
peace, and the citizen in return agrees to perform his patriotic duties.33
G.N. Uzoigwe added, ‘failure, then, by the ruled to obey the constitu-
tion [the socio-political contract] means rebellion; failure by the ruler
to act according to the tenets of the constitution also means rebellion,
and consequently the dissolution of the original association’.34 The col-
lapse of the First Republic, therefore, would not necessarily have led to
secession and war had the federal government protected the lives and
property of the Igbo, a situation that drove them to seek survival in
secession. The colonial government clearly understood its responsibili-
ties in this respect and took no action against any group that might be
considered genocidal. Nigeria and Britain, however, denied that any
genocide occurred and demanded that the Igbo must renounce seces-
sion or face the consequences of their illegal action, but felt no obliga-
tion whatsoever to say what the horrendous massacres should be called.
This idea of government as a socio-political contract has a long his-
torical pedigree. Founded on the political ideas of classical and medieval
Europe, it was only in the early modern age that the very talented trio
– Thomas Hobbes, John Locke, and Jean-Jacques Rousseau – brutally
articulated the concept and concluded that the only reason why an
individual or a group would agree to surrender some of their cherished
civil and natural rights to a state is for the protection of their lives and
property by the state, stressing therefore that failure by the state to offer
this protection for whatever reason renders the contract moot.
32
The NCNC was founded in 1944 under the name, National Council of Nigeria and the
Cameroons. This name was changed to the National Council of Nigerian Citizens after
Southern Cameroon voted to merge with French Cameroon.
33
Chinua Achebe, The Problem With Nigeria (Enugu: Fourth Dimension, 1983), 15.
34
Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood, 148.
Hobbes, who was distressed by the horrors of the English Civil War
through which he lived, wrote ‘The end of obedience [Achebe’s patriot-
ism] is protection.’ Locke and Rousseau, too, were much troubled by the
socio-political crises in their respective countries that ended in revolu-
tion and brutal wars. Although, the contract idea has been criticized
over the centuries, it has survived proudly in various forms in the writ-
ings of Thomas Hill Green and Herbert Spencer, and in the written fun-
damental laws of modern democratic states, starting with the American
Constitution. Locke and Sir Ernest Barker have effectively demolished
the opposition to the contract proposition.35 In a telling passage, Locke
wrote: ‘Who shall be judge whether the prince or legislative act con-
trary to their trust?’ He concluded emphatically: ‘The people shall be
judge.’36 Thus, the Nigeria-Biafra conflict is far from being unique and
should be studied thus. The collapse of the First Republic and its after-
math should also be studied as a shared responsibility between Britain
and its indigenous successors in 1960.
Proposition three: The secession of Eastern Nigeria and the civil war
were inevitable
Major Chukwuma Nzeogwu led a coup on January 15, 1966 that
opened a Pandora’s Box of sectarian and other problems that had been
festering in the colonial period but had been pushed under the rug.
These problems were exposed by several issues. First, the North-East
alliance initially placed the West at a political disadvantage. The 1962
crisis in the Western Region led to the implosion of the AG and the
rise of Akintola. The national census (1962–1963) crisis pitched the
North against the East, leading to hateful and outrageous outbursts by
northern politicians against the Igbo that portended the massacres of
1966. The preposterous and rigged 1964–1965 federal elections that
were boycotted by the East practically ended the North-East alliance,
thus paving the way for a North-West alliance – the Nigerian National
Alliance (NNA) – and ensured that an East-West alliance, dreaded by
the North, did not materialize.37 Akintola used the election to demonize
the Igbo and invigorate his base to vote for his party so as to put to an
end to Igbo domination of the West that he believed would result if the
AG won.38 This ugly and fraudulent election, ‘won’ by Akintola’s NNDP,
35
See Ernest Barker, ed., Social Contract: Locke, Hume, Rousseau (London: Oxford University
Press, 1946).
36
John Locke, The Second Treatise of Government, edited by J.W. Gough (Oxford: Blackwell,
1956), 121.
37
For details see Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood, 25–33, 35–52; cf. G.N. Uzoigwe, ‘Prelude
to Secession and War: The Nigerian Census Crisis, 1962–1963’, Mbari: The International
Journal of Igbo Studies, 2:1&2 (January 2009), 9–24; Schwarz, Nigeria & K.W.J. Post and
Michael Vickers, Structure and Conflict in Nigeria, 1960–1966 (London: Heinemann,
1973).
38
For details See Victor Ladipo Akintola, Akintola: The Man and the Legend, Enugu: Delta,
1982; cf. Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood, 53–63; Post and Vickers, Structure and Conflict;
had the slogan ‘Operation Salvation for the West’. Far from achieving
those ends, it led to the breakdown of law and order, leading to the fed-
eral government belatedly declaring a state of emergency in the West.
This was the proximate cause for the collapse of the First Republic.
It should be noted that Balewa waited to act until his new ally, Akin-
tola, was in power because Sarduana of Sokoto and leader of the NPC,
Ahmadu Bello, ‘would not hear of Samuel Ladoke’s humiliation for
the protection of [Michael] Okpara’.39 Okpara was Premier of the East-
ern Region and the United Progressive Grand Alliance, which caused
Bello nightmares. Schwarz pointed out appropriately that Bello and
his NPC were too shortsighted to realize ‘that the political advantages
that would arise from the fall of Akintola were far less serious than the
general calamity which now promised to overtake the whole regime
[of Akintola]’.40 The ascendancy of Akintola and the NNA, the fall of
Obafemi Awolowo and his AG, and the reduction of the NCNC to the
status of a regional party, led to an unbridled Northern arrogance that
seemed to care more about the North than the rest of the country. View-
ing what happened, considering that the North controlled the federal
government, one may concur with John Locke that the contract of
government was practically ended, the general will of the country had
become ‘mute’, and leaders on all sides were guided by secret motives.
Given such a situation, the federal government as sovereign could no
longer honor its trust to protect peoples’ lives and property. The result
was that the Nigerian state was headed for trouble because it was main-
taining ‘only a vain, illusory, and formal existence’. 41 Nzeogwu and his
group, indeed, did the First Republic a favor by terminating its short life.
Unfortunately, the Ironsi regime made matters worse.
Another issue that complicated the situation was that no major Igbo
politicians or top military officers were killed during the January 15
coup. This brought to the fore some of the sectarian problems raised
above. The lack of convincing explanation for the absence of Igbo casu-
alties was to cause the Igbo and Ojukwu infinite trouble throughout
the Nigerian crisis, especially from those Nigerians who harbored a
pathological distrust and suspicion of the Igbo. Nzeogwu’s rather lame
explanation that while some of his soldiers ‘carried out our assignment,
others did not’42 failed to change their mindset. Nor were they satisfied
with the reasons the soldiers provided for their putsch, principally to
change ‘our country and make it a place we could be proud to call our
home, and not to wage war … Tribal considerations were completely out
of our minds.’ 43
Schwarz, Nigeria.
39
Akintola, Akintola, 105
40
Schwarz, Nigeria, 189.
41
Locke, Second Treatise, 112.
42
Quoted in Schwarz, Nigeria, 191.
43
Quoted in ibid., 194.
Some writers have pointed out that the public jubilation of several
Igbo in the North following the death of Balewa and Ahmadu Bello in
particular and Ironsi’s actions during his short stewardship as head of
state convinced many Nigerians that what happened was a planned
Igbo coup that the North believed attracted justifiable reprisals.44 The
findings of these writers may well be correct. However, no justifiable
explanation has been provided why the killing of six prominent North-
erners led to the continued killing of thousands of Igbo domiciled
in the North between May and October 1966. At the same time, the
northern political leadership, the federal government, and the British
government, which was later adamantly opposed to the secession that
followed, did nothing to stop the carnage, especially since the July 29
counter-coup in which thousands of Igbo soldiers and civilians lost
their lives – the so-called ‘return match’ – had firmly returned political
power to the North. An Eastern Nigerian publication made this point
more poignantly:
If revenge was the motive behind what happened in May and the even more
deadly counter-coup in July, then why was the September-October holo-
caust necessary? … When will the North ever be satisfied with its ‘revenge’
for the attempted coup of 15th January? How many Easterners must die
before the six Northerners out of the fifteen who lost their lives in the 15th
January incident are avenged? Until the power of the North is enthroned
again in Lagos? Or until the North seceded? … The East does not agree that
the price it must pay for the life of its people is the acceptance of domination
in Nigeria.45
Several writers on the Nigeria-Biafra conflict have totally ignored this
point. They have also failed to examine seriously the belief that the
January 15 incident was a calculated Igbo affair to actualize their
domination of Nigeria. But they know, or ought to know, that the Igbo
had neither the manpower in the military, nor the political alliance in
the country, nor the population, and not even the financial resources
needed to achieve such an ambition.
Indeed, those who have looked closely at what happened have
debunked the Igbo coup thesis.46 The easy readiness of the proponents
of the Igbo thesis, without authenticated proof, is a function of the sus-
44
See, for example, J. Isawa Elaigwu, Gowon: The Biography of a Soldier-Statesman (Ibadan:
West Books, 1986), 39–47; N.U. Akpan, Struggle for Secession, 1966–970: A Personal Ac-
count of the Nigerian Civil War (London: Frank Cass, 1976), 3–11, 30; Schwarz, Nigeria,
203–205; Panter-Brick, Nigerian Politics, 23–30; Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood, 67–76.
45
See Eastern Nigeria (Ministry of Information), ‘Nigerian Pogrom: The Organized Mas-
sacre of Eastern Nigerians’, Crisis series, vol. 3. (Enugu: Ministry of Information, 1966),
25–26.
46
Lloyd, ‘The Ethnic Background to the Nigerian Crisis’ in Panter-Brick, Nigerian Politics,
10; cf. ibid., K. Whiteman, ‘Enugu: The Psychology of Secession, 20 July 1966 to 30 May
1967’, in Panter-Brick, Nigerian Politics, 116; Geoffrey Birch and Dominic St. George, Bia-
fra: The Case for Independence (London: Britain-Biafra Association, 1968), 4.
47
Some works quoted directly in this and other chapters use the non-standard/colonial
spelling ‘Ibo’, and these are rendered as in the originals, marked by [sic] at the first use in
each chapter. Otherwise ‘Igbo’ is used throughout.
48
Whiteman, ‘Enugu’, 116.
49
Ibid.
50
Ibid.
51
See Colin Legum, The Observer, London, October 16, 1966.
52
See NAL (London), FCO 65/248, 1968, Confidential.
Aburi Accord53 that would have prevented the Civil War, and promising
Gowon a supply of arms that encouraged him to invade Biafra, Wilson
and his government must bear some responsibility for the civil war.54
Britain’s hostility toward the Igbo in general has a long history that has
been well documented.55
Suffice it to say here that the image of the Igbo – true or false – that
British colonial officials in Nigeria transmitted home during the con-
quest era (and throughout the colonial period) caused policy makers
to be suspicious of Igbo intentions.56 Indeed, one of Britain’s first acts
after the conquest of Igboland was to stop, for a short while, Igbo expan-
sion into neighboring territories that had been going on for centuries.
It is also generally believed that Britain refused to hand over political
power to the South at independence, especially to the Igbo. It was deter-
mined at independence to leave the affairs of Nigeria in ‘in a safe pair
of hands’, meaning Balewa and the North.57 Francis Cumming-Bruce,
British High Commissioner, and his successor, David Hunt, both dis-
liked the Igbo intensely. As far as Bruce was concerned the Igbo ‘were
too clever by half ’ and Hunt thought little of Igbo military prowess.58
Walter Schwarz observed:
The Igbo is quickest to learn [of all Nigerians]: he is at home in an office,
a factory, a Rotary Club or a ballroom. Yet in the social and political arts
of living with other people in a federation, without getting himself heavily
disapproved of, he has failed totally and disastrously.59
Current developments in Nigeria seemed, therefore, to have brought
back bad memories of the past, stoked particularly by Igbo frontline
radical leadership during the independence struggle and led to fears
that the Igbo would undo over 60 years of Nigerian state development.
53
This Accord is reproduced in full in Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood, Chapter 10; and for
Wilson’s action regarding it see Stanley Diamond, Who Killed Biafra? (London: Biafra As-
sociation of Europe, 1970), 8.
54
Dan Jacobs, The Brutality of Nations (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1987), 12; cf. Tobe
Nnamani, ‘Biafra in Retrospect’, in Chima Korieh, ed., The Nigeria-Biafra War (New York:
Cambria, 2012), 145.
55
See, for example, Adiele E. Afigbo, Ropes of Sand: Studies in Igbo History and Culture (Ibadan
University Press, 1981); Don C. Ohadike, The Ekumeku Movement: Western Igbo Resistance
to British Colonial Conquest of Nigeria, 1883–1914 (Athens: Ohio University Press, 1991);
S.N. Nwabara, Iboland: A Century of Contact with Britain, 1860–1960 (London: Hodder
& Stoughton, 1977); Sylvia Leith-Ross, African Women: A Study of the Ibo of Nigeria (Lon-
don: Faber & Faber, 1939); cf. Uzoigwe, ‘The Igbo and the Nigerian Experiment’ in Against
All Odds: The Igbo Experience in Postcolonial Nigeria, edited by Apollos O. Nwauwa and
Chima J. Korieh (Glassboro, NJ: Goldline & Jacobs Publishing, 2011), 17–22.
56
See ibid.
57
Gould, Biafran War, 44; Trevor Clark, A Right Honourable Gentleman: The Life and Times of
Alhaji Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa (Zaria: Hudahuda, 1991), 405–406; cf. Majuk, ‘Inde-
pendence’, 300–302.
58
See Gould, Biafran War, 52.
59
Schwarz, Nigeria, 251–252.
It was not that British officials hated the Igbo as a group as some Igbo
scholars seem to imply; on the contrary, the Igbo-British relationship
may be characterized as love-hate. Uzoigwe wrote:
By the 1940s and 1950s the Igbo had come to admire what they perceived
to be the British ideal of fair play, and how they rewarded hard work, hon-
esty, and excellence. However, for the most part, they never bowed their
back to their new rulers in obsequious humility. The British, although they
never really liked the Igbo for this and for other reasons, did reward them
when they felt that it was fair to do so; however, the infrastructural develop-
ment of Igboland and the East generally did not seem to have been a major
concern of the colonial administration.60
As long as the Igbo did not upset the status quo in independent
Nigeria, all was well, and Britain was determined to keep the apple
cart intact at all cost. Thus, official British policy as revealed during
the civil war was simple: Biafra must be crushed because ‘the Ibos took
matters into their own hands and resorted to unilateral action when
they seceded in May, 1967 [but] if the two sides can agree that Nigeria
should remain a single country, as it was when we brought it to inde-
pendence, we should gladly support this’.61 This became the centerpiece
of British policy throughout the conflict. Because Gowon agreed with
this policy and Chukwuemeka Ojukwu, the Biafran leader, did not,
Harold Wilson’s administration launched an unprecedented global dip-
lomatic campaign that brought both the big powers and the OAU, the
Arab League, the Islamic world, India, the West Indies, South America,
Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and all the smaller European coun-
tries together to support British policy on Biafra.62 Britain, of course,
did not incur the huge financial expenses that this diplomatic onslaught
involved because of a love of Nigeria or for the preservation of constitu-
tional integrity but essentially to protect its huge investments and other
interests in Nigeria as well as to retain its influence. All the other coun-
tries involved, too, were also driven to do what they did to protect their
respective national interests as they saw them, despite the fact that, in
most countries, public opinion was sympathetic toward the sufferings
of the Igbo. Their interests included economic, religious, neo-colonial,
and Cold War considerations.63
Why then did the Igbo, after seeing this handwriting on the wall,
still favor secession? In his speech at the Addis Ababa conference in
August, 1968, Ojukwu, following the European contractarians, sup-
plied this answer: ‘In the northernmost parts of Nigeria they [Northern
60
Uzoigwe, ‘The Igbo and the Nigerian Experiment’, 19.
61
NAL, CAB 151/83. Brief No 20, 1968. Nigeria; Some Questions and Answers. Confiden-
tial.
62
NAL, FCO 65/248, July 28, 1968. Confidential.
63
See Rhodes House Library (RHL), Oxford – Papers of Sir Miles Clifford’s ‘Friends of Nige-
ria’; cf. Gould, Biafran War, xvi, xviii, 54.
64
See Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood, 155 for complete quotation.
65
See some of these gruesome accounts in Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood, 100–114; cf.
Uzoigwe, ‘Forgotten Genocide’, 73–78.
66
For a portrayal of Ojukwu’s and Gowon’s characters see Gould, Biafran War, 152–157.
67
See Uzoigwe, ‘Forgotten Genocide’, 67–73, especially the interview he had with General
Gowon.
68
Schwarz, Nigeria, 215, emphasis added.
The main point about the September killings was that they affected the mass
of the people and created a sort of an emotional climate in which seces-
sion was possible. The argument about numbers (whether it was 5,000 or
30,000 killed or whether there were 700,000 or 2 million refugees) is irrel-
evant. Whatever the number, it was sufficiently large to create a trauma of
considerable proportions, because it affected so many families and stretched
through society.69
Two other actions of the federal government fortified the Igbo’s belief
that secession was the best option for them. The first was Gowon’s deci-
sion to renege on the Aburi Accord that he willingly signed. He did so
because federal permanent secretaries as well as the British government
convinced him on his return from Aburi that the Accord was a confed-
eral arrangement that would eventually lead to the disintegration of
Nigeria.70 ‘On Aburi we stand’ became, therefore, the official policy of
the East, and a rallying point for the Igbo.71 Had the Accord been given
a chance to work there is no doubt that there would have been no seces-
sion and no civil war. The other reason they believed that secession was
inevitable was Decree No. 8 of 1967 that, as stated earlier, made the
Igbo a minority in the East.72 Uzoigwe wrote:
first the Igbo now controlled only one of the twelve states, becoming even
a minority in the East … the Hausa-Fulani controlled four of the five north-
ern states; the Yoruba controlled all the three Yoruba states, Lagos being,
for all practical purposes, a Yoruba state; Port Harcourt which the Willinck
Commission of Inquiry declared to be an Igbo city, was now carved out of
Igboland and made the capital of the new Rivers State; also carved out of
Igboland were most of the oil-producing Igbo subgroups including Obigbo
[literal translation, ‘Abode of Ndigbo’] and thirteen oil-producing commu-
nities of Egbema which no one ever doubted to be Igbo as well as all the
Ikweres, a sub-Igbo group.73
He went on:
The Igbo now denied access to the sea on all sides, and trapped, to borrow
Jonathan Swift’s felicitous, even if morbid, description of himself, ‘like a
poisoned rat in a hole’ were clearly in trouble. The issue was, as Igbo lead-
ers confided in N.U. Akpan, ‘the honour of their race,’ asking how ‘anyone’
could ‘dare … even conceive that Ibo blood could be shed in such a wanton
way, and imagine that nothing would be done about it – impossible!’ – What
was Ojukwu to do now that Gowon had called his bluff?74
69
Whiteman, ‘Enugu’, 116.
70
Elaigwu, Gowon, 29–30.
71
Ojukwu’s administration reproduced the Accord in twelve gramophone records.
72
For details of this decree see Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood, 117–120.
73
Ibid., 120.
74
Ibid.
80
Legum, The Observer, October 16, 1966.
81
Partington, ‘The Carnage I saw’, Daily Express, October 6, 1966.
for providing answers to the above questions, but somehow they have
not even raised them, let alone answered them.
Conclusion
The rabid historicist is free to argue that this visitation gives too much
credit to human agency in directing the course of historical events and
neglects those immutable and cyclic laws said to govern these events.
What is undeniable, nevertheless, is that in Nigeria’s colonial and early
postcolonial history, the imprint of the human agency both in its laud-
able achievements and failures is writ large. Britain and its adminis-
trators forged a new country from hundreds of sovereign nations and
called it Nigeria. They ruled it autocratically for some 60 years in amaz-
ing stability, and made commendable achievements in educational, eco-
nomic and social development by the time of independence. However,
some problems of this ostensibly stable country that were swept under
the carpet erupted soon afterwards. Because their Nigerian successors
failed to address these problems successfully, given the system of a curi-
ous democratic federation that they inherited, Nigeria collapsed, and
the aftermath was a series of events that ended in secession and civil
war. To blame the conflict solely on Ojukwu or the Igbo would be both
simplistic and unhistorical. What also happened had precious little to
do with the laws of historicism. The duty of the historian is to provide a
critique of how the human agency handled its awesome task, for good
or ill.
Postscript
It was generally known that since the OAU, Britain, and the United States
were on Nigeria’s side, Biafra was doomed. Within Britain, indeed, Nige-
ria won the unsolicited but grateful support of an influential group of
individuals made up of captains of industry and commerce, and signifi-
cant politicians of the Labour and Tory parties in both Houses of Parlia-
ment; they were headed by Sir Geoffrey Miles Clifford. Their ostensible
aims were to counter what they called ‘Biafran propaganda’, to comple-
ment Wilson’s diplomatic efforts and present the ‘true facts’ of events
in Nigeria to the world. They called themselves ‘Friends of Nigeria’ and
they hired an influential public relations firm, Galitzine & Partners for
this purpose.82 A case of the kettle calling the pot black! There was also
a less influential group of individuals in the British Isles made up of
intellectuals, radicals, missionaries, newspaper correspondents, and
philanthropists who supported Biafra’s cause. They called themselves
82
Their papers are deposited at Rhodes House Library (RHL), Oxford.
83
Their papers are also deposited at RHL. These include two boxes containing hundreds of
revolting photographs depicting the atrocities visited on the Igbo. Cf. Uzoigwe, Visions of
Nationhood, 281–334.
84
For the position of Ojukwu, see Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood, 223–245.
85
NAL, CAB 151/83. Brief NO. 20. Confidential.
86
For this contrary evidence see RHL Mss AFr. s 2399; Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood,
281–334; S. Elizabeth Bird and Fraser Ottanelli, ‘The History and Legacy of the Asaba,
Nigeria, Massacres’, African Studies Review, 54:3 (2011),1–26.
87
NAL, CAB 151/83. Brief NO. 20. Confidential.
Ogechi E. Anyanwu
Introduction
The Nigeria-Biafra War (1967–1970) was a defining event in the his-
tory of postcolonial Nigeria. Nigeria’s independence in 1960 marked
the beginning of attempts to build a strong, united, and prosperous
nation in Africa’s most populous pluralistic country. Yet the tension
arising from the conflicting interests and aspirations of the country’s
diverse ethnic groups intensified. The British had made little effort to
unite the different ethnic groups in a collective consciousness during the
colonial period. Its indirect rule system of administering Nigeria under-
cut any chances of promoting social solidarity among various ethnici-
ties. Worse still was that the forced amalgamation of the Northern and
Southern Protectorates of Nigeria in 1914 was not successful in nar-
rowing the entrenched historical, cultural, and religious differences in
the country. Due to the mistrust and fear of domination and deprivation
that dominated Nigeria’s politics during the colonial period, it was only
a matter of time before the country’s fragile unity would be tested. That
test came at independence. The inability to resolve the disagreements
between the federal government, headed by Lieutenant Colonel Yakubu
Gowon, and the Eastern Region, headed by Lieutenant Colonel Emeka
Ojukwu, compelled the latter to secede from Nigeria by proclaiming the
independent Republic of Biafra on May 30, 1967. Swiftly, the federal
government declared a war designed to keep the county together. A civil
war ensued, lasting from July 6, 1967 to January 15, 1970.1
One of the subjects of unending scholarly debates about the Nigeria-
Biafra War has been its causes. Much of the scholarly writing on the
causes of the war has taken a narrow view of the war, often inspired
by loyalty to an ideology or ethnic group. This chapter applies the theo-
ries of societal conditions, economic conditions, and human nature as
explanatory frameworks to analyse the dynamic and complex causes of
1
Various scholars have acknowledged the devastation of the war and its impact on Nige-
ria’s postcolonial politics. See Eghosa E. Osaghae, Ebere Onwudiwe, and Rotimi T. Suberu,
The Nigerian Civil War and its Aftermath (Ibadan, Nigeria: John Archers, 2002); A. Adejoh,
The Nigerian Civil War: Forty Years After, What Lessons? (Ibadan: Aboki, 2008).
40
the war. Through analysis of mostly primary sources acquired from the
National Archives, London (UK), this chapter argues that the Nigeria-
Biafra War represented a predictable convergence of domestic mistrusts
and rivalries that British colonial rule consolidated with broader neo-
colonial British interests that the Cold War era politics facilitated. The
war was a logical manifestation of unaddressed ethnic tension that
typified Nigeria’s colonial society. It shows that even after achieving
political independence, the tension refused to disappear but was rather
sharpened, making war inevitable. As demonstrated in this chapter, the
historical causes of the Nigeria-Biafra War can only be fully understood
in the context of several processes that include the prevailing attitudes
and relationship among Nigerian peoples and societies; the competition
and fear over the control of the country’s natural resources, especially
oil; and the mindset of major actors in the conflict. By exploring the
subject from a perspective that incorporates multiple forces that created
the underlying conditions for the war, this chapter provides a much
more comprehensive understanding of the war’s significance in Nige-
ria’s history and a valuable window into not only the current problems
of Nigeria but also the remedies.
This chapter shows that the theories of societal conditions, economic
conditions, and human nature are crucial to any understanding of the
dynamic and complex causes of the Nigeria-Biafra War. Many scholars
have blamed societal problems for conflicts, wars, and many other ills
afflicting societies. Jean-Jacques Rousseau sees the ills as emanating
from the dynamics existing within a society. For him, exploitation and
domination of others reflect human enslavement to their own needs.2
As the history of the Nigeria-Biafra War reveals, the undercurrents
of Nigeria’s pluralistic society made it likely for the country’s diverse
ethnic groups to either attempt to dominate others or avoid domina-
tion. Nationalism, described as an adulterous religion, often leads to
war. Every nation ‘has its own rose colored mirror’, and members,
when threatened, opt to defend themselves even with violence.3 There
is no mistaking the fact that the millions of Igbo people, who put up
a gallant fight in the face of Nigeria’s superior military power, loved
their nation; so did the Nigerian forces that fought to keep the country
united. Unjust rule marked by dictatorship and tyranny often lead to
conflicts and wars. For Immanuel Kant, absence of democracy creates
the atmosphere in which war could be possible.4 The heated undemo-
cratic political environment in which the Nigeria-Biafra War occurred
supports Kant’s positon.
Related to the theory of societal condition is that of economic
2
Jean-Jacques Rousseau, The Social Contract and Discourses (New York: Dutton, 1950).
3
Frederick H. Hartmann, The Relations of Nations (New York: Macmillan, 1978), 32.
4
Immanuel Kant and Carl J. Friedrich, The Philosophy of Kant: Immanuel Kant’s Moral and
Political Writings (New York: Modern Library, 1949).
5
John Locke, The Second Treatise on Civil Government (Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books,
1986), 6–8.
6
Richard A. Falk, This Endangered Planet (New York: Vintage, 1973).
7
Vladimir Lenin, Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism (Moscow: Progress Publishers,
1982 [1963]).
8
Saint Augustine, quoted in Thomas M. Magstadt and Peter M. Schotten, Understanding
Politics: Ideas, Institutions, and Issues (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1984), 440.
9
Plato, The Republic, edited by G.R.F. Ferrari and translated by Tom Griffith (Cambridge and
New York: Cambridge University Press, 2000).
10
Sigmund Freud and A.A. Brill, The Basic Writings of Sigmund Freud (New York: Modern
Library, 1938).
11
Thomas Hobbes, The Leviathan, edited by A.R. Waller (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1904), 63–5.
12
Hans J. Morgenthau, Politics Among Nations: The Struggle for Power and Peace (New York:
Knopf, 1967), 36.
13
G.N. Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood: Prelude to the Nigerian Civil War (Trenton, NJ: Af-
rica World Press, 2010); Alexander A. Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution and the Biafran
that the Nigeria-Biafra War was only possible because of the complex
interactions between leaders unwilling to compromise and trapped in
a winner-takes-all mentality, a historically divided country assailed by
fear of domination and deprivation, and a lopsided economy that lent
itself to unhealthy competition between the major ethnic groups.
War (Enugu, Nigeria: Fourth Dimension Publishers, 1980); Chinua Achebe, There was
a Country: A Memoir (New York: Penguin Books, 2013); Chima Korieh, ed., The Nigeria-
Biafra War: Genocide and the Politics of Memory (Amherst, NY: Cambria, 2012); John de St.
Jorre, The Brothers’ War: Biafra and Nigeria (Boston, Houghton Mifflin, 1972); E. Wayne
Nafziger, The Economics of Political Instability: The Nigerian-Biafran War (Boulder, CO:
Westview Press, 1983); Michael Gould, The Struggle for Modern Nigeria: The Biafran War,
1967–1970 (London; New York: I.B. Tauris, 2012); Morris Davis, ‘Negotiating about
Biafran Oil’, Issue: A Journal of Opinion 3:2 (Summer 1973), 23–32; Suzanne Cronje, The
World and Nigeria: The Diplomatic History of the Biafran War, 1967–1970 (London: Sidg-
wick and Jackson, 1972).
14
O. Osadolor, ‘The Development of the Federal Idea and the Federal Framework’, in Feder-
alism and Political Restructuring in Nigeria, edited by K. Amuwo, A. Agbaje, R. Suberu, and
G. Herault (Ibadan: Spectrum, 1998), 35.
15
Daily Service (Lagos), October 17, 1944, 2.
16
Minutes of the first inaugural conference of the Egbe Omo Oduduwa, June 1948, cited in
James Smoot Coleman, Nigeria: Background to Nationalism (Berkeley, University of Califor-
nia Press, 1958), 346.
17
West African Pilot, July 6, 1949.
18
Education Sector Analysis, Historical Background on the Development of Education in Nigeria
(Abuja: Education Sector Analysis, 2003), 14.
19
Ahmadu Bello, My Life (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1962), 160.
20
Obafemi Awolowo, Path to Nigerian Freedom (London: Faber & Faber, 1947), 47–48.
21
Proceedings of the General Conference on Review of the Constitution, January 1950 (Lagos:
Government Printer, 1950), 46–47.
22
Ibid., 52.
23
Ibid., 22.
24
Ibid., 218.
25
Legislative Council Debates, Nigeria, March 4, 1948, 227, cited in Coleman, Nigeria, 361.
26
Editorial, Gaskiya Ta Fi Kwabo, February 18, 1950, cited in Report on the Kano Disturbances
of May 1953 (Kaduna: Northern Regional Government, 1953), 43.
each region at the federal legislature, the controversy was not surpris-
ing.30 The main issue surrounding the census crisis was ‘which section
of the country – the North or the South – should exercise veto over the
future of Nigeria … And the 1962–1963 census resolved it, at any rate
temporarily, in favor of the North. But almost absentmindedly, Nigeria’s
ethnic politicians were cascading their country toward a precipice.’ 31
To many in the South, the 1962–1963 census, ‘provided further evi-
dence of the ability and determination of the North … to maintain its
population majority and the political power that it conferred’.32
Before 1966, Nigeria had four regions: the North, East, West, and
Mid-West, the last having been carved out from the West in June 1963.
In these regions, ‘three major national groups – the Hausas, Yorubas
and Ibos [sic] – each dominated their own region, while at the same
time they engaged in a bitter struggle for power at the Federal center’.33
The Hausa-Fulani controlled the center. According to Walter Schwarz:
‘The federation has never achieved the balance of interests that it has
in America or in India. In practice the arrangement has been that the
winner takes all. The Northern People’s Congress effectively rules the
whole country.’34 The census crisis coincided with the disputed elections
of 1964 and the allegation of corruptions levied against political lead-
ers at the federal and regional levels to drive a military coup in January
1966 which saw the assassination of mostly prominent northern politi-
cians, including Balewa. The leader of the coup was Kaduna Nzeogwu,
an Igbo officer.
An Igbo-led coup that saw the lopsided killing of northern politi-
cians aggravated existing ethnic mistrust. Although the coup was
unsuccessful, the North was apprehensive of southern domination, as
Johnson Aguiyi-Ironsi, an Igbo man, who was the top-ranking military
officer, became the head of state. Northern misgiving was confirmed
when Aguiyi-Ironsi’s government introduced a unitary system of gov-
ernment for the country, a system that ended regional autonomy.35
Losing power to a southerner, afraid of competing with the much more
advanced southerners for educational opportunities, and unsure of
the consequences of the new unification policy, northern restlessness
heightened. Although the North was bigger in size than the South, as
Welch and Smith put it,
30
See Eghosa Osaghae, The Crippled Giant: Nigeria since Independence (Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1998).
31
G.N. Uzoigwe, ‘Prelude to Secession and War: The Nigerian Census Crisis, 1962–1963’,
Mbari: The International Journal of Igbo Studies 2:1&2 (January 2009), 22.
32
Rotimi T. Suberu, Federalism and Ethnic Conflict in Nigeria (Washington, DC: United States
Institute of Peace, 2001), 29.
33
Colin Legum, ‘The Civil War in Nigeria: Pattern for a New Nation’, The Observer Foreign
News Service, September 26, 1969, in Foreign and Commonwealth Office 65/446 (here-
after FCO 65/446). The National Archives, London, United Kingdom.
34
Walter Schwarz, ‘The Next Escalation’, (FCO 65/446).
35
Federal Republic of Nigeria, Decree No. 1, 1966; Daily Times, 29 January 1966.
the North feared the southern regions. This fear sprang largely from the
limited educational and economic opportunities in the region. Preference
for recruitment into the Northern Civil Service was given [to] Northern-
ers, even with lower educational qualifications. Abolition of such prefer-
ences would close the major avenue by which Northerners could advance
themselves.36
The fears and uncertainty of the unitary system of government
under the control of an Igbo man, combined with Aguiyi-Ironsi’s
delay in punishing those who executed the first military coup, brought
uneasy feelings in the North. Because they were fearful of losing the
independence and privileges they enjoyed previously, the North backed
another coup that overthrew Aguiyi-Ironsi’s regime on 29 July 1966,
six months after coming to power. Gowon, one of the leaders of the
coup that resulted in the assassination of Aguiyi-Ironsi, emerged as
the new leader. He acted swiftly by suspending unitary decree, uncon-
sciously sending a message that the basis of Nigeria’s unity was absent.
Ojukwu, the Military Governor of the East questioned the legitimacy
of Gowon’s authority, especially since the circumstances surrounding
Aguiyi-Ironsi’s death remained unclear.
The assassination of mostly northern political leaders in the wake of
the Nzeogwu-led coup saw retaliatory killings of mostly Igbos living in
the North. Such killings started when Aguiyi-Ironsi was in power and
increased in intensity when Gowon became the head of state. The sys-
tematic slaughter of Igbos living in the North not only provided eastern
leaders part of the justification to secede from Nigeria but also made
it easy for them to sway the public in the East in favor of war. As the
political elites in Nigeria discussed the future of the country following
the two coups, Igbos living in the Northern Region were systematically
killed. Between May and October 1966, over 30,000 Igbo people living
in the North were brutally massacred.37 Mobs in many northern cities,
mostly with active assistance of local officials, carried out the killings.
Gowon’s inability to end the killing of Igbo people in the North caused
the Igbos to question the validity of the country’s nation-building pro-
ject. In fact, the consensus at a meeting between George Thomas, the
minister of State for Commonwealth Affairs, and the Nigerian High
Commissioner in London was that the major cause of the crisis that
led to the war ‘was the massacre of eastern Ibos in the north in the
aftermath of the coup’.38 The fear of further genocide and the desire for
36
Claude E. Welch and Arthur K. Smith, Military Role and Rule: Perspectives on Civil-Military
Relations (Belmont, CA: Duxbury, 1974), 128.
37
Uzoigwe, Visions of Nationhood.
38
‘Record of a Talk between the Minister of State for Commonwealth Affairs, Mr. George
Thomas and the Nigerian High Commissioner at the Commonwealth Office on Friday 28
April 1967’, Prime Minister’s Office 13/1661 (hereafter PREM 13/1661). The National
Archives, London, UK.
survival of the Igbo ethnic group played into the hands of leaders in the
East as they galvanized the public against the federal government. They
made the people believe that the choice available to them was either
secession or death. Choosing the former, therefore, was only logical.
Colin Legum, the chief correspondent for Africa for The Observer Foreign
News Service, noted:
It is almost impossible for the Federals to reach the minds of the mass of
Ibos within Biafra to persuade them that genocide is not what lies in wait for
them if they abandon secession. The Biafran leadership’s efforts to keep the
fears of genocide are naturally greatly helped by memories of the ghastly
massacres which occurred in Northern Nigeria in 1966, when large num-
bers of Ibos as well as other Nigerians died.39
Ojukwu was accurate when he said that the Igbos were ‘the foremost
champions of unity in Nigeria’ but ‘that unity has, however, proved
through so many crises, to be a costly mirage’.40 The killings of Igbos
in the North weakened their commitment to Nigeria’s unity. Ojukwu
exploited the prevailing public mood in the East to justify secession and
attract support for it. This is because, as Achebe saw it, ‘a strong sense
[prevailed] that Nigeria was no longer habitable for the Igbo and many
other peoples from Eastern Nigeria’.41 Framing secession and the war
that followed as a struggle for survival was especially appealing to the
easterners. Ojukwu felt justified since the war was aimed at saving his
people from complete annihilation.42
The consolidation of two competing nationalisms in the mid-1960s
in the aftermath of the Igbo killings further poisoned the political and
social landscape of Nigeria. For those in Biafra, strong nationalistic
cohesion and sentiments were forged due to the hatred and bitter-
ness engendered by their common suffering. For Nigeria, despite the
differences among other ethnic groups, it was united in the shared
fear of potentially losing its share of the oil wealth. United by shared
sorrow, nationalism among Igbos surpassed in strength the sense of
39
Colin Legum, ‘The Civil War in Nigeria: For Biafra, A Gamble Against Slow Death’, The
Observer Foreign News Service, September 24, 1969 (FCO 65/446).
40
Letter from Odumegwu Ojukwu to Harold Wilson, the British Prime Minister, May 30,
1967 (PREM 13/1661).
41
Achebe, There was a Country, 86.
42
In a BBC interview in 2000, Ojukwu argued, ‘At 33 I reacted as a brilliant 33 year old. At
66 it is my hope that if I had to face this I should also confront it as a brilliant 66 year old
… How can I feel responsible in a situation in which I put myself out and saved the people
from genocide? No, I don’t feel responsible at all. I did the best I could.’ Insisting that the
major issues that led to the civil war remain unaddressed in post-civil war Nigeria, he said
that the Igbos have remained excluded from power, which will remain a source of insta-
bility in the country. As he noted, ‘None of the problems that led to the war have been
solved yet. They are still there. We have a situation creeping towards the type of situation
that saw the beginning of the war.’ See Barnaby Phillips, ‘Biafra: Thirty Years On’, BBC,
January 13, 2000, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/596712.stm (accessed August 20
2014).
43
‘Ojukwu has made his Point’, Economist, August 30, 1969. The paper wondered if ‘the
Biafrans demonstrated that their claim to a separate state is as strong, as say, that of the
Irish?’ 19 (FCO 65/446).
44
‘Text of Gowon’s message to Prime Minister’, July 1, 1967 (PREM 13/1661).
45
Ibid.
46
‘Nigerian Request for Arms’, A.M. Palliser Telegram, July 2, 1967 (PREM 13/1661).
47
Gowon to Prime Minister July 1, 1967.
48
Ibid.
49
‘Telegram from Sir. D. Hunt to Commonwealth Office’, June 2, 1967’ (PREM 13/1661).
50
Ibid.
51
Nigerian National Petroleum Corporation (NNPC), Annual Statistical Bulletin, 1994.
52
W. Ehwarieme, ‘The Military, Oil and Development: The Political Economy of Fiscal Feder-
alism in Nigeria’, in Fiscal Federalism and Nigeria’s Economic Development, edited by E. Aig-
bokhan (Ibadan: Nigerian Economic Society, 1999), 57. During that period, the Pound
Sterling was worth approximately 15 times its value in early 2016, and £1 was worth
about $2.4 US Dollars of the time.
53
Ojukwu to Wilson.
54
‘Text of Ojukwu’s Speech’, June 30, 1967 (PREM 13/1661).
55
‘Text of United States Ambassador’s Assessment of Current Situation’, February 20,
1967 (PREM 13/1661).
56
‘Text of Letter from M.E.A.’, June 28, 1967 (PREM 13/1661).
57
Ibid.
58
Ibid.
59
Hunt to Commonwealth Office.
60
Ibid. Western Support for the secessionist Katanga region in the newly independent Re-
public of Congo (capital Léopoldville, now Kinshasa) created violent unrest in the coun-
try which saw the assassination of the first democratically elected government headed by
the Prime Minister, Patrice Lumumba. Events in Congo became a public relations night-
mare for western countries during the Cold War.
61
Ibid.
62
See The Times (London), July 3, 1967, 9; July 6, 1967, 5; July 7, 1967, 1; July 8, 1967, 1;
and New York Times, July 8, 1967, 2.
63
Federal Republic of Nigeria, Decree No. 14 of 1967.
64
‘Letter from Yakubu Gowon to Harold Wilson’, June 2, 1967 (PREM 13/1661).
65
Ojukwu to Wilson.
66
Winston S. Churchill, ‘Can the Nigerian Crisis have a Military Solution?’ The Times, March
6, 1969.
67
Ojukwu to Wilson.
68
Ibid.
69
Achebe, There Was a Country, 86.
70
Ibid., 85.
71
Telegram No. 286, March 1, 1967 and Telegram No. 267, February 20, 1967 (PREM
13/1661).
72
Achebe, There Was a Country, 86.
73
Ojukwu to Wilson.
74
Ibid.
75
‘Text of Ojukwu’s Speech’, June 30, 1967 (PREM 13/1661).
76
Ibid.
77
Hunt to Commonwealth Office.
78
Gowon to Wilson.
79
Hunt to Commonwealth Office.
80
‘Eastern Consultative Assembly’, May 26, 1967 (PREM 13/1661).
81
‘Nigeria’, May 25, 1967 (PREM 13/1661).
it’. 82 The leaders had no choice except to respond to the people’s wishes.
At the assembly, Ojukwu encountered, as Achebe observed, ‘leaders of
an emotionally and psychologically exhausted and disillusioned Igbo
people’.83 The inability of Gowon’s government to allay the fears of the
East or narrow its differences with it after they declared Biafra directly
led to the war. Against accusation that the declaration of Biafra was
born out of Ojukwu’s personal agenda, Achebe writes:
the decision of an entire people, the Igbo people, to leave Nigeria, did not
come from Ojukwu alone but was informed by the desires of the people and
mandated by a body that contained some of the most distinguished Nige-
rians in history: Dr. Nnandi Azikiwe, Nigeria’s former governor-general
and first ceremonial president, Dr. Michael I. Okpara and Sir Francis Ibiam,
former premier and governor of Eastern Nigeria respectively, and Supreme
Court justice Sir Louis Mbanefo. Others included: the educator Dr. Alvan
Ikoku: first republic minister Mr. K. O. Mbadiwe; as well as Mr. N.U. Akpan;
Mr. Joseph Echeruo; Ekukinam-Bassey; Chief Samuel Mbakwe; Chief Jerome
Udoji; and Margaret Ekpo. 84
Both sides of the conflicts miscalculated and misjudged the inten-
tions of each other, a factor that contributed to the war. According to
Churchill,
Ojukwu evidently hoped that Biafra could gain its independence without
a costly war and that many states would grant it recognition. The federal
government, for its part, disastrously underestimated the military capacity
of the Biafrans in imagining that the war would last only a matter of weeks
and would end in victory with little bloodshed.85
When Ojukwu declared Biafra, the federal government immediately
prepared for war notwithstanding its public proclamations of seeking a
peaceful resolution of the crisis. Gowon released a statement immedi-
ately condemning Ojukwu’s announcement as ‘ill-advised’ and describ-
ing it ‘as an act of rebellion which will be crushed’.86 On the day Biafra
was declared, Hunt met with Gowon and left ‘with a definite impression
that Federal Military Government are planning to take military action
against the East’.87
Gowon had invited Hunt and the American ambassador, Elbert G.
Mathews, to Government House to discuss the nature of assistance
the federal government needed from Britain and America. Gowon’s
request for ‘military assistance’, ‘air reconnaissance’, and ‘fighter cover
82
Ibid.
83
Achebe, There Was a Country, 88.
84
Ibid., 91.
85
Winston S. Churchill, ‘Can the Nigerian Crisis Have a Military Solution?’ The Times,
March 6, 1969.
86
‘Text of statement by Federal Military Government’, May 30, 1967 (PREM 13/1661).
87
‘Telegram from David Hunt to Commonwealth Office’, May 31, 1967 (PREM 13/1661).
and ships’ from the United States and the United Kingdom was politely
turned down even when Gowon asked if their ‘answer would have been
different if British/American [oil] interest in the Eastern Region were
threatened’.88 Hunt stated that Gowon’s ‘thoughts revealed frightening
absence of any sense of realism’, a factor that Ojukwu pointed out in
many of his speeches about Gowon.89 In fact, in a letter to the British
Prime Minister, Ojukwu wrote that Nigeria and Biafra ‘have reached
the parting of ways [because of] the uncompromising attitude of the
authorities in control of Lagos under the direction of Northern Nigeria
and their refusal to implement agreements’.90 He insisted that federal
attempts to withhold funds due to the region coupled with the massa-
cre of Igbos in Northern Nigeria were ‘aimed at annihilating the entire
population of Eastern Nigeria’.91
Although the economic measures taken against the Eastern Region
escalated the conflict, it was Ojukwu’s insistence on the right of seces-
sion and the federal government’s unwillingness to allow it that made
peaceful resolution of the conflict beyond reach. Ojukwu made real
his publicly declared threat that if the federal government imposed a
blockage on the Eastern Region they would secede from Nigeria. Such
a blockage threatened Biafra’s right to independence. Suzanne Cronje
argued:
The Nigerian war was fought over one issue and one issue only: Biafra’s right
of secession … If the basic issue was Biafra’s right to live apart from Nigeria,
British suggestions that peace could be achieved ‘if only’ Ojukwu were to
be a little more flexible and agree to accept Federal authority amounted to
an invitation to the Biafrans to surrender … The only possible compromise
– a loose association between Nigeria and Biafra entailing close cooperation
between equal partners on a voluntary basis – was unacceptable to Nigeria
and did not receive British support.92
The easy availability of foreign, self-serving military assistance not
only served to entrench foreign involvement in Nigeria’s domestic scene
but also provided the impetus for war. Walter Schwarz noted that if
Nigeria won the war ‘with oil money and Russian planes and European
pilots, Nigeria’s borders will have been maintained, as they were drawn
in the first place, by foreign interest’.93 Biafra had built up its air force
largely through buying surplus French air force stock as well as the
purchase of a dozen Super Constellations from Spanish, Portuguese,
and French civil airlines.94 Weapons easily made available by shady
88
‘Telegram from David Hunt to Commonwealth Office’, May 30, 1967 (PREM 13/1661).
89
‘Telegram from David Hunt to Commonwealth Office’, May 29, 1967 (PREM 13/1661).
90
Ojukwu to Wilson.
91
Ibid.
92
Cronje, The World and Nigeria, 66, 68, and 70.
93
Walter Schwarz, ‘The Next Escalation’ (FCO 65/446).
94
Ibid.
Conclusion
The Nigeria-Biafra War was one of Africa’s bloodiest postcolonial wars.
The war threatened to tear Nigeria apart. The politics of exclusion, the
fear of domination, and deprivations that dominated the history of post-
colonial Africa lay at the root of many wars on the continent, including
this one. Understanding the causes of the war requires a thoughtful
analysis of the prevailing nature and conditions of Nigeria’s peoples
and societies, the country’s uneven spread of natural resources, and
the uncompromising attitudes of leaders. Aoy Raji’s and T.S. Abejide’s
argument that ‘oil served as an underlying factor why Biafra wanted a
separate republic’ ignores the complexity, history, and context of the
war.98 This chapter has used the theories of societal conditions, eco-
95
Sunday Times, October 23, 1966.
96
Ibid.
97
Ibid.
98
Aoy Raji and T.S. Abejide, ‘Oil and Biafra: An Assessment of Shell-BP’s Dilemma during
the Nigerian Civil War, 1967–1970’, Kuwait Chapter of Arabian Journal of Business and
Management Review 2:1 (July 2013), 15–32.
nomic conditions, and human nature to analyse the complex forces that
coincided in 1967 to cause the Nigeria-Biafra War. It deconstructs the
argument that Ojukwu’s declaration of the war was motivated simply
by the prospects of controlling the revenue from oil wells situated in the
East, or to realize his personal ambition.
Placing all the societal, economic, and human variables at the center
of analysis of the causes of the Nigeria-Biafra War, as demonstrated in
this chapter, provides a much more comprehensive understanding of its
complex causes. Nigeria’s public mood between 1966 and 1967, espe-
cially between the Northern and Eastern Regions, hardly lent itself to
compromise. The Igbo nationalism that the 1966 killings consolidated,
the emergence of a volatile and uncompromising public mood that
Gowon and Ojukwu’s words and actions emphasized, the easy access
to military support that foreign involvement guaranteed, and the pos-
sibility of establishing an economically viable Biafran nation that the
oil revenue promised, made the declaration of Biafra irresistible, federal
response predictable, and war unavoidable.
1
Elsewhere I have underscored this point. See Raphael Chijioke Njoku, ‘Nationalism, Sepa-
ratism and the Neoliberal Globalism: A Review of Africa and the Quest for Self-Determi-
nation since the 1950s’, in Secession as an International Phenomenon, edited by Don Doyle
(Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2010), 338–380.
2
Alain Rouvez, Disconsolate Empires: French, British and Belgian Military Involvement in
Postcolonial Sub-Saharan Africa (Lanham: University Press of America, 1994), 147–149.
62
and reassure them about their future.3 Also, given that every secession-
ist conflict involves territorial claims and resource control, the Biafran
soldiers in 1969 appeared to have somehow started to slow down the
advancement of the federal troops though they had altogether lost a
good chunk of the original Biafran territories.4 As a recently declassified
US memo noted, in late 1968, the secessionist soldiers were still control-
ling about 10,000 square miles of the Igbo country.5 This translates to
approximately 62 percent of the estimated 16,216 square miles of the
Igbo homeland.
Alluding to the successes made by his troops in his speech, the Bia-
fran leader reminded the audience that in the Onitsha front of the war,
for instance, his ‘gallant’ soldiers contained the advance of the federal
troops who first took control of the town 15 months previously.6 After
the better-equipped federal troops attempted to enter Onitsha in October
1967, the ragtag Biafran soldiers resorted to guerrilla tactics, blowing
up the Niger Bridge, which momentarily frustrated and slowed down
the progress of 12th Brigade of the federal soldiers. Being a commercial
hub of Igboland, Onitsha held great strategic interest for the Nigerian
military in the quest to stop Biafra. In other words, for Biafra, the inabil-
ity of the federal troops to a gain an absolute control of the town since
October 1967 was, in itself, a form of victory.
In the Awka, Okigwe, Umuahia, Ikot Ekpene, Azumini, and Aba sec-
tors of the war, the story was similar. In the Awka district for instance,
Ojukwu reported that the ‘enemy is confined only to the highway
between Enugu and Onitsha, not venturing north or south of that
road’.7 In the Okigwe front, the progress of Nigerian troops was ham-
pered by landmines laid by the Biafrans, which made the highway lead-
ing from Okigwe treacherous. It was also true that the Biafran forces
had regained some grounds along the Owerri/Port Harcourt area.8
3
This fact has been emphasized by Elder Ugoeze Onyekwere who watched the speech live
at Ahiara village from midnight when it started to 4 a.m. on the fateful day. See Report by
Chika Abanobi, ‘Ahiara: 42 Years after Ojukwu’s Biafra Declaration’, Daily Sun, April 15,
2013.
4
For a timeline on the fall of Biafra’s territories, see, for instance, Ntieyong U. Akpan, The
Struggle for Secession, 1966–1970: A Personal Account of the Nigerian Civil War (London:
Frank Cass, 1972), 134.
5
US Department of State, Office of the Historian, Foreign Relations of the United States,
1964–1968 Volume XXIV, Africa, Document 398 (hereafter FRUS). Memorandum From
Edward Hamilton of the National Security Council Staff to the President’s Special As-
sistant (Rostow), 1 (fn1) Washington, August 12, 1968. See also Ini Ekott, ‘U.S. Blames
Ojukwu, Gowon for Biafra Starvation Deaths’, Premium Times (Lagos), October 12, 2012.
6
Emeka Ojukwu, ‘The Ahiara Declaration (The Principles of the People’s Army) by Emeka
Ojukwu General of the People’s Army’, Ahiara Village, Mbaise, Biafra, June 1, 1969, 2–3,
in Francis Ayozieuwa Joseph Njoku Personal Collections (hereafter FAJN Personal Collec-
tions, AD-PPA).
7
Ibid., 2–3.
8
Chinua Achebe, There Was a Country: A Personal History of Biafra (London: Penguin,
2013), 217.
9
FAJN Personal Collections, AD-PPA, 5.
10
Ibid., 3.
11
Michael Draper, ‘Biafra’s Air Force’, Aircraft Illustrated (November 1969), 436–439.
12
FAJN Personal Collections, AD-PPA, 3.
nor did they have regional influences within such bodies as the Organi-
zation of African Unity, which could have halted the war. Yet, except
for the impoverished and isolated Haiti, the friendly countries had just
started to break free from several decades of European colonial domi-
nation. As a result, their vulnerability as independent nations in the
perilous game of international politics was obvious.
Pertinent questions arise as to why the three most powerful and
influential superpowers – Britain, United States, and the Soviet Union –
chose to either openly side with the Nigerian federal government, as was
the choice of the Soviet Union and Britain, or pretend to be neutral in
the war, as was the policy of the United States. In a Cold War era, when
the Western capitalist bloc, led by the United States, and the Eastern
bloc, headed by the now-defunct Soviet Union, habitually disagreed on
every issue pertaining to international politics, the question becomes
even more critical as to why the superpowers were united in their objec-
tion to the Igbo cause. This was the real obstacle the Biafrans could not
overcome, and it demands a prudent investigation.
The United States, the Soviet Union, and Britain understood the inci-
dents of human rights abuses and genocidal practices of the Nigerian
state against the easterners. In particular, throughout the duration
of the war, Britain and the United States were under pressure from
the British and American masses to intervene in favor of Biafra. The
most potent pressure came in the form of an outpouring of European
public opinion around a conflict Europeans have come to understand in
religious terms: persecuted Christian Biafra versus a leviathan Muslim
Hausa-Fulani-dominated Nigerian Federal Military Government. The
primary concern for both the Eastern and Western powers was that the
phenomenon of separatism or political divorce in an unstable imme-
diate postcolonial world order was an anathema. Secession posed a
real and serious strategic danger to the superpowers’ vested economic,
political, ideological, and cultural interests around the world.
In the Ahiara Proclamation of June 1969, Ojukwu described Bolshe-
vik Russia as a late bloomer in the race for World Empire since the end
of the world wars. According to Ojukwu, Russia was frantic in its quest
to establish a foothold in Africa, in realization that the continent occu-
pies an important position in the quest for global power.16 To support his
claims, Ojukwu cited Russia’s growing alliance with leaders of North
African states such as Egypt under Gamal Abdel Nasser and Algeria
under Houari Boumediene. These Arab leaders were moving their
respective countries towards state communism. Perhaps encouraged
in part by the bold but truncated efforts of communist ideologues like
Kwame Nkrumah of Ghana (1909–1972) and Patrice Lumumba of the
Congo (1925–1961) to establish Soviet-like political systems in their
16
FAJN Personal Collections, AD-PPA, 16–17.
17
All the African leaders who had embraced communism as a strategy for moving their
respective countries forward met stiff opposition from both within and outside and often
untimely deaths.
18
FAJN Personal Collections, AD-PPA, 17; NAI, CWC 1–5.
19
FAJN Personal Collections, AD-PPA, 18.
20
See Raphael Chijioke Njoku, The History of Somalia (Westport: ABC-CLIO Press, 2013),
115–132.
21
FAJN Personal Collections, AD-PPA, 32–33; NAI, CWC 1–5.
22
FAJN Personal Collections, AD-PPA, 32–33.
haves and the have-nots and undermines the peace and unity of the
people’.23 Ojukwu further contended that a society where this is allowed
is doomed to rot and decay. Moreover, the danger is always there of a small
group of powerful property-owners using their influence to deflect the State
from performing its duties to the citizens as a whole and thereby destroying
the democratic basis of society. This happens in many countries and it is one
of the duties of our Revolution to prevent its occurrence in Biafra.24
Given the apparent inclination towards a socialist state system, which
was a source of concern for many Igbo ‘moneybags’ who willingly sup-
ported secession with their personal resources, one would have thought
that the Soviet Union would embrace Biafra as an ally. The salient fact
underlining the Soviets’ opposition to Biafra substantially rested on the
potential harm that aiding a secessionist movement overseas might
bring to the unity of the restive units of the Union whose Constitution
of 1936 contained a secessionist clause. Article 72 stated, inter alia:
‘Each Union Republic shall retain the right freely to secede from the
Soviet Union.’25 Consequently, any conduct of Soviet foreign policy that
implied support for separatism would have sent a dangerous message to
the restless ethnic groups within the federation.
Although its huge economic interests in the conflict outweighed
other considerations, Britain faced a similar problem of a potential irre-
dentist backlash within and outside the United Kingdom. At home, the
Scottish and Irish questions remained volatile in the 1950s through to
the 1970s. For example, the Scots, whom the Nobel Prize winner Wole
Soyinka wittily described as the ‘most tribal society in the world’, have
been contemplating independence over the past 170 years, as under-
scored in the September 18, 2014 referendum that narrowly stopped
the quest for an independent nationhood.26 Similarly, the question of
self-rule in Northern Ireland has remained very explosive. It might be
recalled that it was precisely in 1968 that Northern Ireland’s Catholics
organized a large demonstration protesting discrimination in voting
rights, housing, and unemployment. A brutal police repression sparked
several months of fighting and a re-emergence of the Republican
movement.27
In the United States, the memories of a brutal secessionist war
(1861–1865), lingered alongside with US colonial interests in the Phil-
ippines, Guam, and Panama. Additionally, the respective governments
23
Ibid.; NAI, CWC 1–5.
24
FAJN Personal Collections, AD-PPA, 32–33.
25
Constitution of the USSR, 1936. See also Articles 73 and 76 of other editions of the same
Constitution.
26
Scottish Independence Referendum Act of 2013. See ‘Scots’ Day of Reckoning’, The Her-
ald, September 18, 2014, 1. See Graham Fraser, ‘Nobel Laureate Lauds Federalism’s Or-
dinariness’, The Globe and Mail, October 8, 1999, 1.
27
See Tim Ito and Aileen Yoo, ‘Ireland’s Troubled History’, Washington Post, April, 1998.
28
For details, see, for instance, Jerrold M. Packard, American Nightmare: The History of Jim
Crow (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2002).
29
FRUS, Reel 3, Frame 0549.
30
Ibid., Reel 6, Frame 0176.
31
US State Department Central Files, Biafra-Nigeria 1967–1969 Political Affairs, A UPA
Collection from LexisNexis (hereafter USSDCF).
32
Rouvez, Disconsolate Empires, 147.
33
USSDCF.
34
Jeffrey D. Blum, ‘Who Cares About Biafra Anyway?’, Harvard Crimson, January 25, 1969.
35
All quotes from ‘Biafra: More Help from the US’, Time, January 3, 1969.
36
‘Biafra: Worsening Conditions’, Time, August 29, 1969.
37
See Stanford University Libraries, The Inventory of the American Committee to Keep Bia-
fra Alive, 1967–1970, No. 71031, such as the United States Agency for International
Development (USAID), the Government of the Republic of Biafra, and the Government of
Nigeria; press releases from the United States Department of State, American congress-
men and women, and Markpress, Biafran Overseas Press Division; clippings; periodical
literature; and audio-visual materials relating to the Nigerian Civil War of 1967–1970.
38
Peter Sedgwick, ‘The Appalling Silence and Inactivity of the British Left as Biafrans Face
Death and Starvation’, transcribed from Socialist Worker by Ted Crawford, Marxists’ Inter-
net Archive, July 10, 1969.
39
In a press conference following his action, Lennon reiterated that his action was in
response to the role of Britain in the plight of Biafra, which he said ‘most of the Brit-
ish public aren’t aware of ’. This action was also a protest against British support for
America’s Vietnam war. See ‘John Lennon – Returning His MBE’, www.youtube.com/
watch?v=6m0glhvwhdI (accessed August 29, 2014).
40
Rouvez, Disconsolate Empires, 147.
41
Akpan, The Struggle for Secession, 143.
42
FAJN Personal Collections, AD-PPA, 5.
I have for a long time thought about this our predicament – the attitude of
the civilized world to this our conflict. The more I think about it the more I
am convinced that our disability is racial. The root cause of our problem lies
in the fact that we are black. If all the things that have happened to us had
happened to another people who are not black … the world’s response would
surely have been different.43
In the next breath, the speech switched to the issue of alleged geno-
cide against the Igbo. Attacks on Igbo elements residing in Northern
Nigeria began as early as 1945, and one of the most disturbing attacks
occurred in 1953. The bloody riots of that year revealed that the dif-
ficult task of getting the three diverse regions (North, West, and East)
to work harmoniously in any close-knit federation proved more difficult
than anyone acknowledged. But, instead of confronting this problem
then and perhaps coming up with a solution in advance, the excite-
ment to gain independence from Britain hindered careful thought on
the matter. Eventually, the 1966 attacks became the spark that ignited
the civil war. Reflecting on the violent Igbo-Hausa-Fulani relations,
Ojukwu noted that, in 1966,
some 50,000 of us were slaughtered like cattle in Nigeria. In the course of
this war, well over one million of us have been killed; yet the world is unim-
pressed and looks on in indifference. Last year, some blood-thirsty [sic] Nige-
rian troops for sport murdered the entire male population of a village. All
the world did was to indulge in an academic argument whether the number
was in hundreds or in thousands.44
Once again, the legitimate argument based on genocide was mis-
placed on two crucial points. First, Ojukwu cited the arrest of 18 ‘white
men’ who were purported to be fighting along with the federal army.
‘Today, because a handful of white men collaborating with the enemy
… were caught by our gallant troops, the entire world threatens to stop.
For 18 white men, Europe is aroused. What have they said about our
millions? … How many black dead make one missing white?’45 Reacting
to this charge on Friday June 13, 1979, Time magazine noted:
The voice of General Odumegwu Ojukwu, carried by Radio Biafra, vibrated
between impassioned outrage and constrained eloquence. The 18 men that
Biafra’s boss referred to – 14 Italians, three West Germans and a Lebanese –
were employees of the Italian government’s oil combine, ENI.46
43
Ibid.; NAI, CWC 1–5.
44
FAJN Personal Collections, AD-PPA, 5.
45
Even this was more than evident when the Declaration stated: ‘The mass deaths of our
citizens resulting from starvation and indiscriminate air raids and large despoliation of
towns and villages are a mere continuation of this crime. That Nigeria has received com-
plete support from Britain should surprise no one. For Britain is a country whose history
is replete with instances of genocide’.
46
‘Biafra: Reprieve for Eighteen’, Time, June 13, 1969.
47
FAJN Personal Collections, AD-PPA, 18.
48
Ibid., 18.
49
See Melville J. Herskovits, The Myth of the Negro Past (New York: Harper, 1941), ix.
Playing a subsidiary role is Bolshevik Russia seeking for a place in the Afri-
can sun.50
The inability of the Nigerian state to overcome its multitude of
problems, including state corruption and social decay, has often been
blamed squarely on the British colonial and neo-colonial interests that
forced hundreds of ethnic groups with diverse cultures into a common
union.51 In his speech, Ojukwu claimed that the Biafran Revolution was
‘a total and vehement rejection of all those evils which blighted Nige-
ria, evils which were bound to lead to the disintegration of that ill-fated
federation’.52 He claims that Biafra was ‘a positive commitment to build
a healthy, dynamic and progressive state, such as would be the pride of
black men the world over’.53 According to him, Nigeria was a classic
example of a neo-colonialist state. After the end of colonial rule, Britain
changed its colonial tactics
by installing the ignorant, decadent and feudalistic Hausa-Fulani oligarchy
in power … Owing their position to the British, they were servile and submis-
sive. The result was that while Nigerians lived in the illusion of independ-
ence, they were still in fact being ruled from Number 10 Downing Street.
The British still enjoyed a stranglehold on their economy.54
The failure of the Africa postcolonial state to sustain a progressive
and stable political order has been a sore point of criticism for Africans
and grounds for racist attacks. In light of this, Ojukwu declared that the
Igbo cause was a rejection of racial chauvinism, ‘in particular against
that tendency to regard the black man as culturally, morally, spiritually,
intellectually, and physically inferior to the other two major races of the
world – the yellow and the white races’.55 Like the earlier generations
of black intellectuals and pioneers of modern African thought, such
as Alexander Crummell (1819–1898), Edward Blyden (1832–1912),
James Africanus Beale Horton (1835–1883), and W.E.B. DuBois
(1868–1963), to mention a few who have articulated similar race
theories, Ojukwu asserted that this ‘belief in the innate inferiority of
the Negro and that his proper place in the world is that of the servant of
the other races, has from early days coloured the attitude of the outside
world to Negro problems. It still does today.’56 This assertion recalls Du
Bois’s The Souls of Black Folk, in which he proclaimed that ‘the problem
of the twentieth century is the problem of the color-line – the relation
50
FAJN Personal Collections, AD-PPA, 7.
51
See, for instance, Uche Chukwumereije, ‘Ndigbo: The Sacrificial Lamb of a Deformed Na-
tion’, in Against All Odds: The Igbo Experience in Postcolonial Nigeria, edited by Apollos O.
Nwauwa and Chima J. Korieh (Glassboro, NJ: Goldline & Jacobs, 2011), 57–72.
52
FAJN Personal Collections, AD-PPA, 7.
53
Ibid., 7.
54
Ibid., 15.
55
Ibid., 7–8.
56
Ibid., 7–9.
of the darker to the lighter races of men in Asia and Africa, in America
and islands of the sea’.57 Using this statement to underline the nega-
tive connotation the term ‘blackness’ has come to represent in the last
century, Du Bois explains the meaning of the emancipation in America
and its lingering effects on his race.
A modern history graduate and alumnus of Oxford University,
Ojukwu criticized the now discredited Hamitic hypothesis to further
support his points. The proponents of the theory, among its other vari-
ants, postulated that the Negro African is mentally inferior and ques-
tioned the humanity of the Negro. As Ojukwu stated in his speech, some
European theorists had variously identified the Devil as the first Negro,
linked the Negro with the cursed progeny of Ham, and also questioned
whether the Negro ‘had a soul; and if he had a soul, whether conver-
sion to Christianity could make any difference to his spiritual condition
and destination’.58 In conclusion, Ojukwu charged:
It is this myth about the Negro that still conditions the thinking and attitude
of most white governments on all issues concerning black Africa and the
black man; it explains the double standards which they apply to present-day
world problems; it explains their stand on the whole question of independ-
ence and basic human rights for the black peoples of the world.59
At a time the civil rights movement in the US was intense, lawmakers
and the powerful dominant majority were very suspicious of any speech
that used race as a talking point.
Further commenting on the legitimacy of the Biafran struggle as a
movement of self-determination, Ojukwu claimed that the revolution
was a movement based on democratic ideals, human rights, and self-
determination: ‘When the Nigerians violated our basic human rights
and liberties, we decided reluctantly but bravely to found our own
state, to exercise our inalienable right to self-determination as our only
remaining hope for survival as a people.’60 These ideals, in the views of
many white powers, he charged, are good only for whites. Attempts by
the Biafran leaders to claim it, according to Ojukwu, were ‘considered
dangerous and pernicious: a point of view which explains but does not
justify the blind support which these powers have given to uphold the
Nigerian ideal of a corrupt, decadent and putrefying society’.61 To the
Western powers,
genocide is an appropriate answer to any group of black people who have
the temerity to attempt to evolve their own social system … Yet, because we
are black, we are denied by the white powers the exercise of this right which
57
W.E.B. Du Bois, The Souls of Black Folk (Chicago: A.C. McClurg, 1903), 5, 16.
58
FAJN Personal Collections, AD-PPA, 8.
59
Ibid., 8–9.
60
Ibid., 9–10.
61
Ibid., 9.
62
Ibid., 9–10.
63
Ibid., 10.
64
Ibid., 10–12.
65
Ibid., 7–8.
66
Ibid., 18–19.
‘the farmer, the trader, the clerk, the business man, the housewife, the stu-
dent, the civil servant, the soldier, you and I are the people … [T]he People
are master; the leader is servant. My name is Emeka. I am your servant, that
is all.’67
In the context of Biafra,
revolution is a forward movement … [meant to improve] a people’s standard
of living and their material circumstance and purifies and raises their moral
tone. It transforms for the better those institutions which are still relevant,
and discards those which stand in the way of progress.68
In the new system, Ojukwu declared that ‘those who aspire to lead must
bear in mind the fact that they are servants and as such cannot ever be
greater than the People, their masters. The leader must be custodians of
social justice and equality of all citizens.’69 Some of Biafra’s principles
resonated with the mainstream liberal Western values, others linked
with property and community came across as communistic.
67
Ibid., 24.
68
Ibid., 27.
69
Ibid., 30–31.
70
Ibid., 53.
Conclusion
This chapter emphasizes the influence of the Ahiara Declaration in
bringing to an end the Biafran struggle to claim self-determination in
the face of what the secessionist leaders had perceived as gross injustice
on the part of the Nigerian federal government, which they character-
ized as genocide – a selective attempt to eliminate the Igbo as an ethnic
group. The argument has been made that, despite the fact that in the
context of international politics Biafra had a legitimate right to secede,
this right weighed low on the scale compared with the prerogative of
the superpowers of the immediate colonial order to safeguard their
powers and interests. The key antagonists in the Cold War struggle were
united in their opposition of Biafra because, among other reasons, they
feared that allowing Biafra to have its way would have set a bad example
for similar movements around the world, including within the restive
borders of the defunct Soviet Union, Britain, and other places.
The fate of Biafra would take a sharp turn downward soon after the
Ahiara Declaration, which was provocative to the ears of enemies of
the Biafran cause in the international arena. Sharing a similar view, on
April 13, 2012, the NBF News acknowledged that the Ahiara Declara-
tion was necessary but came too soon for the well-being of the struggle:
There were portions of it that weakened the [Igbo] elders, leaders of thought,
especially the moneybags in Biafra. The moneybags were those rich people
who on their own had volunteered to help the nation and the Army instead
of being meant to understand that their wealth belonged to the nation and
the government. For instance, the ideas of reminding them to ‘freely’ donate
71
See Republic of Ireland Parliamentary Debates, Adjournment Debate: Nigeria-Biafra
Conflict, Vol. 241, July 9, 1969.
one van or truck or a house, if they had two, did not go down well with
many of them.72
Overall, the various interest groups – notably, the international, Afri-
can, Nigerian, and Biafran audiences – misunderstood the Ahiara Dec-
laration, and it negatively impacted the fortunes of the young republic.
The British and the Soviets, who were already biased against Biafra, per-
ceived it as an insult, a slap on the face. The Igbo elite interpreted it as
a threat to their wealth and to free enterprise. While the Proclamation
could easily earn high marks as an academic essay, it perhaps only suc-
ceeded in explaining to the Igbo people why they should demonstrate
love, oneness, social justice, freedom, and security in their lives. Unfor-
tunately, it alienated the rich and the powerful within and without. The
consequence was the end of Biafra, six months after the eloquence of
Ojukwu captured the ears of the world over the Biafran Radio.
72
‘Between Ojukwu’s “Ahiara Declaration” and Hitler’s Mein Kampf’, NBF (The National
Bonsai Foundation) News, April 13, 2012.
Biafra had been the former Eastern Region of Nigeria until May 1967
when the Governor, Lieutenant Colonel Chukwuemeka Odumegwu
Ojukwu, and leaders of the state declared it a sovereign and independ-
ent nation separate and apart from Nigeria. The region’s separation
from Nigeria was a result of the two deadly military coups in 1966
and the massacres of the easterners, especially the Igbo, in the other
parts of Nigeria. The predominant ethnic group in the East was the Igbo
and the principal minority groups were the Efik, Ibibio, Ijaw, Okrika,
Ogoni, Akwa-Ibom, Annang, Oron, Ogba, Ekpeya, and Ngeni. The
young nation fought a brave 30-month civil war with Nigeria and lost
on January 1970. It secured diplomatic recognitions as an independent
nation from Tanzania, Gabon, Zambia, Ivory Coast, and Haiti.
By June 1969, Biafra was a physical remnant of Igboland still under
the control of the Biafran Army. It consisted principally of parts of
Owerri; the adjoining towns of Ogbaku, Mbieri, Ikeduru, Isu, Osu,
Obowu, Ahiara, Mbaise, Umuaka, Ihiala, and Orlu; and the famous
Uli Airport. The territory was less than 5 percent of the original size
of Biafra and constituted mainly of the Igbo and some refugees of the
minority ethnic groups of the state.
81
The three component regions of Nigeria – the East, the West, and the
North – were separate and independent of one another and had three
different, ideologically entrenched political parties, namely, National
Council of Nigerian Citizens (NCNC) in the Eastern Region, the Action
Group (AG) in the West, and the Northern People’s Congress (NPC) in
the North.
The country had political independence from its colonial master, the
United Kingdom, but was not a nation yet. All of the political leaders –
Dr Nmamdi Azikiwe of the East; Chief Obafemi Awolowo of the West;
and Sir Ahmadu Bello and Sir Abubakar Balewa, both of the North –
were regional leaders with no overall national following. No one leader
in pre-independence Nigeria was able to generate followership across
his own ethnic frontiers because of suspicion, envy, religion, customs,
language, and foreign influence.
The lack of concern for the evolution of the Nigerian nationhood
during the first six years of independence was not unexpected. There
was, for example, no one national resistance movement in which the
leaders were all involved. To the contrary, the party leaders represented
their own different respective political parties with opposing programs
and philosophies. The East and the West, for example, agreed that Nige-
ria was ready for independence in 1957 when Ghana had its independ-
ence but were not in agreement as to whether Nigeria should have a
unitary or federal system of government. The North, on the other hand,
did not agree that the country was ready for independence but wanted
a federation for the country. The differences had to be negotiated, and
inevitable compromises by the leaders that made the country’s inde-
pendence possible were their major contribution, especially considering
the odds and the circumstances of the time.
The situation was not made easier by the colonial master who foisted
an independence constitution on the country that accentuated ethnic-
ity, tribal hatred, and envy in Nigeria. The blueprint for the country’s
independence assured and assuaged the reluctant North. It provided a
built-in 50 percent representation at the central government that guar-
anteed the region a permanent majority and control of the Government
of the Federation of Nigeria. As the suspicions deepened, awareness
of regionalism and protection of sectional rights and privileges, and
ethno-centrism manifested themselves in extravagant lifestyles; mas-
sive individual accumulation of wealth and real estate; corruption in
both high and low places by Government Ministers, Civil Servants, the
Judiciary, the Police, Corporation Boards, Commissions, Electoral and
Census Boards; disregard for the Public Service Code of Conduct in
appointment, promotion, retirement and discipline; and, worst of all,
corruption and tribalism in the Nigerian Armed Forces.
The emergence of a presumed collective interest in the country’s
freedom from colonial domination that resulted in the compromises
by the three party leaders and led to the country’s independence soon
1
Martin Meredith, The Fate of Africa: A History of the Continent Since Independence (New
York: Public Affairs, 2011), 202.
2
Austine Okwu, In Truth for Justice and Honor: A Memoir of A Nigerian-Biafran Ambassador
(Princeton: Sungai, 2011), 241–244, 268–271.
3
Ibid., 235–241.
4
Chinua Achebe, There Was a Country (New York: Penguin, 2012), 144.
5
Okwu, In Truth for Justice and Honor, 278.
The following reasons, and apparently the only ones given by the
Chairman of the Committee, for the adoption of the Arusha Declara-
tion as their model for Ahiara formulation would seem to suggest an
obvious cursory attitude to the whole concept and articulation of the
treatise, which is reproduced here:
1 The importance of Julius Nyerere in Africa at that time was
immense.
2 Nyerere particularly caught the attention of African scholars
because he stood for the things we believed in: equality, self-
determination, and respect for human values.
3 I particularly like how he drew inspiration from traditional Afri-
can values and philosophy.
4 He was admired by all of us not just because of his reputation as
an incorruptible visionary leader endowed with admirable ideo-
logical positions; but also because he had shown great solidarity
for our cause.
5 He was, after all, the first African Head of State to recognize
Biafra.6
It is not easy to accept the given rationale as purposeful for the choice of
a model for a serious manifesto. It is probable that some of the members
of the writers of the Declaration held the view that they were ‘brought
up to believe they were destined to rule’.7 They, therefore, produced their
all-purpose charter for Biafra’s governance and cultural transformation
summarily, without any study of their model and without the consul-
tation and input of experienced and wise politicians, and the counsel
of learned constitutional experts. There was no proof or evidence that
their model of choice worked in its own home base or served its popu-
lace sufficiently well for it to be attractive and relevant to Biafra.
General Philip Effiong, the former Chief of Staff of the Biafran Army,
who had a strained relationship with President Ojukwu, had serious
concerns about the leader’s consuming solicitude for the Biafran liter-
ary personalities. The former Chief of Staff stated: ‘Throughout the
crisis period and the War, Ojukwu had one basic problem that colored most
of his thinking and actions. It was, perhaps, best describable as his preoc-
cupation with chasing after “intellectual knick-knacks”.’8
The Ahiara Declaration, as popular as it might have sounded to the
people, seemed like the product of the overindulgence with political games
and intellectual exercises that resulted in the selection of a model for
the social transformation of Biafra on the basis of emotional and non-
empirical considerations. The choice, instead, should have been based
on practical and socio-economic reasons such as the cultural, political,
6
Achebe, There Was a Country, 145.
7
Ibid., 108.
8
Philip Efiong, Nigeria and Biafra: My Story (Princeton: Sungai, 2004), 335, emphasis
added.
9
Ibid.
10
Kalu Ogbaa, General Ojukwu: The Legend of Biafra (New York: Triatlantic Books, 2007),
xvii.
11
Ibid., 317, emphasis added.
African Socialism
Léopold Sédar Senghor postulated in his work, Man, that human
beings remain the first consideration of government: ‘He constitutes
our measure’.12 Kwame Nkrumah’s Philosophical Consciencism accepts
some principles of Marxist scientific socialism based on African tradi-
tional patterns. According to Nkrumah, the new philosophy will pro-
vide the theoretical basis for an ideology whose aim shall be to contain
the African experience of Islam and Euro-Christian presence as well as
experience of traditional African society.13 Mzee Jomo Kenyatta in his
non-ideological stand, promoted the idea of local individuals pulling
together in self-help developments: Harambee, a Kiswahili word for ‘pull
together!’ Kenneth Kaunda, a Christian of great emotional intensity, in
the book, A Humanist in Africa, expressed the love of man and Christian-
oriented governance system in Africa.14 None of these prescriptions
transformed the people of their countries.
Nyerere’s Arusha formulations were in response to the social realities
and economic exigencies of his country, Tanzania. The nation that he
had inherited from Britain in 1961, Tanganyika (merged with Zanzibar
to form Tanzania in 1964), was a state in which the majority of the
people were poor and uneducated. The few educated and well-to-do
were Indian, Asian, Arab, and European-Tanganyikan citizens who
looked down on the poor and uneducated African citizens. Tanganyika,
like most of the other East and Central African nations, had a large
settler population unlike Biafra and the other West African states that
did not have that problem. There was also in Tanganyika the issue of
Christian and Muslim populations with the latter slightly in the major-
ity and also culturally more dominant and economically better off than
the Christian Africans.
The stress for Nyerere did not end there. The small African-educated
group, mostly Christians, had important government positions. They
were, however, drawn from only three out of the over 120 ethnic
groups in the country. They were the Wahaya, the Wanyakusa, and
the Wachaga with whom the Christian missionaries succeeded, and
built schools, while the British colonial government, a reluctant
foster father and trustee administrator, neglected to build schools in
the country but preferred to do so in Kenya. Tanzania, indeed, was a
colonial-deprived orphan. The socio-economic and political situation
in Tanzania presented real serious dangers that could be exploited for
possible ethnic animosities between the African communities, religious
12
Léopold Sédar Senghor, African Socialism (London and Dunmow: Pall Mall Press, 1962),
64–65.
13
Kwame Nkrumah, Consciencism (London: Heinemann, 1964), 70.
14
Kenneth D. Kaunda and Colin M. Morris, A Humanist in Africa (London: Longmans, Green
and Co., 1967).
tension between the religious groups, and a racial split between the
African and the non-African citizens because of economic and wealth
disparities. None of these serious situations existed in Biafra. It was
obviously humiliating and self-diminishing, to be a ‘have not’ in one’s
own community where the non-indigenous citizens owned most if not
all the businesses, and at the same time, or as a result, humiliated and
looked down upon the Africans. Nyerere saw this situation in his coun-
try. Evidently, for him and his people, egalitarianism and socialism were
tailor-made solutions to the problems that he had inherited with the
independence of his country.
culture and the characters of the present age within the paradigms of
organized philanthropy and humanitarianism both in the public and
private domains.
15
Okwu, In Truth for Justice and Honor, 198.
16
Ogbaa, General Ojukwu, 295.
17
Ibid., 293.
18
Ibid., 295.
19
Ibid., 297–299.
Biafra. The representatives were only being advised, he pointed out, only
for them to use it at their presentations and meetings with their host
governments. I demurred and appreciated Professor Cookey’s’ reserva-
tion. The war ended six months after the discussion, and I found some
support by the comment of Carl von Rosen, a Swedish humanitarian,
who, at the risk of his own life, operated humanitarian flights during
the war into Uli under the auspices of the Geneva-based International
Committee of the Red Cross. He told The Times of London in February
1970 that it was the threatening of entrenched interests by the Decla-
ration that finally led to the deliberate sabotage of the war efforts from
within Biafra and caused its fall.20
The General, at his address introducing the Declaration on June
1, 1969, provided the answer to the inevitable question, which most
people avoided to ask, about the launching of the program in the middle
of a cruel civil war. Here is his reasoning:
Are we going to watch the very disease which caused the demise of Nigeria
take root in our new Biafra? Are we prepared to embark on another revolu-
tion perhaps more blood to put right the inevitable disaster? I ask you, my
countrymen, can we afford another spell of strife when this one is over to
correct social inequalities in our Fatherland? I say NO. A thousand times no.
The ordinary Biafran says no. When I speak of the ordinary Biafran, I speak
of the People. The Biafran Revolution is the People’s Revolution.21
Regardless of the concerns and anxieties about the ongoing devas-
tating war with its daily deadly consequences, the General insisted on
his formulation to correct the ‘social inequalities in our Fatherland’. He
knew Biafra was losing the war and would lose the war in the end. But
still he considered the second revolution the right thing to talk about
because the ongoing war situation was the opportune moment to cor-
rect the social inequalities in the Biafran native soil. To do otherwise,
according to him, was to postpone the evil day and to engage in another
revolution that would perhaps cause more bloodshed.
What was left of Biafra by June 1969 was fairly politically united. By
the time the Declaration was introduced there was, however, consid-
erable suffering in the land: hunger, scarcity of food, medicine, essen-
tials such as salt and flour, and living and hiding in the bush to escape
Nigerian air raids and strafing. There were refugees everywhere with
no privacy and no security, destruction of homes, businesses, crops
and plants, sickness especially among malnourished children, abuse of
the use of arms/planes for foreign trade by some people with access to
the leadership, hoarding of money and foodstuffs and selling them at
inflated prices, nepotism and favoritism in the sharing and distribution
of the available food and relief-aid materials, and ‘attack-trade’ by some
20
Okwu, In Truth for Justice and Honor, 205, 277.
21
Ogbaa, General Ojukwu, 293.
soldiers who preferred trading to fighting. These were not unusual war
problems. Every war has its own problems that should be dealt with
administratively. The war complications and suffering should not have
been characterized as ‘Nigerianisms’.
The irregularities, some by highly placed Biafrans, should not have
led to a wholesale cultural transformation treatise. Most of the social
inequalities of the period were caused by the war and did not need a
more serious and urgent separate program to resolve them than more
attention and concentration on ending the war. It was the war that
brought about the refugee situation and famine, destruction of farm-
ing crops, businesses, homes, and people’s lives. The General, however,
had to accentuate the need to end the social evils in order to assure the
people of his awareness of their problems. The war was evidently not
going well. Biafra and the war only lasted six months from the date of
the launching of the Declaration. As the Head of State, he was not to
give the bad news that the war was not going well for Biafra. But instead
he had to maneuver them to something more palatable and more con-
soling: the correction of the social inequalities in the land of which
most of them were victims.
The General affirmed in his speech that the people wanted the revolu-
tion, and that they were already fighting and dying to defend what they
heard for the first time at that moment in history. It is difficult to com-
prehend unless one assumes that he had regarded the Ahiara Declara-
tion and the ongoing war to salvage the revolution of the separation
of Biafra from Nigeria as one and the same. The obvious controversy
over the two separate major developments – the emergence of Biafra
and the war that it triggered, and the enunciation of the Ahiara for-
mulation – could be seen yet as another deflection-strategy from the
people’s concentration on the miseries of the war, to their fascination
for the prescriptions. On the whole, the Ahiara Declaration seemed like
a convenient anodyne from the General to the people. He intended at
that juncture of the war to lure the suffering people to some sense of
comfort and relief, the unrealistic hope of a future state where there
were no discriminations based on sex, tribe, religion, or ‘fatherland divi-
sions’, and where there was no corruption, but a State that would be the
‘fountain of justice’ for all and sundry and where the state guaranteed
employment to all able to work. The General would want these as his
legacy to the people. If he lost the war, as he did, the people would still
remember him for the dream.
Despite the General’s double entendre, he still tried to reassure the
people that the Biafran Revolution, along with the ongoing military
conflict, and the proposed cultural reformation were separate and apart.
He accordingly affirmed to them that ‘immediate concern is to defeat
the Nigerian aggressor and so safeguard the Biafran Revolution’.22
22
Ibid., 295.
The Principles
Every war creates its own peculiar problems and human tragedies that
need to be addressed where humanly possible by the leadership. The
solution to the hardships in 1969 Biafra, obviously, should have been
in the realistic appraisal and review of the military strategies and in
governmental directives, and targeted actions on those hardship and
problem areas. It should certainly not have been by the introduction of
the Declaration – the Principles of the Biafran Revolution – a political
program equivalent to killing a gnat with a sledge hammer. The pro-
motion and creation of a political and suitable environment for imple-
mentation, nurturing support, and dealing with the public response
and reaction to the Declaration – the ‘Biafranization’ formula of the
people – usually would not be a short-term project but a series of long
and arduous experimentations. The fundamental transformation of
the culture and lifestyle of a people is not easy. During the war, condi-
tions were in disarray with a complicated and damaged administrative
system operated in a makeshift, downgraded, and uncertain environ-
ment. The future was uncertain, and the absence of a political party
made the introduction of the Declaration difficult to comprehend and
even more difficult to implement, if it were a serious formulation and
not merely political posturing.
One has to be alive first before one can think about an idyllic society
and culture. On the whole, the Declaration seemed like dressing up in
one’s best clothes with no place to go. In summary, the principles of the
Declaration were:
23
Ibid., 300–301.
24
Ibid., 281.
25
Ibid., 295–298.
26
Ibid., 297.
future. It also was politically wise to speak about individual rights, usu-
ally guaranteed and sustained by the vigilance of the government but
often in peril in times of war. The Ahiara Declaration, in this regard, was
a step forward for the people, at least in attempting to restore their faith
in the government’s belief that they, the people, mattered. The Head of
State, the shrewd politician, probably thought seriously about it, and
ensured that the Declaration provided for it.
27
Ibid., 300.
28
Ibid.
29
Ibid.
An Egalitarian Society
In the words of the Declaration, ‘The Biafran Revolution is creating a
society not torn by class consciousness and class antagonisms. Biafran
society is traditionally egalitarian.’ The formulation continued:
The New Society is open and progressive … We are adaptable because as a
people we are convinced that in the world ‘no condition is permanent’ …
30
Ibid., 301.
In this process of rapid transformation he will retain and cherish the best
elements of his culture, drawing sustenance as well as moral and psycho-
logical stability from them.31
The Igbo culture has always been open, progressive, and generally
inclusive. The formulation’s emphasis on the culture of the ‘New Soci-
ety’ was, however, a political overreach that underplayed the existent
Igbo culture by ignoring it, and by overselling what was hoped for
but had yet to be realized: ‘The New Society’. As a result, there was
an unnecessary display of concern over giving more social respect to
the wealthy crook than the poor honest man. The point that appeared
to have been forgotten was the fact that, in Igboland, the people were
commonly raised to be honest. Celebrating what was expected, such as
honesty, was uncommon. Achievement with wealth, on the contrary,
was uncommon. Celebrating it, even when it was tarnished, should
therefore be seen for what it really was. It should not be magnified for
the support of the majority poor. This cultural irritant should, however,
be left for the Ezes – the potentates of the autonomous communities –
and for the state governors to resolve.
Egalitarian Igboland provides for a fluid cultural structure in which
everyone has a share of social obeisance. There are the time-honored
acknowledgments for the Diokpa, Opara, Dee, Dede, Nwaada, Ulu, Ndaa,
Dada, Oha, Okoro, and Mazi. No well-raised Igbo will call his/her senior
in age by his/her first name. It is as reviled as a mark of poor upbring-
ing, but it is a phenomenon that is rising in contemporary Nigeria.
The egalitarian Biafra did not imply that the people nurtured anti-
monarchy feelings. After all, it was an Igbo ex-slave, Jubo Juboha of
Amaigbo, Orlu, famously known as Ja Ja of Opobo, who founded the
eponymous Kingdom of Opobo at the mouth of the Imo River in the
late nineteenth century. The word Eze, or monarch in Igboland, is the
epitome for excellence, the best of the land, such as Ezenna, Ezenne,
Ezenwa, Ezenwoke, Ezenwanyi, Ezeani, Ezeala, Ezeaku, Ezeako, Ezewuru,
Ezewuihe, and Ezebuenyi. Eze, in political and administrative terms, is the
person in whom the last decision rests in the community. The statement,
Igbo enwegh Eze (the Igbo have no monarch), means that the Igbo, as a
group, have no one monarch for all the Igbo throughout Igboland.
The concept, form, shape, power, authority, influence, and attributes
of monarchs and monarchies differ, as they should, all over the world.
Monarchies explain, in most cases, the origin, the history, and the rise
of the demesnes and their peoples as well as their character, psychol-
ogy, attitudes to government, governance, politics, war, peace, physical
environment, and the neighbors and the other polities around. Monar-
chies also have many forms and levels, such as absolute, conventional,
hereditary, constitutional, limited, muted, ritual, and even kingless.
31
Ibid., 301–302.
32
Augustine S.O. Okwu, Igbo Culture and the Christian Missions 1857–1957: Conversion in
Theory and Practice (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2009), 13–14, 30–35,
65–68.
Deductions
Essentially, the introduction of the Ahiara Declaration, even as a vision
for the expected New Biafra, was simply an unfinished intellectual
exercise. It was far from a reasoned and crucial ideology for the cul-
tural transformation, social and economic development for the trau-
matized populace of Biafra. The deductions derive from the following
considerations.
1 By June 1969, Biafra was still in the throes of a losing war, having
lost over 95 percent of its territory as well as all its major towns
and cities. For whom then was the Declaration since the people
would soon be reunited with Nigeria?
2 There was no demonstrated need for the socialist aspects of the
Declaration. Almost all aspects of business and industry in the
state were already owned by either the Biafran Government and
its people or by the Federal Government during the period. Gen-
eral Ojukwu’s administration had of course taken over the Uni-
versity of Nigeria from Dr Nnamdi Azikiwe, its founder, early in
1966 to the annoyance and disappointment of the Igbo foremost
leader.
3 There were, in fact, no foreign exploiters in Biafra and there was
never any incident of resentment or agitation about ‘native’
exploitation in Biafra. The foreign oil companies producing
petroleum and gas in Biafra were under the Nigerian Army by
June 1969.
4 If there were any noticeable agitations against ‘native’ exces-
sive acquisition of wealth, it could have been in Northern Nige-
ria against the Biafrans themselves, especially against the Igbo
because of their progress and wealth in the Northern Region of
Nigeria.
5 General Ojukwu’s father himself had considerable wealth and
landed property located mostly outside Biafra. But no one both-
ered his father and his businesses in the various regions of Nige-
ria. One therefore might be tempted to ask whether the General
was attempting an economic suicide.
6 Biafra and Igboland are the homestead of capitalists. It would
have been advisable for the struggling nation to attract badly
needed foreign investment to rebuild the war-ravaged economy.
Would it not have better served the people if the planners had
maintained the people as what they really were, and still are –
capitalists – rather than attempt to transform them into what
they never were – socialists?
7 The members of the committee that crafted the Ahiara Decla-
ration were recognized inside and outside of Biafra as learned,
well respected, and esteemed people. However, it seemed the
Conclusion
The Ahiara Declaration embodied the birth, mission, and struggle of
Biafra – and the root cause of its problems. These problems included
racism, the indifference of the European former colonial powers, the
open hostility of Britain, the connivance and participation of some
of the Arab and Muslim world, and the wickedness of the revisionist
Russian imperialism toward Biafra. Despite the odds and the obvious
impending fall of Biafra, six months after June 1, 1969, General Ojukwu
remained ambivalent, doubting himself whether the Declaration was
purposeful while reassuring the people of ‘our victory, the fulfillment
of our dream’ which ‘is very much in sight’.33 He also saw Biafra as one
of the modern African states and accordingly launched the Principles
of the Revolution, which dealt with issues such as social justice, right
to work, sovereignty, brotherly love, patriotism, self-reliance, and trans-
parency and accountability in public service. These political and emo-
tional issues were clearly intended to reenergize the people and rekindle
their support for the leader and for the war – a war that caused, and was
still causing at that time, unimaginable miseries and prolonged refugee-
ism, only the first in a long series of hardships in the lives of the people
of Biafra. The Declaration should have ended without the enunciation
of the Principles of Socialism that were, obviously, not needed in Biafra-
land – especially at that stage of the cruel war.
The General was fully aware of the hopelessness of the war situation
at that time. In his 1969 entry in the Timeline: Key Dates in the Life of
Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu, he clearly sums up the situation as
follows:
33
Ogbaa, General Ojukwu, 317.
34
Ibid., xvii.
35
Ibid., 301.
36
Colin Legum and John Drysdale, eds, Africa Contemporary Record: Annual Survey and Docu-
ments 1969–1970 (Exeter: African Research, 1970), 554; Okwu, In Truth for Justice and
Honor, 216–219.
– not talk of battles lost and entertain the idea of possible defeat. Such
was the case with Biafra’s proud and self-confident General Chukwue-
meka Odumegwu Ojukwu.
Because of the war situation, the Declaration was prepared in haste
and without prerequisite investigations. Ahiara’s political objectives
and focus were principally to reenergize the people and to redirect
them from despair to hope for a new Biafra of new opportunities and
new values. Tactically, the formulations should have been limited to
those crucial emotional solicitudes of the time. The extension of the
prescriptions of the manifesto to socialist and egalitarian ideological
pronouncements diminished in many ways the brilliant and original
thinking of the Biafran leadership. Clearly, the Declaration won Biafra
no friends abroad and lost it friends at home. Predictably, Biafra lost
the war six months later. Its overall social and cultural transformative
impact and the public reception of and the reaction to it in a civilian
and non-military culture and environment cannot be determined since
its implementation was aborted by events beyond Biafra’s control.
Bukola A. Oyeniyi
Introduction
On May 30, 1967, when Colonel Emeka Odumegwu Ojukwu, the head
of the Eastern Region, declared the independent Republic of Biafra,
no-one knew that the resultant war would lead to the death, mostly by
starvation, of about a million people. The war, which almost tore Nige-
ria apart, began effectively in July, almost seven years after Nigeria’s
independence from Great Britain. The Biafran forces recorded early suc-
cesses, but Nigerian troops immediately pushed them back. No sooner
had the war started than photographs of starving children with huge
distended stomachs adorned television screens and the front pages of
newspapers.
As studies have shown, the circumstances that led to the war could
not be divorced from the spate of violence that erupted between Hausa
and Igbos in Northern Nigeria following the first military coup of 1966.
The violence prompted thousands of Igbos to flee Northern Nigeria.
Nigeria’s military government failed to guarantee security for them
and, on May 30, 1967, Lieutenant Colonel Odumegwu Ojukwu, with
the active support of other non-Igbo representatives in Eastern Nigeria,
declared secession and established the Republic of Biafra.
All diplomatic efforts to reunite the Eastern Region with the rest of
Nigeria failed, and in July 1967 war broke out between Nigeria and
Biafra. As already noted, an initial success of Ojukwu’s ragtag forces
was promptly pushed back, and the forces eventually capitulated under
superior military strength of the Nigerian state. On January 11, 1970,
the Nigerian forces captured the provincial capital of Owerri, one of the
last Biafran strongholds. Ojukwu, the leader of the insurgents, fled to
neighboring Ivory Coast. Four days later, Biafra surrendered and the
war ended. The civil war not only came close to tearing Nigeria apart
but also provoked passions in different parts of the world, most espe-
cially the United States of America and Britain.
In addition to about 30,000 Igbos who were killed in Northern
Nigeria before the war, more than 1 million other Igbos died in the war.
About another 1 million were either internally displaced within Eastern
111
1
Odia Ofeimun, ‘Awolowo and the Forgotten Documents of the Civil War’, Vanguard
newspaper (Lagos), October 28, 2012, www.vanguardngr.com/2012/10/the-
achebe-controversy-awolowo-and-the-forgotten-documents-of-the-civil-war-by-odia-
ofeimun/#sthash.gNleOOtj.dpuf (accessed November 6, 2014).
2
Barnaby Philips, ‘Biafra: Thirty Years On’, BBC News, January 13, 2000, http://news.
bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/596712.stm (accessed November 6, 2014).
dangerous policy, we didn’t intend the food for soldiers. But who will go
behind the line to stop the soldiers from ambushing the vehicles that were
carrying the food? And as long as soldiers were fed, the war will continue,
and who’ll continue to suffer? And those who didn’t go to the place to see
things as I did, you remember that all the big guns, all the soldiers in the
Biafran army looked all well fed after the war, its [sic] only the mass of the
people that suffered kwashiorkor.
You won’t hear of a single lawyer, a single doctor, a single architect, who
suffered from kwashiorkor? None of their children either, so they waylaid
the foods, they ambushed the vehicles and took the foods to their friends and
to their collaborators and to their children and the masses were suffering. So
I decided to stop sending the food there. In the process the civilians would
suffer, but the soldiers will suffer most.3
The tendency to trade blame, which began since the end of the war,
continues unabated to date. This chapter, far from apportioning either
responsibility or blame, seeks to know whether the civil war was justifi-
able or not, especially under the circumstance. The war, as many have
pointed out, is unjustifiable either for the government or for the Biafrans.
If, within a larger construct, civil wars are unjustifiable for government
and rebels, why then was Nigerian civil war inevitable? Given the cir-
cumstances of its occurrence, was the secession or the resultant civil
war avoidable?
As extant literature has shown, ‘freedom fighters’ are most likely to
argue that certain conditions make civil wars inevitable, while govern-
ments consider and treat civil wars as avoidable challenges to sover-
eignty of states. Hence, Ojukwu and his associates believed that the civil
war was inevitable while the military government considered the civil
war as unnecessary and Ojukwu and his cohorts as enemies and rebels
that must be destroyed at any cost. Given the massacre of the Igbos in
Northern Nigeria and the inability of the military government to control
the situation, it would be irresponsible of Ojukwu and other Igbo lead-
ers to acquiesce in the matter. For Ojukwu’s camp, objective grievances
existed that justified the civil war. For the government, Ojukwu was
misguided by his personal ambition. Given these diametrically opposed
views, how best do we understand and interpret the Biafran War? In
this chapter, I impose three analytical frameworks – the rational choice
theory, economic theory of conflict, and social conflict theory – on the
civil war in order to examine its justifiability and desirability. While not
pretending to provide a one-size-fits-all explanation to the civil war, the
chapter uses official documents, participants’ testimonies, and second-
ary literature to weave a narrative to understand the Nigerian Civil War
as a rational and conscious choice amidst many alternatives.
3
Obafemi Awolowo quoted in ‘Response of Late Pa Awolowo to the New Book of Chinua
Achebe There Was a Country’, CNN iReport, October 7, 2012, http://ireport.cnn.com/
docs/DOC-854578 (accessed November 6, 2014).
4
George Homans, Social Behaviour: Its Elementary Forms (London: Routledge and Kegan
Paul, 1961).
human behavior. In other words, the theory argues that the possibil-
ity of making a profit underlies all human actions – seen as conscious,
rational, and calculated towards making gains. Although the theory
has become increasingly mathematical in recent times, rational choice
theory is anchored on individuals’ and groups’ interests, wants, goals,
and desires. As it is impossible to attain all human wants and desires,
individuals and/or groups, therefore, make choices based both on their
goals and the means through which these goals are best attained. In
order to do this, individuals and groups must consider results of differ-
ent lines of action and decide on which would deliver the best results.
The products of the conscious and rational considerations are actions
and measures that are best capable of delivering the best result and
yield maximum satisfaction.
Intrinsic to rational choice theory is the belief that all actions and
reactions are fundamentally rational; hence, the theory gives no room
for any other kinds of actions or reactions except the purely rational
and calculated ones. From the smallest changes to complex social phe-
nomena, rational choice theory sees social change as a sum of individu-
als’ (or group’s) actions and interactions. Therefore, we can understand
complex social changes by understanding the behavior of individuals
that make up a group.
Rational choice theory’s obtuse fascination with individuals’ actions
and reactions has been criticized as deficient in explaining collective
actions and reactions. Put differently, if individuals’ actions are based
on calculations of personal profit, what then explains social norms that
impel selfless, philanthropic services? To critics, rational choice theory
is a reductionism which is unduly individualistic and fails to account for
larger social structures.5
Notwithstanding these and other criticisms, rational choice theory
is the cornerstone of game, social choice, and decision theories. As
Oppenheimer puts it, rational choice theory is a normative and empiri-
cal theory of individual behavior.6 It is also a formalized logical structure
which ties individual choices to preferences while underscoring choices
as teleological, if not purposeful, behavior. As a normative theory, it sets
parameters on how individuals ought to behave, especially in according
to prescribed values. On the whole, it explains individuals’ choices as
dependent on preferences, with causal linkages to normative presump-
tions and implications.
Although criticized as a form of reductionism, rational choice theory
is built on a foundational presumption that explains individual behavior
5
Gary Browning, Abigail Halcli, and Frank Webster, eds, Understanding Contemporary Soci-
ety: Theories of the Present (London: Sage, 2000).
6
Joe Oppenheimer, Principles of Politics: A Rational Choice Theory Guide to Politics and Social
Justice (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 15.
7
Geoffrey M. Hodgson, ‘On the Limits of Rational Choice Theory’, Economic Thought, 1
(2012), 94–108. See also Alfred S. Eichner, ed., Why Economics is Not Yet a Science (Ar-
monk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, 1983); Corry Azzi and Ronald Ehrenberg, ‘Household Allocation
of Time and Church Attendance’, Journal of Political Economy, 83:1 (1975), 27–56.
8
Duncan Black, The Theory Of Committees and Elections (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1958); Gary E. Bolton and Axel Ockenfels, ‘ERC: A Theory of Equity, Reciprocity,
and Competition’, American Economic Review, 90:1 (2000),166–93; David Braybrooke,
Meeting Needs (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1987); Gillian Brock, ‘Needs
and Global Justice’. in Soran Reader, ed., The Philosophy of Need (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2005), 51–72.
9
Paul Collier and Nicholas Sambanis, eds, Understanding Civil War: Evidence and Analysis
(Washington DC: World Bank, 2005).
10
Paul Collier and Anke Hoeffler, ‘Greed and Grievances in Civil War’, Oxford Economic
Papers 56 (2004), 567–570.
11
S.C. and J.S. Padgitt, ‘Cognitive Structure of Sexual Harassment’, in Journal of College Stu-
dent Personnel, 27:1 (1986), 34–39.
contribute to our understanding of the civil war, the next section offers
a brief account of the war.
12
Okwudiba Nnoli, Ethnic Politics in Nigeria (Enugu: Fourth Dimension Publishers, 1980).
13
Esko Toyo, West African Pilot (Lagos), January 1, 1965, 4.
14
Joe Igbokwe, Igbos, 25 Years after Biafra (Lagos: Advent Communications, 1995), 12–13.
North grew out of control, and defenseless Igbo people fled in thousands
to the East. Ironsi’s inquiry was never held, and he was killed in a bloody
coup orchestrated by Hausa officers on July 29, 1966. Ironsi and his
host, the Governor of Western Region, Lt Colonel Benjamin Adekunle
Fajuyi, were murdered in Ibadan. Following Ironsi’s murder, hundreds
of other Igbo officers were savagely murdered in different military for-
mations in Northern Nigeria.
Lt Colonel Yakubu Gowon, the new Head of State, immediately
called for a constitutional conference in order to rein in the situation,
foster unity, and restore the nation. He was, however, unable to control
the passion of northerners as more and more Igbo officers and civil-
ians were attacked. Colonel Ojukwu, the Military Governor of Eastern
Region who voiced his refusal to recognize Gowon as the new Head of
State, unequivocally declared on August 27, 1966: ‘there is in fact no
genuine basis for true unity’.15 He subsequently ordered Igbo repre-
sentatives at the national conference to withdraw. Ojukwu made it clear
that given the killing of Igbos in Northern Nigeria and the inability of
the government to bring the situation under control, the Igbos would
secede from Nigeria.
International efforts, especially by the Organization of African Unity
(now the African Union) and meetings in Kampala, Adis Ababa, and
Aburi, Ghana, failed to bring about peace between Ojukwu and Gowon.
Gowon’s refusal to abide by the agreement reached at Aburi, especially
the payment of debt owed to the Eastern Region by the Federal Gov-
ernment and the suspension of Decree No. 8, also known as the Con-
stitution Suspension and Modification Decree of 1967, was premised
on the fact that majority of the agreements would enhance Ojukwu’s
war efforts. It was clear that Ojukwu was already preparing for a war.
As later events would reveal, Gowon was also advised by Great Britain
and the United States of America against abiding by the Aburi Accord,
as Ojukwu was receiving enormous military and other supports from
France, Ivory Coast, and other nations.16
Rather than following through on the decisions reached at Aburi,
Gowon dissolved the regions and announced the creation of 12 states
from the ashes of the erstwhile four regions. In turn, Ojukwu announced
the secession of the Eastern Region from Nigeria and announced the
birth of the independent state of Biafra.
As Karl von Clausewitz noted, ‘war is not merely of itself a politi-
cal act, but serves as a real political instrument for the achievement
of certain ends’.17 For Ojukwu and Gowon, the dissolution of regions
15
A.H.M. Kirk-Greene, Crisis and Conflict in Nigeria: A Documentary Source Book, 1966–1970
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971), 167.
16
Ibid., 197.
17
Clausewitz as cited in Ivan A. Shearer, Starke’s International Law, 11th Edition (London:
Butterworths, 1994), 480.
and creation of states, as well as the civil war, were undoubtedly means
to different ends. For Gowon, the creation of states would undermine
Ojukwu’s power and the new leaders of the newly created states would
cling to their new powers. Ojukwu was unequivocal when he declared,
‘what you are seeing now is the end of a long journey. It began in the far
north of Nigeria, and moved steadily southwards as we were driven out
of place after place.’18 While for Ojukwu, the civil war was ‘the final act
of sacrifice that easterners would be called upon to make in the interest
of Nigerian unity’,19 for Gowon, it was a mere police action intended to
flush out a rebel group. After an initial success, the Federal forces suc-
cessfully crushed the secession, Ojukwu fled, and the war ended after
some 30 months of action.
Important works have come to light on the civil war, with a great
majority apportioning blame.20 One question that eludes most of the
literature is whether or not the civil war was avoidable. This chapter,
far removed from the blame-apportioning literature, seeks to show
how best to understand and explain the war. As demonstrated in the
next section, the three analytical frameworks discussed in the previ-
ous section could help in shedding more and useful insights into the
civil war, which go beyond the rhetoric of the various actors and their
sympathizers.
18
Kirk-Greene, Crisis and Conflict in Nigeria, 197.
19
Ministry of Information, Republic of Biafra, The Case of Biafra (June 12, 1968), 13.
20
Notable examples include Chinua Achebe, There Was a Country: A Personal History of Bia-
fra (New York: Penguin, 2012); Alexander A. Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution and the
Biafran War (Enugu: Fourth Dimension, 2000); Alfred Uzokwe, Surviving in Biafra: The
Story of the Nigerian Civil War – Over Two Million Died (Lagos: Writers Advantage, 2003);
Peter Baxter, Biafra: The Nigerian Civil War 1967–1970 (Ontario: Helion, 2014); Phillip
Efiong, Nigeria and Biafra: My Story (Lagos: Sungai, 2003); Frederick Forsyth, The Biafra
Story: The Making of an African Legend (New York: Pen and Sword, 2007); Frederick For-
syth, Emeka (Lagos: Spectrum, 1991).
considered the best course of action capable of delivering the best pos-
sible result. Given this, two issues have to be determined in relation to
the civil war. Firstly, what were the objectives of Ojukwu and the Igbo
people? Inexorably tied to this question is the need to ascertain where
there could be variance or congruence between a leader’s goal and a
group’s goal. One must also be careful not to conflate a leader’s goal
with a group’s goal. This is important, as it is common in politics and
history for a leader to impose his or her personality, will, and objectives
on a group in ways that make an individual’s goal the group’s goal. To
this end, what was Ojukwu’s objective? What was the Igbo objective?
Could one be conflated with the other? There is no point examining an
alternative situation: a situation whereby there is a variance between a
leader’s objective and group objectives. Usually, where this happens, the
leader loses all power to lead, a situation that was absent in the Nigerian
Civil War.
The second issue is as complex and nuanced as the first. On the
one hand, what alternative course of action was open to Ojukwu, as
an individual, a soldier, and as the leader of the Igbos in attaining his
objective? On the other hand, what alternative course of action was
open to the Igbos in attaining the group’s objective? Where there is a
synergy between a leader and a group objective, could the same alter-
native course of action attain the individual and group’s objectives?
Undoubtedly, these questions are complex and not easily answered.
While there are indications that Ojukwu encouraged atypical conflict
with the choice of Gowon as a Head of State after the coup that ousted
Aguiyi-Ironsi,21 there is little doubt that the persecution and death that
Hausa/Fulani meted out to Igbo people across Northern Nigeria before
the civil war reflected broader aims. Ojukwu’s refusal to recognize Gow-
on’s leadership shows an individualized goal, which could therefore
signify a personal objective. As for the Igbo, persecution and death led
to an exodus from Northern Nigeria to the Eastern Region, which cre-
ated serious management crises for the Ojukwu-led government. The
dislocation, insecurity, death, and destruction of the Igbos following the
first coup are indicative of an objective grievance.
As noted above, Ojukwu’s statement that the civil war was a culmi-
nation of multiple activities and an end of a long journey that started in
the far North of Nigeria and moved steadily southwards pointed to his
conflation of personal objective with the Igbo’s need for security of lives
and property following the crises in the North. An alternative reading of
this development is that Ojukwu’s objective resonated or coincided with
Igbos’ needs. This second reading amounts to a mere excuse: without
the crises and persecution of the Igbo in the North, it would have been
21
Toyin Falola and Ann Genova, Historical Dictionary of Nigeria (Plymouth, UK: Scarecrow
Press, 2009), xxxviii; see also Charles Hauss, Comparative Politics: Domestic Responses to
Global Challenges (Stamford, CT: Cengage, 2013), 401.
impossible for them to support any secessionist bid. In other words, the
perception that the first coup was an Igbo coup that culminated in the
second coup plot created an uncommon situation whereby a leader’s
objective coheres with that of his group; hence, it becomes difficult
to separate what was a personal issue from a group problem. In this
atypical situation, obedience and support for secession seem willingly
obtained whereas the objectives were at variance.
In relation to his personal objective, were there any alternative
courses of action open to Ojukwu other than war? In strict military
terms, he had two courses of action open to him. He could resign his
position or face a court-martial as his actions, in purely military terms,
amounted only to planning a coup, the punishment for which was
death. As a young military officer at the beginning of his career, resign-
ing might not be a feasible option for Ojukwu; hence, only secession
offers the kind of opportunity that many young and educated men of
the time desire.22
As far as the Igbo are concerned, was secession the only course of
action? Owing to the fact that the events following the crises in North-
ern Nigeria are far removed from us today, one could only surmise that
secession was not the only option and that there were other alterna-
tives. Contrary to Ojukwu’s sweeping remark that Igbo people were
persecuted from North to South, there is no record to support any claim
that Igbo people were persecuted in other parts of Nigeria before the
civil war except in Northern Nigeria. In fact, many Igbo traders fled to
Lagos and Ibadan, among other southwestern cities, and it was, indeed,
the secession that led to the flight of many Igbos from the Western
Region to Eastern Region.
From the above, it could be argued that two clear-cut alternatives
other than secession were open to the Igbo. The first was relocation to
other parts of Nigeria outside of the Eastern Region. The second was
relocation to the Eastern Region. Relocation to the Eastern Region was,
undoubtedly, a natural and instinctual reaction, which was borne out
of the human need for self-protection and self-preservation through
falling back on the familiar. Had Ojukwu not declared secession, a large
number of Igbo traders who fled homeward instinctually would still
have migrated elsewhere after the initial shock had worn off. In addi-
tion, Igbos who fled from the Western Region did so not because they
were persecuted but because of the newly created Biafran state. Lurk-
ing in between these points is the fact that, for the Igbos, alternatives
to flight to the Eastern Region and to civil war existed. It could also be
argued that the desire (or hope) for gains accruable from the Biafran
state served as an impetus for driving many Igbos from different parts
of Nigeria to the Eastern Region and not essentially persecution, which
22
Achebe, There Was a Country, 39–50.
supporters do not fit into neat categories. To begin with, there were three
categories of Igbos: Igbos in Eastern Region, persecuted and trauma-
tized Igbos from Northern Nigeria, and fleeing Igbos from other parts of
Nigeria. As noted above, the experiences and impetus for flight differed
remarkably for the last two categories. The first category also suffered
from the developments in the North and the flight of others from other
parts of Nigeria. As common in all complex humanitarian emergencies,
resources quickly ran low, leaving both the returnees and their hosts
in abject poverty. Faced with dwindling government support, land and
housing were desperately needed. Food resources quickly dried up.
Inadequate housing and increasing pressure on land resources
presented enormous administrative, social, and economic problems.
Ojukwu was not prepared for any of these and his government could
not provide any meaningful responses to these problems. As later
intelligence showed, rather than using the resources available to him,
Ojukwu diverted federal funding and other allocations to the region into
preparing for a war. In other words, rather than meeting the immediate
needs of the Igbo people, Ojukwu armed them for a war. The result was
hunger and death. In other words, food shortages, malnourishment,
and death had started killing people even before the war started.
The last category, the non-Igbo in the Eastern Region government
and House of Assembly who supported the secession, did so for gain.
What objective grievance could have impelled this last category to sup-
port secession and the resultant civil war? What alternative course of
action was open to this last category of supporters? First, they were
members of minority groups in the Eastern Region and joining forces
with Ojukwu rather than Nigeria would place them in a position of
power. Hence, the most logical alternative course of action was to join
the group where their interests would best be served than remaining
where their minority status was more pronounced. This factor played a
vital role in the ease with which these groups capitulated under Gowon.
In other words, they realized their gains before Ojukwu’s war started
and found it easier to change allegiance once it is clear that Ojukwu was
not going to win the war.
As far as the Federal Military Government is concerned, Aguiyi-
Ironsi, and later Gowon, failed to provide security for the Igbos in North-
ern Nigeria. After they fled home, Gowon’s government failed to ensure
that the immediate needs of the Igbos were provided. Aguiyi-Ironsi left
little doubt that he would not wield the big stick by court-martialing
those who plotted the coup. This cluelessness and political insensitivity
earned him death and created a situation whereby the first coup was
seen as an Igbo coup. Gowon, as an individual, may have had other
ambitions, but as the processes that brought him into power revealed,
he headed a group on a mission of revenge. The primary objective of
his government was not only to preserve the nation’s territory, but also
to avenge the death of the northern politicians. This objective blinded
23
Nicholas Sambanis, Expanding Economic Models of Civil War Using Case Studies, www.poli-
tics.as.nyu.edu/docs/IO/4744/ns1110.pdf (accessed January 7, 2015).
which, for the federal government, tried to preserve the nation’s terri-
tory, was just and unavoidable. In the light of this, Ojukwu and the Bia-
frans could be described as profit seekers who took advantage of a bad
situation to realize profits. This bad situation undoubtedly justified civil
violence or war if federal and regional governments failed to respond.
Just as no nation would watch its territories dismembered, no nation
would, by proxy, fund a war to dismember it. To the extent that Ojukwu
was preparing for a war, it would be foolhardy for a government to
continue to inject resources to the Eastern Region. Just as ineffectual
responses to death, displacement, and complex humanitarian emergen-
cies in Eastern Nigeria were critical errors in judgment, the rational and
conscious choice of secession must not be divorced from any attendant
responsibilities. In the case of Nigeria, these attendant responsibilities
include the civil war, starvation, displacement, and death attending the
civil war.
Wale Adebanwi
Introduction
Before the first shots were fired by professional soldiers in the Nigeria-
Biafra War (1967–1970), the issues at the center of the long-drawn
crisis of statehood and nationhood in Nigeria were narrated and con-
tested in the press. This is not surprising given that the press predated
the corporate existence of Nigeria by more than half a century. Given
the nature of the evolution of the newspaper press in the country
and the fact that the key political leaders and public intellectuals who
defined and largely determined the character of the emergent modern
public sphere in colonial Nigeria were almost always journalists and/or
newspaper proprietors, the press has been at the vortex of every impor-
tant battle concerning Nigeria’s history. Starting from the struggles
over the modern urban formation; to governance in Abeokuta, Benin,
Calabar, Lagos, and other areas near the coast; the interventions in colo-
nial policies; to the crusades over the proper structural and ideological
approaches to the interface of European Enlightenment and African
tradition, the early newspaper press in Nigeria could be described as
a battleground where ideological, cultural, and political ‘combatants’
took on one another.
As Nigeria approached independence between the early 1940s and
the late-1950s, all the major ethno-regional blocs and the political par-
ties representing these blocs seemed to have been united in recognizing
the important role of the newspaper press in the struggles for ideologi-
cal and cultural validation and political victories. In most cases, every
major political issue was thoroughly debated on the pages of newspa-
pers before they were either adopted or rejected. Examples include the
controversies over the best political system for Nigeria (unitarism or fed-
eralism), the best constitutional arrangement, the status of the capital
city (then Lagos), and the political economy of national unity. It is not a
surprise, therefore, that every major political gladiator, ethno-regional
*
A version of this chapter first appeared as Chapter 5 in Wale Adebanwi, Nation as Grand
Narrative: The Nigerian Press and the Politics of Meaning (Rochester, NY: University of
Rochester Press, 2016).
130
grouping, and political party in this era had its own ideological mouth-
piece: a newspaper. Each realized that the battle for the minds of men
and women must be fought alongside other battles. Even though the
bayonet and the pen are often contrasted in social history, in this chap-
ter, based on an examination of the newspaper archive, I argue for an
approach that takes the pen as ideological bayonet.
For many of the political gladiators in late colonial and early post-
colonial Nigeria, the battle for the minds of the people was, in fact, the
first battle that needed to be won. In the decade before independence,
the Northern Region, the Northern People’s Congress (NPC), and NPC
leaders, including Sir Ahmadu Bello and Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa,
had the Nigerian Citizen as their leading ideological warrior. The East-
ern Region, the National Council for Nigerian Citizens (NCNC), and its
pre-eminent leader Dr Nnamdi Azikiwe had the West African Pilot as
their mouthpiece. Azikiwe, owner of the Pilot, later became President
of Nigeria. The Western Region, the Action Group (AG), and its pre-
eminent leader Chief Obafemi Awolowo had the Daily Service and the
Nigerian Tribune. Awolowo owned the Tribune.
In the first decade of Nigeria’s independence, the political turmoil the
country experienced was largely defined by the press representing the
different groups, parties, and leaders. By this period, the New Nigerian
became the mouthpiece of the North, NPC, and Sir Bello, while the
Nigerian Tribune became the most important mouthpiece for the West,
AG, and Chief Awolowo. The West African Pilot remained the voice of
the East, the NCNC, and Dr Azikiwe.
In this chapter, I focus on the newspapers’ narratives of interregional,
inter-ethnic, and national political relations against the backdrop of the
collapse of the First Republic and the tension and contradictions that
led to the Civil War. I am focusing on this period to point out the critical
role of the press in not only narrating the challenges of national unity
but also in constructing, deconstructing, and exacerbating the crisis
that engulfed the young nation after some soldiers attempted to seize
power in January 1966.
1
Quoted in ‘First Coup: Nzeogwu’s Speech’, Vanguard, February 10, 2000, 30.
2
Ibid.
been listening to what I have been saying all the time would know that
I do not see a Central Government in Nigeria today.’3 The massacres of
the Igbo in the North that followed this change of government precipi-
tated a crisis that was hitherto unprecedented in Nigeria’s history. This
led to mass migration of the Igbo, not only from the Northern Region,
but also from other parts of Nigeria, back to their homestead in the East.
Several attempts were made to resolve the crisis and bring the
estranged Eastern Region back fully into the union. The most signifi-
cant were the Aburi (Ghana) meetings where the military governors
of the regions and Lagos together with the new head of state, Colonel
Yakubu Gowon, tried to come to a settlement.4 It is significant that at
Aburi, the role of the media in exacerbating the crisis was noted by the
military leaders. The following is an example of this:
Lt. Col. Gowon (Head of State): On the Government Informa-
tion Media. I think all the Government Information Media in the
country have done terribly bad [sic]. Emeka [Ojukwu] would say
the New Nigerian has been very unkind to the East …
Lt. Col. Ojukwu (Military Governor of Eastern Region): And the
[Morning] Post [owned by the federal government] which I pay
for.
Lt. Col. Gowon: Sometimes I feel my problem is not with
anyone but the [Eastern] Outlook [owned by the Eastern Region
Government].
Lt. Col. Ojukwu: All the other information media have done a
lot. When the Information Media in a country completely closed
their eyes to what was happening. I think it is a dangerous thing.
Major Johnson (Military Governor of Lagos): Let us agree it is the
situation.
Lt. Col. Ejoor (Military Governor of Mid-West Region): All of
them have committed one crime or the other.
Lt. Col. Hassan (Military Governor of Northern Region): The
Outlook is the worst of them.
Lt. Col. Ojukwu: The Outlook is not the worst, the Post which we
all in fact pay for is the worst followed closely by New Nigerian
[owned by the Northern Region Government].5
However, the efforts to reconcile the opposing regions based on the
Aburi Accord failed. On May 2, 1967, Ojukwu declared the secessionist
Republic of Biafra and the Nigeria-Biafra War started thereafter.
3
Quoted in ‘Attitudes at Aburi: How the Military Viewed Politicians’, Special Review Sec-
tion, Vanguard, February 15, 2000, 32.
4
Ibid.
5
Quoted in ‘Views and Counter Views at Aburi’, Vanguard, February 17, 2000, 30.
6
‘Road to Survival’, Morning Post, January 19, 1966 [hereafter MP].
7
Ibid.
8
Ibid.
steer her barque of state; such the Military Government now holds out
every promise of supplying.’9 In addition: ‘The new Government must
suspend all political activities. Without doing this, it cannot be sure that
it will get the atmosphere conducive to the re-planning that lies ahead.
The trouble with this country has been over-present surfeit of politics.’10
It took the Post six years to come to this conclusion about ‘over-pre-
sent surfeit of politics’,11 which incidentally was also responsible for the
advent of the paper itself. But in the tradition of going overboard in its
support for whoever was paying its bill, the Post sanctioned anything
and everything that the military government did or said. The state-
ments of the military head of the regime, Aguiyi-Ironsi, were described
as ‘words of gold’12 in the context of the ‘task of nation-building that
lies ahead’.13
Tribune seemed to agree with the Post on the prospect of the emer-
gence of a Nigerian nation from the rubbles of the First Republic, given
the way the central and regional governments had dealt with Awolowo,
the paper’s owner, and his political party, the AG. ‘The spirit of one-
ness,’ editorialized Tribune, ‘the idea of a united, detribalized country,
appears to be having honest expressions in the everyday actions of our
military rulers.’14 The Post added to this by describing politicians as the
‘ultimate fraudsters’ whose past actions have to be obliterated so that
Nigeria can start on a ‘clean slate’.15
For the Tribune, the assassination of Premier Akintola, its founder’s
arch-political enemy, and the collapse of the republic in which Akintola
and his principals (the NPC and the Hausa-Fulani political leaders) held
sway was a ‘God-send’, given the fact that ‘[t]he new military regime
came at a time when the ordinary people of Nigeria were wondering
whether God really existed … And so when God struck through our
valiant army … the people rejoice[d].’16 While Pilot agreed with Tribune
that the Western Region suffered most under the Balewa-led federal
government, the latter asked the region to ‘behave’ since it had more to
be grateful for that the military intervened. ‘After all, only God knows
what would have been the fate of westerners by now if the Army did not
halt the events following the last Western Nigeria elections!’17
In all these issues, the New Nigerian seemed not to have reconciled
itself – like the northern elite whose views it represented – to the sudden
change in government and the killing of the Northern Region’s key
9
Ibid.
10
‘Best Hope for Democracy’, MP, January 20, 1966.
11
Ibid., 1.
12
‘Words of Gold’, MP, January 21, 1966, 5.
13
Ibid.
14
‘Path to True Unity’, Nigerian Tribune, March 9, 1966 [hereafter NT].
15
‘Without Bitterness’, MP, February 9, 1966, 5.
16
‘Forward with Our Army’, NT, January 29, 1966.
17
‘Help Fajuyi’, West African Pilot, April 7, 1966, 2 [hereafter WAP].
political and military leaders. The ensuing violent riots in the North-
ern Region, in which the Igbo and others were killed, were pointedly
ignored by New Nigerian.18 However, in such narratives as that on
Ironsi’s planned visit to the Northern Region, the position of the North
on emergent formations in the country came to the fore:
We welcome the decision of the Head of the National Military Government
[Aguiyi-Ironsi] to tour parts of the republic … We are particularly glad that
the Supreme Commander has found time in his schedule to visit the North.
With calls at Kano, Zaria, Jos and Kaduna he will obtain a cross section of
opinion in the whole North … He will be able to re-assure any doubts they
may have about the effectiveness of recent Government legislation.19
The New Nigerian, by narrating the position of the power elite as that
of the ‘whole North’, obscured the relations of domination through
conflating a collective and its part. However, the New Nigerian argued
for the building of a grand Nigerian nation that could supersede the
‘whole North’. The paper asked that every school should be made to
perform the ‘daily ritual’ of saluting the national flag as this will help
consolidate the idea of a Nigerian nation.20
The Unification Decree No. 34 of May 24, 1966 promulgated by the
Ironsi-led regime, provided a major prism through which the newspa-
pers narrated the tensions and contradictions of nationhood. In his
speech announcing the decree, Ironsi stated: ‘The former regions are
abolished, and Nigeria grouped into a number of territorial areas called
provinces … Nigeria ceases to be what has been described as a federation.
It now becomes simply the Republic of Nigeria’.21 Unification, in itself,
is a narrative, and a major mode of ideology, as J.B. Thompson argues.
As a mode of ideology, narratives of unification, help in creating condi-
tions through which relations of domination ‘may be established and
sustained by constructing, at the symbolic level, a form of unity which
embraces individuals in a collective identity, irrespective of the differ-
ences and divisions that may separate them’.22 One of the strategies by
which this is done is through what Thompson calls the ‘symbolization
of unity’, which involves ‘the construction of symbols of unity, of col-
lective identity and identification … [which] may be interwoven with
the process of narrativization, as symbols of unity may be an integral
18
For instance, the headlines of editorials as late as July 1966 give indications of this. They
include, ‘Meeting the People’, July 1, 1966; ‘[U.S.] Independence’, July 4, 1966; ‘Putting
Teeth into the Rent Legislation’, July 4, 1966; ‘Get Expert Advice to Build Exports’, July
13, 1966; and ‘Incentive for Self-Help’, July 15, 1966.
19
‘Meeting the People’, New Nigerian, July 16, 1966 [hereafter NN], emphasis added.
20
‘A Symbol of National Unity’, NN, July 18, 1966, 6.
21
‘The Regions are Abolished’, Ironsi’s Broadcast to the Nation banning Political Parties
and introducing Decree No. 34, May 24, 1966.
22
John B. Thompson, Ideology and Modern Culture: Critical Social Theory in the Era of Mass
Communication (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1990), 64.
23
Ibid.
24
‘One Nigeria’, MP, February 15, 1966. Yet the MP states that the demarcation between
Nigerians was ‘artificial’; see ‘This Accra Victory’, MP, February 15, 1966.
25
Ibid.
26
‘The Budget’, WAP, April 2, 1966.
27
Ibid.
28
Ibid.
29
Ironsi quoted in Ibid.
The Northern Region could hardly be part of the Pilot’s ‘our people’
nor could the Western Region given the fact that central to the former’s
‘doubts’ about the new regime was the idea of ‘talent’ which, for the
North, represented a euphemism for, generally, ‘southern domination’,
and particularly ‘Igbo domination’.30 A signpost of these doubts and
‘fears’ was the piece published in the New Nigerian.31 The newspaper
stated that:
Many Northerners still need convincing that the regime is a truly national
one – and not one out to replace Northern domination of the South by
Southern domination of the North. Some are beginning to ask … why the
coup leaders have not been brought to trial.32
The narrative then sets the basis for the fear of ‘Southern domination’:
The North has both a lower population density and lower educational
standard than the South. This leads some of the Northerners to fear that the
South will somehow ‘colonize’ them by taking over both the jobs in the civil
services and their lands. There is fear that all the current talk about admin-
istrative unity, in practice, opens the way to the demotion of Northerners.33
However, the fact that the idea of unification constituted an ideal
for the interests that Pilot served was further stated in the editorial
devoted to defending it against the attacks and/or ambivalence of the
other parts of Nigeria. Contrary to New Nigerian’s fears on the Unifica-
tion Decree, Pilot stated that that was ‘what Nigerians want’ and that
under the system ‘the question of one section dominating the other
does not arise’.34 Those who argued to the contrary, affirmed the Pilot,
were ‘tribalists’, who ‘could not learn by the mistakes of the past, and
even though may like a unitary form of Government, they still want the
country to be tied up with the appendages of federalism’.35 Pilot then
corroborated the opinion of Lieutenant Colonel Odumegwu Ojukwu,
the Military Governor of Eastern Region, who stated that ‘the present
era was one of unity and solidarity for the whole country in which there
were no minority areas’.36
30
As expressed in editorial, ‘Meeting the People’, NN.
31
The article by one Walter Schwarz was supposedly intended to be published in the Lon-
don Sunday Observer, but this did not happen. ‘Strangers Within Our Gates’, NT, May 18,
1966.
32
Major Chukwuma Kaduna Nzeogwu and the other majors who planned and executed
the January 15, 1966 coup in which prominent northern leaders were killed. They had
been arrested and detained by the Ironsi regime. Walter Schwarz, ‘Nigeria Back in Poli-
tics?’ New Nigerian, May 12, 1966.
33
Ibid.
34
‘Govt Must Be Firm’, May 31, 1966.
35
Ibid.
36
‘In the Bid for A United Nigeria … There is No Talk of a Minority – Ojukwu’, WAP, April 9,
1966, 1.
For the Pilot, this was the ‘ideal’ that had to be turned into practical
reality. Though not explicitly stated, the idea of minorities in the East-
ern Region was an uncomfortable one for Ojukwu and the interests that
Pilot represented. As stated by the Pilot:
Indeed minority problems arise with the question of federalism no matter by
what description. Before the division of the country into states, there was noth-
ing like minority problem. Nigerians want a constitution in which any section
should feel at home anywhere in the country and not feel as minorities.37
The Pilot added that nothing short of a constitution that allowed ‘free
interchange of abode throughout the country’ will ‘serve the interest
of the people’.38 To the Pilot, ‘the people’ were primarily the Igbo, who
had commercial interests in virtually every part of Nigeria, particularly
Lagos and the major cities of the North. The Pilot’s plan for unifica-
tion, therefore, was ‘far reaching’ and would help Nigerians ‘evolve a
common nationality and end sectionalism’.39 Consequently, the paper
urged the ‘Ironsi Regime to carry on since its doings have the unani-
mous support of the people. We are convinced of our national salvation
under the aegis of the new Military Government.’40
Surprisingly, despite the fact that its proprietor was the first and most
eloquent of the proponents of a federal system among the country’s
founding fathers, the Tribune also shared this position on the Unification
Decree, believing that it ‘would pave the way for a great and prosperous
nation, which is the hope of everyone’.41 The united nation that might
emerge was of interest to the Tribune:
If the present army regime within the time-table set for itself is able to build a
new Nigerian nation out of the ruins of the past, if it is able to bring together
a people torn asunder by tribal trappings and narrow sectionalism which in
the day of politicians became worshipped, cherished institutions, then the
future of a united and progressive Nigeria is assured.42
Perhaps the Tribune’s position was influenced more by the fact that the
new military regime upstaged the political parties and leaders who had
‘conspired’ to defeat Awolowo’s party and jailed the man. At this point,
Awolowo was still in jail.
However, there was no question for the Pilot that the Unification
Decree would ‘bring together a people torn asunder by tribal trap-
pings and narrow sectionalism’. In fact, the adoption of this form of
government represented the birth of ‘true Nigeria’.43 The fact that Pilot
37
‘What Nigerians Want’, WAP, April, 19, 1966.
38
Ibid.
39
‘Recrimination?’ WAP, April 25, 1966.
40
Ibid.
41
‘A United Nigeria’, NT, May 26, 1966.
42
Ibid.
43
‘One Nigeria, One Destiny’,
had always desired unitary system was evident in its jubilation at the
achievement of ‘one Nigeria, one destiny’ and the ‘wiping out’ of fed-
eralism.44 When the unitary system was formally announced, the Pilot
editorialized:
Today a true Nigeria is born. Federalism has been wiped out. All the equivo-
cation in the past about common nationality is over. Today every Nigerian is
a Nigerian no matter in what part of the country he is … The policy of divide
and rule introduced by the British Colonial administration and perpetuated
by self-seeking politicians is over.45
Also, for the new regime’s mouthpiece, Morning Post, the decision
took Nigeria into ‘a new epoch’:
This is a thing that all true patriots of this country have eagerly looked
forward to … The Morning Post commend[s] the National Government for
taking the bold step to erase all the divisive tendencies that had contributed
to make Nigerians from one part of Nigeria stranger[s] in another part.46
Where the Tribune hoped that the Ironsi regime was able to perform
the recommended task ‘within the time-table set for itself ’,47 the Pilot
did not foresee an end for the military regime as the paper announced:
‘Long live Aguiyi Ironsi’s Military Government. Long live the Nigerian
Republic.’48 The Pilot could not but wish the government long life given
the way it articulated the regime’s raison d’etre on the regime’s behalf:
It is the declared policy of the government to build a hate-free, greed-free
nation with a contented citizenship provided with all the basic human
requirements. It behooves any true lover of this country to bring these
facts home to misguided Nigerians. This is the supreme task of one and all,
particularly the information media at this time of national reconstruction.
Anything short of this is gross disservice to the nation.49
The fact that these newspapers served as the paper soldiers for the
ideological and ethno-political struggle among the contending groups
was further demonstrated by the way the agendas of members of par-
ticular groups were picked up and amplified by their newspapers and
how, at other times, the agendas articulated by the newspapers were
picked up and amplified by the political leaders. For example, when the
Military Governor of the Eastern Region, Ojukwu, ordered that all refer-
ences to ‘tribe or ethnic group’ be ‘completely expunged in future from
44
‘One Nigeria, One Destiny’, May 26, 1966, 2.
45
Ibid.
46
‘Civis Nigerianus Sum’, MP, May 26, 1966.
47
‘A United Nigeria’, The Tribune notes elsewhere, when Ironsi announced that they had
prepared a 20-year plan for Nigeria, that ‘this does not fall within the programme of a
corrective government’, ‘Twenty Years’, NT, July 22, 1966.
48
‘One Nigeria, One Destiny’,
49
‘Government Must Be Firm’, WAP, May 31, 1966.
50
‘We Must Unite’, MP, May 10, 1966.
51
‘Long Live United Nigeria’, WAP, June 25, 1966.
52
Tribune and Pilot report ‘92 killed … 506 wounded, 300 arrested’, NT, June 2, 1966; and
WAP, June 2, 1966.
53
‘Transfer of Army Governors’, WAP, July 5, 1966.
54
‘Marching to Progress’, WAP, July 18, 1966.
55
‘The First 6 Months’, WAP, July 18, 1966.
56
Ibid.
57
‘Test For Rulers’, WAP, July 28, 1966.
Despite the tension, crises, and uncertainties of the post-Ironsi era, the
Pilot was still irrevocably committed to the sustenance of Nigeria as one
indivisible entity, as it romanticized the idea of an overriding nationalism:
Although the armour of our National Military Government has sustained
some visible dents at many points, we of the West African Pilot still believe
that we can all rally round and begin all over again to mend it in the greatest
interest of our national survival … It will be a thing of joy to Nigerians if
all segments of our populace will continue to feel a deep sense of national
belonging borne out of justified national cohesion.64
However, Lieutenant Colonel Ojukwu, the Military Governor of the
Eastern Region, refused to recognize the new head of state. Against this
backdrop, the Post regarded the divergent positions expressed by Gowon
and Ojukwu in the aftermath of the coup as representing the depth of
the ‘tribal sentiments in the army’.65 The paper reported that
Lt. Col. Gowon said ‘putting all the considerations to test … the basis for
unity is not there.’ The same night, Lt. Col. Odumegwu Ojukwu … said just
as much, concluding, ‘there are serious doubts as to whether the people of
Nigeria … can sincerely live together as members of the same nation’.66
In spite of all these, the Post still advertised its belief that Nigerians can
swim together without bitterness and bloodshed.67
As part of the efforts to appease some sections of the country and iso-
late the Eastern Region, Gowon released all political prisoners, includ-
ing Chief Obafemi Awolowo and Chief Anthony Enahoro. This provided
another interesting context for hostilities between the newspapers. In its
report of the releases, New Nigerian added an exclamation mark to the
claim by Ojukwu that the defunct Supreme Military Council headed by
Ironsi had earlier decided to release Awolowo, before Ironsi was toppled.
The newspaper reported: ‘In the telegram, Lt. Col. Ojukwu said the deci-
sion to release Chief Awolowo and other political prisoners was taken
by the Supreme Council earlier on!’68 The New Nigerian, which had
endorsed the imprisonment of Awolowo and the others, now recalled
that the imprisonment had been ‘a source of contention and dissension
throughout Nigeria for the past few years’.69 It was evident that with
the killing of Northern leaders (Awo’s sworn political adversaries) in
the January 1966 coup, the refusal by Ironsi to put Nzeogwu and his
fellow plotters to trial, and the Unification Decree, Ironsi would have
been even more unpopular in the Northern Region if he had released
Awolowo. But given how Awolowo’s release now served the interest of
64
‘Let’s Begin Again’, WAP, August 2, 1966.
65
Ibid.
66
Ibid.
67
Ibid.
68
‘Ojukwu Congratulates Chief Awolowo’, August 4, 1966, 1.
69
‘Releasing Goodwill Through the Prison Gates’, NN, August 4, 1966.
the New Nigerian and its backers, the ‘merits and demerits’ of Awolowo’s
treasonable felony trial, the paper argued, were no longer important.70
The paper concluded that Awolowo and others’ release should only be
‘welcome and accepted by every Nigerian’ because ‘[t]heir confinement
provided a cause and reason for discord and differences between Nige-
rians of varying political beliefs. The future is more important than the
past. The stability and prosperity of our country is more important than
old political feuds and fights.’71 The stability and prosperity that New
Nigerian emphasized were ostensibly those of the Northern Region-led
regime, as Gowon’s statement later confirmed.72
While the Post saw the warm welcome that Awolowo received after
his release as his ‘hour of glory’,73 the Pilot narrated the release as ‘the
triumph of truth over falsehood and victory of light over darkness’.74
The Tribune reported that the arrival of the
58 year-old Nigerian nationalist, politician, philosopher and idealist [Awolowo]
… at this time when the nation and its people are passing through a period
marked by certain vital significant [sic] events sharpening all facets of history
of our great nation … Therefore, the release of [Awolowo] we hope, marks
the beginning of [a] new crusade, of a new social and political force towards
building of a Nigerian nation welded together by genuine unity and strength.75
Even though the New Nigerian, in the context of Awo’s imprisonment
argued that the past should be forgotten, it returned to that past to rub
in the political ‘loss’ of ‘a top leader’ who had for long preached unitary
form of government.76 The top leader, who the paper failed to mention,
was the former ceremonial president, Nnamdi Azikiwe:
About nine years ago, one of the top leaders in Nigeria suddenly discovered
that his time-honoured fight for unitary form of government for Nigerian
was a lost battle. For almost 20 years, he had advocated a unitary form of
government for Nigeria. He even called for 12 states in Nigeria – all of them
weak and powerless states – with a very strong centre. But to everybody’s
surprise … while in London for the 1957 Constitutional Conference, he cried
out that ‘federalism is imperative for Nigeria’. This was a very serious depar-
ture from an age long belief in a cause that was very unpopular.77
70
‘Releasing Goodwill Through the Prison Gates’, NN, August 4, 1966.
71
Ibid. This is an example of a ‘euphemization’. The three years that these three men served
out of the 10-year (or less) term was described as ‘confinement’, which glossed over the
hardship and psychological trauma of imprisonment.
72
This is addressed below. See footnotes 162–164.
73
‘Awo’s Hour of Glory’, MP, August 4, 1966.
74
‘Awo at Ibadan’, WAP, August 9, 1966.
75
‘Welcome, Awolowo’, NT, August 4, 1966. Also see ‘Release for Awo’, NT, August 3,
1966: 1.
76
‘Federalism Only Answer’, NN, August 10, 1966, 1.
77
‘Federalism Only Answer’, NN, August 10, 1966, 1. Interesting enough, Gowon later
created 12 states and part of the rationale was to break the ‘recalcitrance’ of the East.
This editorial illuminated the indirect way Azikiwe’s and Igbo’s advo-
cacy for unitary form of government connected with Ironsi’s adoption
of the same. The newspaper seems to suggest that this connection was
in the pursuit of ‘Igbo domination’. Without mentioning any names,
the New Nigerian again placed a ‘consistent’ Awolowo against the
‘inconsistent’ Zik:
Quite in contrast with this leader, another leader advocated a federal system
of government for Nigeria. He did not mince words over it. He emphasized
that a country so diverse in culture and traditions – a country with many
languages, and with development, educationally and otherwise, so uneven
– a constitution that allowed for every region to go its own pace, could only
be acceptable to the majority of the people.78
At this point, the Northern Region entered the New Nigerian’s narrative:
The Northern leaders of all shades of opinion … remained unmoved in their
strong belief in a federal form of government … The North thus became a
late starter in the race for self-rule as it was in the race for education. The
federal form of government became a blessing. Everybody came to realize
that under this system no inequality and injustice could be done to anyone.
That every region could progress at its own pace.79
However, there were some crises that confronted the ‘nation’ in the nar-
rative of the New Nigerian.
Then the Army stepped in to save us from total disintegration. We all hailed
our liberators … Then very soon, many things, apparently nauseating,
started to happen. The military power-that-be made the most disastrous
and catastrophic slip. Much against the advice of the elders of the country,
the authorities decided to abolish the federation and sought to impose uni-
tarism on the people. The result of some arbitrary decisions were chaos and
confusion.80
‘The nation’ had apparently now returned to where the newspaper
believed it should be. Therefore, the New Nigerian editorialized, ‘[n]
othing can be more reassuring than … that this country is to return to
the federal system … The decision is wise and sane.’81
Once the interests of the Northern Region were well served, the New
Nigerian announced that all was well with Nigeria. This was particu-
larly true if decentralization was encouraged in principle:
The people of this country have much in common and at stake. We can
survive the strains and stresses of a lasting existence if only we return to
a constitution that allows for each and every component section of the
78
‘Federalism Only Answer’, NN.
79
Ibid.
80
Ibid.
81
Ibid.
Republic to go at its own pace and to run its affairs in its own manner and
light. Lt.-Col. Yakubu Gowon is certainly moving in the right direction.82
For its part, the Pilot, which had earlier celebrated the ‘wiping out’ of
federalism, describing the introduction of unitary system as the ‘birth
of a true Nigeria’,83 changed gears again, stating that a ‘federal system
which should respect the wishes of the majority ethnic and linguistic
groupings in the country and at the same time allay the fears of the
minorities should appeal to the proposed consultative meetings to be
drawn from all over Nigeria’.84 In the new dispensation, the newspaper
insisted that the ‘new’ federalism should be ‘true federalism’ because,
‘[t]here is a greater benefit to gain if we still remain one country, instead
of tearing asunder by secession’.85 With this, the Pilot reintroduced
the option of secession into the narrative, even though it did so by
disclaiming it. A few days later, Ojukwu picked this up while rejecting
the proposed reintroduction of federalism, because, as he argued, ‘the
factors making for a true federation of Nigeria no longer exists [sic].’86
Yet, Ojukwu was reported by Pilot to have reviewed the situation in the
country in declaring: ‘The East is anxious to ensure peace in the coun-
try and she does not wish for secession.’87
The Post, which had earlier also celebrated the promulgation of uni-
tary system by the Ironsi regime and described it as a ‘bold step’ which
all ‘true patriots’ had looked forward to, reversed itself.88 It stated: ‘Per-
haps our unity lies through a federal system of government.’89 Two days
later, the Post went beyond ‘perhaps’ to state categorically that federal-
ism was the best for Nigeria, even reversing itself again on the question
of the abolition of the word ‘tribe’:
WE ARE CONVINCED THAT FEDERALISM WOULD SUIT A SOCIETY
SUCH AS OURS BETTER THAN A UNITARY GOVERNMENT … We are not
ashamed to admit that tribalism abounds. For, we are yet to see a Nigerian
who does not see himself only as Ibo [sic], Yoruba, Hausa or Bini. We do not
feel this sense of shame, not because we revel in tribalism or clanishness,
but because we recognize too well that it is only a natural propensity. We
believe every Nigerian is a tribalist. That doesn’t matter. What matters is if
tribalism succeeds to lie between Nigerians like a curtain of iron.90
Also, the Tribune had welcomed the ‘administrative, constitutional
and geographical reforms’ (i.e. unitary system) in the hope that it would
82
Ibid.
83
‘One Nigeria, One Destiny’,
84
‘True Federalism’, WAP, August 10, 1966.
85
Ibid.
86
‘Factors for True Federation No Longer Exists: Ojukwu’, WAP, August 19, 1966, 1.
87
Ibid.
88
‘Crisis Nigerianus Sum’,
89
‘Peace in Our Time’, MP, August 6, 1966.
90
Ibid., capitals in original.
make Nigeria a ‘great and prosperous nation’.91 The paper now argues
that there was ‘no doubt’ that a federal constitution was acceptable to
Nigerians, given the fact that it was ‘adequate to the exigencies and
function of government and of course the preservation of national
unity’.92 The paper then rearticulated the fundamental position of its
founders: ‘A federal system of administration will help keep the balance
of power between the component parts of the federation. Above all we
are hopeful that out of all these efforts will emerge a new, powerful, pro-
gressive and united nation of our dream.’93
The national conference that the Gowon regime planned to hold to
decide the future of the country provided yet another means for the
discursive negotiation of power in the troubled federation. As evident
in the press, the proposed constitutional talks presented an opportunity
for the narration of power from the past, presaging the negotiation of
power in the present, which would determine future prospects.
The New Nigerian, which earlier stated that Awolowo’s release
meant that ‘old political feuds and fights’ should be forgotten because
they were not very important, returned to the past in locating the pro-
posed talks in the trajectory of Nigeria’s history.94 The talks reminded
the paper of the fears of ‘Igbo domination’ in the few months that the
Ironsi regime lasted rather than the accusations of ‘Northern domina-
tion’ between 1960–1966 that preceded Ironsi’s era. The paper added:
‘Post-independent Nigeria, unfortunately, was saddled precariously
with propensities of some sections of our population to lord it over the
rest of the country.’95
Given the balance of power, which favored the North, the New Nige-
rian argued that such ‘wise counsel’ as existed under the Gowon regime
should not be lost for a return to ‘Igbo domination’, as existed under
General Ironsi. The paper added, ‘Now that our ship of state has reached
another cross-roads at which point wise counsel must prevail, nothing
should be done to give room for a recurrence of the events that set our
hearts rumbling in January this year.’96 The paper also established a
‘fact’ that revealed a predilection to affirm the supremacy of the North
in the area of leadership: ‘Northern Nigeria has been blessed with good
leadership at all times and now is the time this leadership must be on
show. Our place in the Republic must be unique.’97
Despite the ‘sporadic and tendentious outbursts from certain quar-
ters of the Republic’98 – a reference to the Eastern Region – the New
91
‘A United Nigeria’, NT.
92
‘A New Constitution’, NT, August 10, 1966.
93
Ibid.
94
‘Releasing Goodwill through the Prison Gates’, NN, August 4, 1966.
95
‘The Forthcoming Big Talks’, NN, Aug 23, 1966: 6.
96
Ibid.
97
Ibid.
98
Ibid.
99
Ibid. The paper asked that whatever comes out of the talks must be based ‘absolutely on
what is good for the people of the North and, of course, Nigeria’, ‘The Issue at Stake’, NN,
August 29, 1966.
100
Gowon’s inaugural speech.
101
Raymond E. Okorie, ‘A Voice from the East Pleads With Yakubu Gowon – Let’s Part Our
Ways’, NN, August 23, 1966, 6.
102
Ibid.
among the Yoruba. The Tribune stated that the selection of its proprie-
tor, Awolowo, to lead the Western Region to the talks were vital because
Chief Awolowo, as we know him, is a man who has dedicated his energies
to the welfare and happiness of the [Yoruba] people and by placing the
burden of the leadership of the people on him, he is only being asked to weld
together a people once wrecked by feud; and to put into service his personal
qualities and decisiveness.103
The paper argued that the constitutional conference was about ‘the
nation’s destiny’:
This conference is historic, it is significant … It is significant because out of
these talks will emerge a charter or a philosophy upon which rests the hopes
and aspirations of a people who should live together in a spirit of common
belief and understanding; a genuine spirit completely divorced of the past
hatred, bias and ill-feelings indeed a spirit cardinally aimed towards one
destiny.104
The Tribune saw the ‘charter’ and ‘philosophy’ that would provide
the basis for the ‘genuine spirit’105 towards common destiny for Nige-
rians as being far more elevating than New Nigerian’s ‘no compromise’
stance which Northern delegates were urged to take in matters that, for
the New Nigerian, were only of a ‘tenuous unity’.106 For the Tribune, the
conference was all about the present and future of Nigeria. Therefore,
the paper stated: ‘All those taking part in this ‘people’s conference’…
represent the present and the future of the Nigerian nation.’107
Like the Tribune, the Pilot argued that it was also concerned with
national unity and not sectional advantage as advocated by the New
Nigerian. If every section of the country had a ‘master plan’ like the
North, the Pilot wondered whose ‘plan’ would be rejected.108 First, the
paper reviewed what was at stake in Nigeria, stated what it assumes to
be the truth of the Nigerian crisis, and emphasized ‘what is to be done’:
The truth about the country is that we are lacking in those fundamental
elements that make for unity – that is to say, DEFENSIVE NATIONALISM
and IRON HAND LEADERSHIP. A nation requires … foreign aggression in
order to develop defensive nationalism which [represents] a unifying factor
… Secondly, to attain unity a nation requires a man on a horse back with a
whip to keep the people together.109
The Pilot, unlike the New Nigerian, asked that the constitutional talks in
103
‘A New Chapter’, NT, August 16, 1966.
104
‘The Nation’s Destiny’, NT, September 12, 1966, 1.
105
Ibid.
106
This position is reflected in ‘The Forthcoming Big Talks’, NN, August 23, 1966, 6.
107
Ibid.
108
‘The Problem of Unity’, NN, August 23, 1966, 6.
109
Ibid., capitals in original.
110
‘The Task Before Us’, Front page comment, WAP, September 12, 1966.
111
‘The Nation Before Self ’, MP, August 16, 1966
112
‘Best Yet to Come’, MP, August 12, 1966.
113
‘The March of History’, WAP, Sep. 2, 1966.
114
Ibid.
115
‘An Example of Reasonableness’, NN, August 25, 1966.
116
Ibid.
117
Ibid.
118
‘Restraint, Please’, NN, August 24, 1966.
The Post picked this up, asking if there was any need for the constitu-
ent parts of Nigeria to separate and remain enemies if, indeed, separa-
tion was achieved:
There is already deep-seated bitterness among the peoples of this country.
But with a little bit of good sense, time, the healer of all wounds, will ulti-
mately ameliorate whatever bitterness may exist among the people … And
who knows, Nigeria may yet remain. And if she crumbles, should she do so
with former Nigerians becoming inveterate enemies?119
In the wake of the massacre of easterners in the North, the Post asked
the government to be ‘ruthless in maintaining peace’ by ‘crushing the
saboteurs’.120 The Tribune asked for restraint because Nigeria sat ‘on a
tinder box’.121 The paper also echoed the Military Governor of the Mid-
West, Lieutenant Colonel David Ejoor:
Nigeria is now passing through a crucial and momentous stage in her his-
tory when different communities have to consider whether they can march
forward as one indivisible whole in true mutual affection and concord or
whether they have indeed reached the end of a once hopeful experiment in
nation-building.122
As the number of the victims of the massacres in the North increased,
the Pilot abandoned its earlier pleas for unity, raising what it considered
critical questions:
The days of wishful thinking is [sic] over … We have long deceived ourselves
and no nation based on self-deception can long endure … One of the major
issues facing the country today is whether Nigerians can live together as
one people, in peace and security … Can Nigerians live together without fear
of one section dominating the other? If they cannot then what is the basis
of togetherness which the weeping Jeremiahs fancy can be achieved in the
country?123
Furthermore, the paper argued that the Lagos talks could not do much
in the face of the odds:
The facts as they are today, are that Nigerians are haunted by fear of domi-
nation of one section by another, by fear of insecurity of life and property,
by fear of molestation. These are basic human freedoms which, lacking in
a country makes nonsense of united nationhood. Under the atmosphere
of apprehension and misgivings, it will be wishful thinking to feel that by
a magic wand, the ad-hoc committee on Nigerian constitution meeting in
Lagos can manufacture a way in which by tomorrow morning Nigerians
119
‘Freedom of Movement’, MP, August 26, 1966.
120
‘Crush the Saboteurs’, MP, August 31, 1966.
121
‘Restraint Please’, NT, August 30, 1966.
122
‘To Be Or Not to Be?’ NT, August 27, 1966.
123
‘When Our £-o-v-e Is Tied to The Pound’, WAP, September 19, 1966.
124
Ibid.
125
‘Indiscreet’. NN, August 31, 1966.
126
Ibid.
127
Ibid.
128
Ibid.
129
‘That Delegation from East’, NN, September 10, 1966.
130
Ibid.
131
‘Lt. Col. Hassan Gives Another STERN WARNING – Against Lawlessness, Molestation
and Acts of Subversion’, NN, September 12, 1966, 1, capitals in original.
132
The ‘few’ were ostensibly the Five Majors led by Nzeogwu who masterminded the January
16, 1966 coup. ‘Let’s Watch and Pray’, NN, September 13, 1966, 1.
133
‘Action, Gowon’, NT, October 4, 1966, 1.
134
‘What Next, Gowon?’ NT, October 5, 1966.
135
‘That Delegation from East’, NN, September 10, 1966.
136
‘Action, Gowon’, NT, October 4 1966, 1.
137
‘A Daniel, A Daniel’, WAP, October 5, 1966.
138
‘Hitting the Bull’s Eye’, Front page comment, WAP, October 3, 1966.
Lieutenant-Colonel Odumegwu Ojukwu and Lt. Col. Gowon over the week-
end will dash to pieces and Nigeria with it … Goodwill messages cannot solve
our problems which can be solved by ourselves IF WE APPROACH THESE
PROBLEMS WITH TRANSPARENT HONESTY AND OPEN MIND AND STOP
PLAYING THE OSTRICH WHILE OUR NATION IS ON THE BRINK OF DIS-
SOLUTION. It is useless to sugar-coat the fact that the calamities we face are
unthinkably menacing.139
During airlift of easterners back to their region and Ojukwu’s repeated
warning that the Eastern Region might find itself in a situation where
it would be ‘pushed out’ of Nigeria , the New Nigerian reminded a frac-
tious country about how the crisis arose. The paper often narrated this
so as to emphasize that the attempt at ‘Igbo domination’ represented
by the January 15, 1966, coup was the source of all the problems of
Nigeria, thereby depriving the Major Nzeogwu-led coup of its historical
character. It was as if Nigeria’s history began for the paper on that day.
Perhaps, lest people misunderstood the basis for the massacre of the
Igbo, the New Nigerian, reconstructed the past through its narration of
the ‘genesis of the exodus [of the Igbo]’:
The history of the First Republic is written in blood … It stands to reason,
therefore, that we should draw some conclusions from and make sober reap-
praisals of the events that matured into the crisis which now envelops the
nation … It is therefore, surprising that there are still some well-placed per-
sonalities who abuse their office by whipping up hysteria and indulging in
a war of psychosis; by so doing they have unconsciously fanned the embers
of hatred to the chagrin of the champions of peace and nation-building.140
In spite of the fact that the paper itself had earlier reported the ‘moles-
tation and harassment’ of the Igbo, it now argued that the exodus of the
Igbo from the Northern Region was ‘pre-planned’ and ‘obviously’ had
nothing to do with what the easterners experienced in the Northern
Region.141 In any case, argued the New Nigerian, the exodus was not
only from the North. ‘This is untrue and wicked’, stated the paper. ‘Why
should we not summon courage to admit the fact that those so-called
refugees have decided to migrate home out of their own volition and
that the North as well as the West, the Mid-West and Lagos, have wit-
nessed the abnormal social phenomenon.’142
This narrative is a good example of how relations of domination
are established through dissimulation, involving concealing, denying,
obscuring, or deflecting attention away from, or glossing over, existing
relations of domination and their process as it is expressed particularly
139
‘States For Sale’, WAP, October 3, 1966, 1, capitals in original.
140
‘Genesis of the Exodus’, NN, September 28, 1966, 1.
141
Ibid.
142
Ibid.
143
Thompson, Ideology and Modern Culture, 62.
144
‘Genesis of the Exodus,’ NN, Sep. 28 1966, 1.
145
Ibid.
146
Ibid.
147
‘Genesis of the Exodus’, NN.
148
Ibid.
149
Ibid.
150
Ibid.
the edifice which they have made more sacrifice, put in greater efforts and
made far-greater contributions than any other section to build.151
However, one of the assumed ‘enemies’ of the Eastern Region, that is
the newspaper owned by the Yoruba, Tribune, indeed ‘minimizes’ this
‘sacrifice’. The paper describes Ojukwu’s claim as one that was ‘in
bad taste’ which was ‘tantamount to propaganda’.152 Even though
the Tribune condemned the killings in the Northern Region and con-
sidered the reactions from the Eastern Region, particularly Ojukwu’s,
as ‘understandably emotional’,153 the paper’s overriding task was to
protect Western Nigeria in the crisis. The paper, unfortunately, reduced
the crisis to a fight between the Igbo-dominated Eastern Region and
the Hausa-Fulani-dominated Northern Region. Yorubaland/Western
Region could be the turf for their mutual war:
First, everything must be done … to see that no agent-provocateurs, whether
Hausa or Ibo, or their agents … are allowed to spread foul rumors among the
people of Western Nigeria. Ibos and Hausas must be warned that neither
the government nor the generality of the people will allow Yoruba land to be
anybody’s battle-ground [sic] or arena for small skirmishes.154
Despite the magnitude of the tragedy that the country was witness-
ing, the Tribune was singularly devoted to ensuring that the ‘skirmishes’
were restricted to the eastern and northern Regions – as if the Western
Region was not in any way involved in the crisis. The paper assured the
Igbo and the Hausa that the Yoruba were ready to defend their land
against the outbreak of hostilities between the other two:
[W]e would again warn potential trouble-makers, whether Hausa or Ibo
and whatever their uniform or smuggled arms, that all Yorubas will rise like
one man to defend their land and heritage, and that they will not allow any
foolish outsider to poison the calm atmosphere of Western Nigeria.155
The reference to ‘uniform’ and ‘smuggled arms’ were tropes for the
northern soldiers stationed in the Western Region and the Igbo’s
rumored preparation for secession, respectively. The ‘smuggled arms’
was particularly in reference to the ill-fated aircraft, which was allegedly
flying smuggled arms to the Eastern Region in preparation for war.156
Yet, the Tribune picked up the phrase used by the Pilot, regarding the
people ‘on the lunatic fringe’, in asking for mediation while presenting
the Yoruba as the ‘sober’ and ‘neutral’ group that could save the nation
151
‘We’ll Not Destroy The Edifice We Helped To Build 3,000 Easterners Dead in May Riots –
Ojukwu’, WAP, October 20, 1966, 1.
152
‘Enough is Enough’, NT, October 26, 1966.
153
Ibid.
154
‘Warning and Vigilance’, NT, October 6, 1966.
155
Ibid.
156
‘Stop the Gas’, NT, October 27, 1966.
from war: ‘Yorubas, with other ethnic groups, are destined to restore
peace and harmony between Ibos and Hausas. They must not allow
people on the lunatic fringe to involve them in the present mass killings
and molestation.’157
But the New Nigerian disagreed that the Yoruba had a ‘destiny’ that
imposed on them the task of mediation, because the issue was not a
clear-cut one between the Hausa and the Igbo. Therefore, the paper
objected to those who suggested that ‘the Yorubas should mediate
between the Eastern Region and the Northern Region, the implication
being that the whole unhappy business is simply a clear-cut issue of
North versus East, Hausas versus Ibos’.158 Rather, the paper, without
stating so explicitly, would like the matter to be seen as the Igbo against
the rest of the country. The New Nigerian continued that the view that
the crisis was between the Igbo and the Hausa ‘is not so [because] Yoru-
bas lost their lives in January [1966 Igbo-led coup] as well as North-
erners. In addition, we should also remember that the Ibos are leaving
Lagos and many towns in Western Region in large numbers.’159 This
was clearly an attempt to isolate the Igbo and present the Western and
Northern Region as a bloc united against the Eastern Region.
Interesting enough, whereas it never used the word ‘killings’ to
describe the massacres of the easterners in the North, when a broad-
cast on Radio Cotonou (Republic of Benin) announced that northern-
ers were being killed in the Eastern Region, the New Nigerian used the
word ‘killing’, even though ‘some [of the reports were] confirmed, [and]
others yet unsubstantiated’.160 Still, based on these unconfirmed and
unsubstantiated reports on the killing of a few northerners, the paper
declared: ‘The nation trembles on the brink of anarchy and despair …
A full-scale civil war of the most awful kind is a prospect that must be
feared and avoided at all costs.’161 For the New Nigerian, the massacres
of the Easterners did not provoke similar ‘trembl[ing]s on the brink of
anarchy’.
However, about one month after this, the New Nigerian asked north-
erners to heed the appeal by the Head of State, Lt Col Gowon, for an
end to the riots and killings in the North, given the fact that north-
erners ‘have always prided themselves on their respect for constituted
authority and for the maintenance of law and order’.162 This was after
the mass murder of hundreds of people. In the same edition where the
paper echoed Gowon, the latter’s speech addressed directly to Northern-
ers was also published. Gowon stated that ‘We [northerners, including
himself] are known as peace-loving people and we must do everything
157
‘Warning and Vigilance’, NT, October 6, 1966.
158
‘Not Such a Clear Cut Issue’, NN, September 29, 1966.
159
Ibid.
160
‘Peace – We Must Find an Answer’, front page comment, NN, September 30, 1966.
161
Ibid.
162
‘Above All Keep Calm’, October 3, 1966.
in our power not to allow this good reputation to be soiled.’163 The very
instructive appeal stated further:
Fellow Northerners … You all know that since the end of July, God, in his
power, has entrusted the responsibility of this great country of ours, Nige-
rian, to the hands of another Northerner … Right from the beginning of
politics in this country, up to this date, whenever complications arise, the
people of the North are known to champion the cause of peace and set-
tlement. Once the North remains peaceful it is easy to settle disputes aris-
ing from any other part of the country … I receive complaints daily that up
to now, Easterners living in the North are being killed and molested, their
property looted.164
The Pilot was very charitable in its reaction to Gowon’s call, in spite
of Gowon’s ‘glorification’ of the northerner. The paper stated that
Gowon deserved ‘the praise of every Nigerian’ for calling a halt to the
‘hell let loose by men on the lunatic fringe’.165 It even describes Gowon
as a ‘Daniel’, adding: ‘All along, the sincere patriots of this country
have been looking for a Daniel to come to the rescue of our bleeding
nation.’166 This was an expression of an unusual restraint after an
orgy of violence, particularly in Kano, where even the indulgent New
Nigerian stated: ‘The bullet holes in the airport buildings and the dark,
ominously significant stains, are a reminder that blind ignorance and
prejudice can have no place in a nation aspiring to greatness.’167
However, the exceptional nature of the massacres in Kano in October
1966 affected the outlook of the New Nigerian. In a somewhat contrite
manner, after the Kano killings, the paper narrated a rare ‘moment of
truth’ in Nigeria’s history:
A moment of truth has been reached in Nigerian history. A moment when
we have no alternative but swallow our pride and acknowledge our failings
and our guilt. The legacies of hate, mistrust, bitterness and prejudices inher-
ited from the past have exploded in our face and we now see the prospect of
utter and complete chaos confronting us.168
Even though the paper screened off the killings that preceded these
massive Kano killings, it stated that the ‘proud history’ of the ‘great city
[Kano]’ had been stained. Instructively, the New Nigerian did not use
the words massacre (or pogrom) to describe what happened in Kano,
nor did it expressly accuse the northerners of being the perpetrators.
163
‘Appeal by Gowon. North’s Role in Peace Moves’, NN, October 3, 1966.
164
Gowon could have added, ‘after the last Northerner in power, Balewa, was killed by the
Igbo’, He did not cite even one example of when the North had compromised its position
in the interest of ‘peace and settlement’. Ibid.
165
‘A Daniel, A Daniel’, WAP, October 5, 1966.
166
Ibid.
167
‘On the Spot Report: Kano – A City of Hurt Yet New Hope’, NN, October 4, 1966, 1.
168
‘Moment of Truth in Our History’, NN, October 4, 1966.
Instead, the killings were described as ‘black and terrible’ and ‘full [of]
horror’,169 phrases which did not immediately suggest that the killings
were against a particular group. This strategy of symbolic construction
of domination has been described by Thompson as passivization in that
it ‘delete[s] actors and agency and … tend[s] to represent processes as
things and events [that] take place in the absence of a subject who pro-
duces them’.170 The paper stated: ‘Only those who were in Kano over this
last black and terrible weekend know the full horror of what took place.
It is a memory that will remain for years to come. A memory besmirch-
ing what, in the main, has been a proud history of a great city.’171
In spite of the magnitude of the killings and its own acceptance of
complicity in the crisis, the New Nigerian still offered a defense of the
North, even while it avoided mentioning the ethnic/regional group to
which the victims belonged (easterners/Igbo), describing them rather
as ‘those who suffered’:
But with the same sincerity and intensity with which we now express our
sorrow and sympathy with those who suffered we ask that there should
be no outright condemnation of the North. It is true that there have been
mistakes. All of us – including this newspaper – must share some degree
of blame for seeking to exploit prejudices of one kind or another. But now,
albeit tragically belated, a true appreciation of the road to national suicide
on which we have embarked, has been revealed in a way that we cannot, we
dare not, ignore.172
However, beyond the sorrow and sympathy, the paper still saw the pos-
sibilities of national redemption. Thus, it appealed ‘to everyone with
a true understanding of the situation … that if we must survive as a
nation we must learn to live together … and work selfishlessly [sic] and
honestly towards rebuilding a better and happier nation’.173
Perhaps to ensure that this ‘rebuilding’ was accomplished and that
the Eastern Region did not surprise the rest of the country with seces-
sion, the New Nigerian constantly focused on what the Eastern Region
was up to in the aftermath of the massacres. For instance, the paper
asked, ‘Why … should Lt.-Col. Ojukwu … be at pains to reiterate that the
East is not hell-bent on secession when her every move seems in that
direction?’174 Later, New Nigerian returned to the issue again and again
stating in one instance that nothing had happened in Nigeria to ‘push’
the Eastern Region out of the country, as Ojukwu alleged:
169
Ibid.
170
Thompson, Ideology and Modern Culture, 66.
171
‘Moment of Truth in Our History’.
172
Ibid.
173
Ibid.
174
‘Why Not?’ NN, October 15, 1966.
Which prompts us to repeat the question we asked the other day: What is
the East up to? Does she mean what she says or is she playing for time? Lt.
Colonel Ojukwu tells foreign diplomats that his region has no intention of
seceding from the rest of the federation – not unless it is ‘pushed.’ And the
East is behaving as if she is being pushed. We ourselves have not seen any
evidence of this effect.175
As far as the New Nigerian was concerned, the East could only suffer
more if it decided on secession: ‘We can’t understand why the East is so
apparently intent to inflict more hurt upon [itself]. It is in the interest
of the East for her to declare right now, without further prevarications,
exactly what her intentions are.’176
Another major indication of the role of the newspapers in the crisis
as ideological soldiers for the different groups and regions was that, a
few days after this editorial, the New Nigerian – which had, two weeks
earlier, announced that ‘in spite of the crisis it continues to be widely
circulated in the East [with] its delivery vans [going] unmolested’177 –
was ‘warned’ that the paper should no longer be circulated in the East-
ern Region.178
On its part, Tribune more or less agreed with the New Nigerian on the
implications of the statements credited to Ojukwu concerning the East-
ern Region’s position on the crisis. The Tribune stated:
After strenuous denials in the past about the intentions of Eastern Nigeria to
secede from the federation, the Eastern Governor has now said that the East
‘might suddenly find’ that it has nothing more in common with the other
regions. And the question that arises from the statement is: what next?179
For the paper, this only deepened the crisis and isolated the Eastern
Region, because ‘[i]n our view, we cannot solve our problems by ignoring
them. The problem of the East today is at the very top on the list of our
national problems. It must first be solved before we can go forward.’180
The Tribune then suggested ‘the solution’, going even further than New
Nigerian to request a military solution: ‘The Nigerian Tribune urges the
Supreme Commander [Gowon] to recognize that the time has come for
a firm solution of [sic] the Eastern problem. If we have the force and the
will to bring the East into line by armed intervention, let it be done with
dispatch.’181
175
‘What is the East Up to? (With No Apologies for Repeating the Question)’, NN, October 21,
1966.
176
Ibid. Incidentally, Zik had also warned the North in 1953 that secession would be ‘calami-
tous to its corporate existence’, ‘Dr. Zik Warns the North Secession Prophets and Propa-
gandists: It Would Be Capital Blunder’, WAP, May 15, 1953, 1.
177
‘Footnote: On the Spot Report’, NN, October 4, 1966, 6.
178
‘Motor, Carrying New Nigerian Turned Back at Onitsha’, NN, October 28, 1966.
179
‘What Next?’ NT, December 14, 1966.
180
Ibid.
181
Ibid.
The Tribune disagreed with the Pilot that the proposed meeting of the
army chiefs be held in Accra, Ghana, rather than in Lagos. The Tribune’s
position was a self-interested one. Ojukwu’s only condition for attend-
ing the meeting in Lagos accorded with the wishes of the Yoruba people:
That Northern troops in the Western Region be withdrawn to their
region and replaced by Yoruba troops.182 Therefore, when the military
governor of the Northern Region, Lieutenant Colonel Hassan Usman
Katsina, stated that he would not support such withdrawal, the Tribune
came down heavily on him: ‘We … consider the statement credited to
the Military Governor of the North as extremely provocative. For who
does this young aristocrat in military uniform think he is to seek to draw
the whole Yoruba race in battle against him and Hausas?’183
The paper claimed the ‘Hausa troops’, who were described as ‘for-
eign troops … not averse to rape, murder and high-handedness’, were
threatening to turn Yorubaland into an ‘occupied territory’. Tribune
then announced the resolve of the Yoruba, who were ‘determined to
see that their fatherland is not turned into an “occupied territory”’. As
these narratives show, by this time, the newspapers had reached a level
of such divisiveness and even hate that soldiers who were compatriots
were seen as ‘foreign troops’ as well as threats to certain parts of the
country. That was not all. Governor Katsina would be mistaken, the
Tribune averred, if he thought that Nigeria would continue to exist if
‘the East secedes or is forced to secede’:184
If the Northern Military Governor does not know it, he can carry this fact
away: The people of Western Nigeria and Lagos have taken an irrevocable
decision – if any part of Nigeria opts out of the federation, Yorubas reserve
to themselves the right to determine their own future in any association.185
It is significant that the Tribune did not see a contradiction in this and
its earlier position in the December 14, 1966 editorial in which it asked
that ‘armed intervention’ be used ‘with dispatch’ to ensure that the
Eastern Region did not secede.
In the middle of all of these, the Pilot was not ready to let go of Lagos
and refused to accept that the city was a Yoruba city. While reviewing
the state of the union after the collapse of the All-Nigeria Constitutional
182
Ibid.
183
Ibid.
184
Ibid. Tribune which had earlier asked that the East be brought into line by force changes
tone, asking: ‘Will Nigeria continue as a political unit? If so, in what form? To assume
that these questions do not arise since Nigeria MUST remain one is to fly in the face of the
facts … The truth we now face is that Eastern Nigeria is gradually breaking its links with the
rest of the country. There are powerful elements in the Region who advocate its complete
secession from Nigeria. Equally, there are powerful elements in Northern Nigeria who
are anxious to see the Ibos out of Nigeria. How do we reconcile these opposing forces?’
The paper then calls for reconciliation rather than ‘forcing’ the East back into the union.
‘Wanted: A Happy New Year’, NT, December 31, 1966, emphasis added.
185
Ibid.
Conference, the Pilot, which again abandoned its support for federal-
ism, stated that
We whole-heartedly endorse a confederal system of government for Nigeria
at least so that the inveterate enmity and bitterness existing between the
North and East can be healed by time … In the absence of a federation we
support the suggestion of Eastern Nigeria for a Council of State, comprising
equal representatives from each state or region to serve as a weak glue to
hold the country together.186
However, the Pilot added that, since ‘Lagos is jointly developed by all
regions of the federation, we suggest that All-Nigeria Constitutional
Conference should meet soon to decide the question of Lagos during the
short spell of confederation.’187 The Pilot, as it did throughout the pre-
independence period, stood resolutely for an independent Lagos. The
rejection by Oba Adeyinka Oyekan, the Oba of Lagos, of the planned
merger plan with the Western Region was given prominence in Pilot.
Oyekan stated, ‘we shall fight to the last’ because ‘our tradition is differ-
ent from that of the West’.188 Even though Lateef Jakande, the leader of
the Lagos delegation to the Lagos constitutional conference, described
Oyekan’s statement as ‘reckless’,189 the Pilot editorialized: ‘The people
of Lagos have the right to self-determination. It is their prerogative
to decide whether the federal capital should be merged with the West
or whether it should remain free from the region. This is perfectly the
people’s choice through a referendum.’190 However, Pilot did not leave
the matter entirely to a referendum: ‘We urge that Lagos should be a
Federal territory in case the country retains its federal status. And in
case of a confederation Lagos should be the country’s political capital.
In other words, Lagos should be a separate entity.’191
Such territorial narratives were usually directed against rival regions.
While the Pilot fought for Lagos, the New Nigerian also promoted minor-
ity agitation in the Eastern Region where ‘the people of Calabar and
Ogoja Provinces’ suggested a strong center with ‘states created on the
principle of ethnic grouping’.192 While it promoted such agitation in the
Eastern Region, the New Nigerian considered the ‘appeal’ led by Josiah
Sunday Olawoyin for a merger of Ilorin-Kabba province in the Northern
Region with the Western Region as ‘irrational emotions’ and a ‘nefari-
186
‘Nigerian Confederation’, WAP, November 22, 1966.
187
Ibid. For more on this, see Wale Adebanwi, ‘The City, Hegemony and Ethno-Spatial Poli-
tics: The Press and the Struggle for Lagos in Colonial Nigeria’, Nationalism and Ethnic Poli-
tics, 9:4 (2004), 25–51.
188
‘We Shall Fight Against Merger With West’,WAP, November 28, 1966: 1.
189
‘”Oyekan’s Attack is Reckless.” Jakande Defends Lagos Delegation’, WAP, November 29,
1966, 1.
190
‘Lagos State?’ November 30, 1966, 2–3.
191
Ibid.
192
‘Calabar, Ogoja Want A Strong Centre. New Memo to Ojukwu’, NN, November 24, 1966,
1.
Conclusion
As paper soldiers, the newspapers in the period before the civil war were
not unaware of what they were doing. They realized that in the ensu-
ing battle, the soldiers wielding the pen were as critical as the actual
soldiers who would eventually bear arms at the outbreak of actual hos-
tilities. Therefore, the journalists and their media institutions regarded
themselves as critical to the resolution or exacerbation of the Nigerian
crisis of nationhood.
Interesting enough, New Nigerian noted the central role of the press
in the crisis engulfing the country by ‘observing’ the tendency of
Ojukwu ‘to use the press … as a vehicle of negotiation’.194 Yet, even the
New Nigerian confessed in an earlier editorial that it too was an instru-
ment of the negotiation of power and relations of domination by the
Northern Region:
The New Nigerian seeks to be read throughout Nigeria but it has never lost
sight of the fact that it was brought into being primarily to serve the North.
It is because it considers it in the immediate as well as longer term interest
of the North that it feels obliged to comment on those misguided people – we
will put it no worse than that – whose actions are destined to bring nothing
but dishonor and disaster to the North.195
In their role in the crisis as mouthpieces or ideological soldiers of the
contending interests, the newspapers also waged battles against one
another. In this, the New Nigerian, with candor, admitted that it – like
the other newspapers – had failed the imagined nation: ‘The New Nige-
rian is conscious of its fall from grace but it has always sought to find
the truth. It has not always succeeded … [B]ut having said that let us
acknowledge that Nigeria’s press … can do much more to restore peace
in the country than they are doing.’196
Without mentioning names, but obviously in reference to the Eastern
Nigerian Outlook and Pilot, the New Nigerian also pointed to the ‘press
in certain quarters’, which seemed ‘[h]ell-rent [sic] on sensationalizing
any incident which it thinks can be regarded as favorable to their own
case and against the North’.197 For the New Nigerian, the Pilot would
perhaps typify this predilection to ‘sensationalize’ a case ‘against the
193
‘Unwarranted Agitation’, NN, September 16, 1966.
194
‘Action Not Words’, NN, Nov. 22, 1966.
195
‘At Stake – The Future of the North’, NN, September 26, 1966.
196
‘Responsibility of the Press’, NN, September 27, 1966.
197
Ibid.
198
‘Meet in Ghana’, Front page comment, WAP, December 16, 1966.
199
Ibid.
200
Ibid.
201
Ibid.
202
Ibid.
203
Ibid.
204
‘To The Future’, MP, August 30, 1966.
205
‘Keep Polemics Away’, WAP, April 21, 1966.
Akachi Odoemene
Introduction
‘We remember differently’.1 Such were the words Chimamanda Ngozi
Adichie used in her review of Chinua Achebe’s very last literary work,
There Was a Country. Indeed, when it comes to the tragic and painful
events that culminated in the civil war and their aftermath, we hardly
remember the same way, due to our differences. The critical questions,
in my opinion, are the following. How have and why do we remember
differently? Is it a case of differences in perspective? Or, is it because of
some ulterior motive, which might be sinister and/or self-serving – in
other words, a deliberate attempt to rewrite history? This underlines the
importance of memory, which shapes the nature of and trend in one’s
knowledge, understanding and interpretation of the past and its mean-
ing, particularly as we are essentially what we remember and know. In
other words, while what has happened cannot be changed, through
controlled measures its meaning can. This is so because the power to
remember in particular ways lies within humans, and narratives are
the primary forms and means through which to achieve this goal.
Writing on wars has always been fashionable and attractive for many
writers all through the ages, and the Nigeria-Biafra War is clearly not an
exception. From the period leading to the end of that war to the present
day, there has been a flurry of literature – histories, biographies, auto
biographies, diaries, memoirs, political accounts, newspaper stories, etc.
– by diverse writers who have produced both fictional and presumably
‘factual’ accounts of the war. For instance, Laurie Wiseberg noted that
from 1968 to 1969, many speculated on whether more blood or more
ink was being spilt on the battlefronts.2 The result is not surprising, as
1
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, ‘Awo vs Achebe: “We Remember Differently”’, Vanguard on-
line, November 28, 2012, www.vanguardngr.com/2012/11/achebe-at-82-we-remem-
ber-differently-by-chimamanda-adichie (accessed December 1, 2012).
2
Laurie S. Wiseberg, ‘An Emerging Literature: Studies of the Nigerian Civil War’, African
Studies Review 18:1 (April 1975), 117. Wiseberg alluded to such flurry in literature by
pointing to the vast bibliographical notes in A.H.M. Kirk-Greene, Crisis and Conflict in
Nigeria: A Documentary Sourcebook, 1966–1970, 2 vols (London: Oxford University
Press, 1971), and in Zdenek Cervenka, The Nigerian War, 1967–1970: History of the War
166
polemic flows more swiftly and more voluminously than actual schol-
arship. Aptly underlining the nature and importance of this seeming
‘scholarly tragedy’ that has befallen the Nigeria-Biafra War historio-
graphical narratives, Gavin Williams appropriately opined that
the events leading to the Biafran secession and the Nigerian Civil War itself
were the most tragic and important in the history of Nigeria. They have also
been silenced. Much is forgotten; what little is remembered is selectively
constructed, as was much written at the time. There were fine analytical
accounts and copious documentations of these events published in the
early 1970s. Since then accounts have mainly been revived to serve current
political purposes.3
The ‘selectively constructed’ narratives of the Nigeria-Biafra War
have existed both at the local and the foreign levels. On the local nar-
ratives, there were two sets. The first related to those which were often
balkanized along the wartime ‘Nigeria’ and ‘Biafra’ divides. Thus, most
of the commentators from the Nigerian side during the conflict largely
produced works that were sharply and diametrically opposed to those
done by those from the separatists on the Biafran side, particularly
by the ethnic Igbo. The nature and purposes of the majority of these
accounts have been ethnically fragmented. A second kind of balkaniza-
tion existed also on the local front, this time within the Biafra enclave
alone and related to those war narratives balkanized chiefly along
ethnic lines by diverse minority groups within the ‘Biafra enclave’. Not
surprisingly, such a crisis also existed among foreign authors. Many
of these writers have written from the perspective of the group(s) they
were well acquainted with (and on or among those who they have often
researched, in the case of scholars), and thus, had come to ‘know’,
‘understand’, and develop some level of familiarity and intimacy.
This chapter sets out to achieve two broad objectives. The first is to
examine the dynamics of balkanized narratives among both local and
foreign authors. The second is to concentrate on and critically inter-
rogate some key highlights of the war’s history that have been victim
to such balkanizations. The chapter has been structured into five sec-
tions. The second section attempts an explication of the concepts of lit-
erary separatism and ethnic balkanization in scholarship, particularly
as should be understood in the present context. The third explores the
existing narratives of the Nigeria-Biafra War. It examines three exam-
ples of ‘ethnicized balkanization’ of the civil war narratives, providing
some perspectives to their underlining traits. Some of the contentious
– Selected Bibliography and Documents (Frankfurt: Bernard & Graefe, 1971), which she saw
as excellent surveys of such a vast data bank at the time.
3
Gavin Williams, ‘Reconsidering the Nigerian Civil War’, paper presented at the Workshop
of Oxford Research Network on Government in Africa on the theme ‘Biafra and Beyond:
Identity, Democracy and Citizenship in Africa, African Studies Centre, and Department of
Politics and International Relations, June 15–16, 2007, 1.
highlights of the war’s history, which have been victims of such bal-
kanization, thus invoke false and divergent interpretations. The fourth
section engages and reassesses the third. Conclusions are drawn in the
final section.
4
Deborah Prentice and Dale Miller, eds, Cultural Divides: Understanding and Overcoming
Group Conflict (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2001), 36.
5
Eghosa E. Osaghae and Rotimi T. Suberu, ‘A History of Identities, Violence, and Stability
in Nigeria’, CRISE Working Paper 6 (January 2005), 8; Peter Lewis and Michael Bratton,
‘Attitudes Towards Democracy and Markets in Nigeria: Report of a National Opinion Sur-
vey’, (Washington, DC: Management Systems International, and International Founda-
tion for Election Systems, 2000), 27.
6
For some discussion on this, see Craig McLuckie, Nigerian Civil War Literature: Seeking an
‘Imagined Community’ (Lewiston: Edwin Mellen, 1990).
7
Williams, ‘Reconsidering the Nigerian Civil War’, 2.
discourses. However, the mere fact that such authors did not just write
first-hand, eye-witness accounts but often wrote from the perspective
of being an ‘active participant’, means that they often strived to justify
and/or rationalize their positions and actions in that saga. It became a
challenge for one to properly classify such narratives in terms of objec-
tivity. However, apart from those narratives that fall into this category,
many others are outright subjective with an ethnicized grandeur. Per-
sons on each side of the divide always narrated their stories of the war
in such a way that would justify their own stance and actions while
discrediting or even demonizing that of ‘the other’ – the enemy during
the conflict. This is important, as the narratives often give some inkling
into how events were constructed into such conspiratorial views.
In an effort to put the record straight and also justify their actions,
motives, vision, and mission, Adewale Ademoyega wrote an epic anal-
ogy of the first military coup d’état in Nigeria’s history, Why We Struck:
The Story of the First Nigerian Coup.8 This is an impressive, dispassionate,
and enthralling narrative presented in lucid prose. This is not surprising
given the background of the author. He is a graduate of History from
the University of London. Ademoyega clearly dispelled many myths,
misconceptions, and half-truths about that coup, especially held by
many who push the case of an ethnic conspiracy. The book provides
further insights into the details of and developments involved in the
coup through an unambiguous presentation. A stellar eyewitness and
active-participant account, his narrative about the causes, motives,
visions, and missions of the coup is unquestionably solid. Indeed, he
presents a narrative that is in tension with and diametrically opposed to
those of the northern elite.
Effectively combining the titles of the works of two participants in
that coup, Wale Ademoyega and Ben Gbulie, A.M. Mainasara’s The Five
Majors: Why They Struck is the northern version of Nigeria’s first mili-
tary coup d’état.9 In other words, this work is an intentional repudiation
of the participants’ version of what happened. Therefore, its objective is
clear. In it, Mainasara, a northern historian from Kano, seriously seeks
to counter the positions of the January 1966 participants in the coup.
In doing so, he makes rather sweeping allegations hinged on the grand
narrative of Igbo conspiracy. So protective of the North is Mainasara’s
narrative that it critically but naively challenges what seems to be a
commonly held opinion in most other accounts of one primary cause of
the first coup: the corrupt nature of the northern-led First Republic.10
Mainasara’s narrative has always been a central reference for those
8
Adewale Ademoyega, Why We Struck: The Story of the First Nigerian Coup (Ibadan: Evans,
1981).
9
A.M. Mainasara, The Five Majors: Why They Struck (Zaria: Hudahuda, 1982).
10
All the works referenced here and many others were very critical of the First Republic
as a bastion of corruption, impunity and inept and high-handed leadership – conditions
which made a military coup largely unavoidable.
who subscribe to the Igbo coup and conspiracy theory, especially in the
North.
My Command: An Account of the Nigerian Civil War by Olusegun Oba-
sanjo is another interesting civil war narrative.11 Written by a major
actor, it comes across as a self-serving account that denigrated almost
every other notable personality, glorified his own career, and extoled his
acts in furthering the war. Despite these challenges, it is an important
resource as it also exposed some truth of that conflict. It was written
from a usual Nigerian perspective – as expected, given his role in the war
– and also presented a convenient analogy, leaving out critical issues
about which, from all indications, he must have been knowledgeable.12
When compared to Alexander Madiebo’s account, the dichotomy is
quite glaring. Madiebo, who also largely hyped his career and his role
in the war in his account, offered a Biafran version instead and gener-
ally presented Biafra as an inevitable child of necessity. Madiebo equally
closed many gaps Obasanjo left agape.13
General Yakubu Gowon was the focus of two important biographies
that also covered the Nigeria-Biafra War, typically presenting a mix of
both Nigerian and northern versions of the narrative, which is hinged
on Igbo conspiracy and clearly explicated why northern peoples had
to do what they did (in May, July, and September 1966).14 While they
managed to put the records straight on certain contested issues, they
also contained factual errors aimed at promoting the northern version
of the war story. Indeed, their failure to come clean on certain issues
of that war, as one now knows from many other authoritative sources,
underlined and reflected a level of subjectivity which was sectionally
motivated.
There Was a Country: A Personal History of Biafra, Chinualumogu
Achebe’s last work, is, perhaps, the most controversial narrative of the
Nigeria-Biafra War.15 Similarly, it has generated more commentaries
11
Olusegun Obasanjo, My Command: An Account of the Nigerian Civil War, 1967–1970
(London: Heinemann, 1981).
12
It is instructive that some of his colleagues, like Lt Gen. Alani Akinrinade (retired) and
Brig. Gen. Godwin Alabi-Isama (retired), have revealed that Obasanjo’s war account was
full of ‘serious and historical errors’ and constituted a ‘self-glorification’ – see Ade Adeso-
moju, ‘Obasanjo’s Civil War Book, Self-Glorification, Ex-Generals’, Punch newspaper on-
line (July 19, 2013), www.punchng.com/news/obasanjos-civil-war-book-self-glorifica-
tion-ex-generals (accessed April 12, 2014). There is also evidence to show that Obasanjo
committed many strategic blunders in leading the Commando unit – facts that Obasanjo
conveniently avoided in his narrative. See Godwin Alabi-Isama, The Tragedy of Victory:
On-the-Spot Account of the Nigeria-Biafra War in the Atlantic Theatre (Ibadan: Spectrum,
2013).
13
Alexander A. Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution and the Biafran War (Enugu: Fourth Di-
mension, 2000).
14
John D. Clarke, Yakubu Gowon: Faith in a United Nigeria (London: Routledge, 1987); Isawa
J. Elaigwu, Gowon: The Biography of a Soldier-Statesman (Ibadan: West Books, 1986).
15
Chinua Achebe, There Was a Country: A Personal History of Biafra (New York: Penguin,
2012).
and reviews from different sections of the country and elsewhere than
any other. The vast majority of ethnic Igbo relate to and identify with
this narrative, but it has incensed some people from other parts of the
country, with the exception of a few Nigerian revisionists. While Achebe
has hardly said anything radically different from the widely held Igbo
view of the war saga, his voice added a tone of legitimacy, integrity, and
finality to such narrative – exactly the reason for the controversy. The
central brouhaha and contention in Achebe’s narrative is his take on
the Igbo genocide, in which he accused General Yakubu Gowon and
Chief Obafemi Awolowo of grave complicity, culpability, and liability.
Such an ascription never went down well with many, especially the
ethnic Yoruba, many of whom rose in defense of their deified leader and
hero Awolowo.16 Many did so even before seeing the book, not to talk of
reading it, and resorted to attacking the personality, integrity, and cred-
ibility of Achebe as they denied such an accusations about their leader.
But what the denials – which are commonplace today – are really about
is quite unclear and surprising. The issue, which has opened an ongoing
debate emphasizing how one people’s hero is another’s war criminal, is
discussed further below.
their rather anti-Igbo stance and disdain for the Biafran cause; they
exhibited themselves as advocates of minority groups’ rights. Interest-
ingly though, they scarcely utilized the northern-style rhetoric of ‘Igbo
conspiracy and domination’ in doing so. Instead, one could locate their
resentments and dissent in the ‘popular’ fears of the minority groups
within the enclave who had to contend with the overwhelming domi-
nance and overbearing influence of the ethnic Igbo. To underscore their
anti-Biafran stance, and as convinced believers in ‘one Nigeria’, both
men served on the Nigerian side against the Biafra State during the war,
and played active roles to ensure Biafra’s collapse.
Chief Nkere Uwem Akpan’s narrative19 is a dissention narrative from
a vantage point – an ‘insider’s perspective’. Akpan was Chief Secretary
to the Biafran Government and Head of the Biafran Civil Service. His
narrative is very important as it comes first hand from the head who
held together and managed Biafra’s incredibly resilient administra-
tion. Lacking, however, is a critical focus on his role as secretary of the
government of Biafra, despite all odds and in the midst of fierce battles
and carnage in Biafra. One notes that to evade this significant challenge
in his account, Akpan presented a picture of one who was not really
trusted and was consequently isolated within the wartime administra-
tion, basically because he was not ethnic Igbo: he was Efik. Even if this
was so – though it is highly unlikely – it seems Akpan merely told an
expedient version of the war story, leaving out his critical roles in that
administration.20
General Philip Effiong’s Nigeria and Biafra: My Story also falls in
such refreshing counter-narratives of the Nigeria-Biafra War. Indeed,
it is one of the four much-anticipated accounts of this most significant
socio-political development in Nigeria’s history – an account by one of
its key participants, especially from the Biafran side.21 He was a serious
believer in ‘one Nigeria’ Thus, he did not really want Biafra but neither
did he denounce Biafra nor regret fighting on its side. He also never
claimed that he was deceived or coerced into joining ‘the rebellion’.
However, he incidentally found himself on the Biafran side and had to
fight in ‘self-defense’, which he argues is not ‘tantamount to a rebel-
lion as some people have tried to make out’.22 In other words, at best,
his narrative is a Nigerian view as he ‘wrote essentially as a Nigerian
19
Nkere U. Akpan, The Struggle for Secession 1966–1970: A Personal Account of the Nigerian
Civil War (London: Frank Cass, 1972).
20
Chief Akpan was not just highly placed in the Biafran administration throughout its
three-year existence, but in fact one of the hand-picked half-dozen men who exited Biafra
with its leader, Odumegwu Ojukwu, on the eve of its collapse.
21
The others being those from the chief protagonists of that war – Gowon, Odumegwu
Ojukwu and Awolowo – if they will ever be written, as two have gone and, it seems, with-
out documenting their own accounts.
22
Philip Efiong, Nigeria and Biafra: My Story (New York: African Tree Press, 2007).
23
Pini Jason, ‘Nigeria and Biafra: My Story by General Philip Efiong, A Review at the Public
Presentation at the Sheraton Hotel, Abuja’, March 31, 2005, www.kwenu.com/bookre-
view/philip_efiong.htm (accessed September 17, 2014).
24
Elaigwu, Gowon, 52–54, 61; Wale Adebanwi, ‘Death, National Memory and the Social
Construction of Heroism’, Journal of African History, 49:3 (2008), 424.
25
Robin Cohen, ‘A Greater South: A Reinterpretation of the Prelude to the Nigerian Civil
War’, Manchester Papers on Development 3:3 (November 1987), 1.
26
Murray Last, ‘Reconciliation and Memory in Postwar Nigeria’, in V. Das, A. Kleinman, M.
Ramphele, and P. Reynolds, eds, Violence and Subjectivity (Berkeley: University of Califor-
nia Press, 2000), 316.
27
Richard Sklar, ‘Nigeria/Biafra’, Africa Today 16:1 (February-March 1969); John de St.
Jorre, The Brothers’ War: Biafra and Nigeria (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1972).
28
Last, ‘Reconciliation and Memory’, 315, emphasis added.
29
Rex Niven, The War of Nigerian Unity (London: Evans, 1970); Kirk-Greene, Crisis and Con-
flict; Anthony H.M. Kirk-Greene, ‘The Genesis of the Nigerian Civil War and the Theory
of Fear’, Research Report 27, Scandinavian Institute of African Studies (Uppsala), 1975.
30
Akachi Odoemene, ‘“Remember to Forget”: The Nigeria-Biafra War, History, and the Poli-
tics of Memory’, in The Nigeria-Biafra War: Genocide and the Politics of Memory, edited by
Chima J. Korieh (New York: Cambria, 2012), 175.
31
Murray Last, ‘Nation-breaking and Not-belonging in Nigeria: Withdrawal, Resistance,
Riot?’ unpublished conference paper, European Conference of African Studies, Leipzig,
2009.
32
This was noted in Murray Last’s profile as the author of an article. See Murray Last, ‘The
Search for Security in Muslim Northern Nigeria’, Africa 78:1 (2008), 41.
33
‘Centre of African Studies Research Associates’, www.soas.ac.uk/cas/members/re-
searchassociates (accessed July 15, 2014).
34
Forsyth, The Biafra Story, 7.
35
Ibid., 228–9.
36
Frederick Forsyth, Emeka 2nd edn (Oxford: Spectrum Books, 1993).
37
See Suzanne Cronje, The World and Nigeria: The Diplomatic History of the Biafran War,
1967–1970 (New York: Sidgwick and Jackson, 1972).
38
Efiong, Nigeria and Biafra, 1.
the country’s institutions and causes with its repercussions being felt in
contemporary times.
39
One must concede that indeed, facts may be ‘sacred’, as is often said, but facts are not
truths; facts can and often do contradict themselves.
40
It was clear that the officers involved in the January coup were sympathetic to the UPGA,
which was an alliance of three political parties at the time – the National Council of
Nigerian Citizens (NCNC), the Action Group (AG) and the United Middle-Belt Congress
(UMBC) – with the aim of confronting and checking the excesses of the Northern People’s
Congress, in alliance with the Nigerian National Democratic Party. For instance, there
were the bitter regional struggles 1962–66, the rigged federal elections in 1964, the un-
healthy political practices of the regionally dominated political parties (as exemplified in
the despotic quelling of the Tiv uprisings of 1964), the Western Region’s crisis follow-
ing the flawed regional elections in 1965, the politically manipulated census exercise of
1962–1963 (the results of which were published in February 1964), and the revolting
corruption that pervaded the entire political spectrum.
41
Ademoyega, Why We Struck.
and then even more by the time of the coup’s execution.42 The ethnic
origins of the majority of the men who plotted the coup clearly were
Igbo.43 While asserting that most of them were of Igbo extraction and
standing by that assertion, it is important to note that quite a good
number of these dissident soldiers, including Nzeogwu, hailed from
western Igboland (Anioma Igbo/Ibo/Ika-Ibo, as they are variously
called). Many, if not most, of those indigenes – even some who par-
ticipated in that coup – did not identify themselves as Igbo, but rather
claimed a different ethnic identity.44 But, does the fact of disproportion-
ate Igbo involvement in the coup qualify it as an ‘Igbo coup’?
One would imagine that anyone remotely familiar with the nature and
dynamics of plotting a coup would make two concessions. The first is
that it is a very risky and potentially deadly business – an act of treason
against the State – and thus, one of the most dangerous of activities.
The second point is that by its clear disposition – often a matter of life
and death, as noted above – it is often sworn to and held in secrecy, con-
fidentiality, and privacy. The January 1966 event was a real coup and
had the attributes of one.45 Igbo civilians and even so many others in the
military were NOT involved or informed. Thus, the plotters were alone
on this and never acted for the Igbo – and never claimed to have done
so – even as they and their actions were widely admired and celebrated
in not only the eastern parts of the country but also elsewhere through-
out the country, such as in the West, where, according to Achebe,
there were large celebrations for the heroes’ accomplishments as well
as in the North, particularly among the Middle-Belt indigenes who felt
relieved from the suffocating grip of the ‘Hausa-Fulani oligarchy’.46 In
other words, only those who plotted and executed the January 1966
coup should have been held responsible for their actions.
The eventual outcome of the coup was yet another reason why
many term it an ‘Igbo coup’.47 Especially notable were the failure of
42
This led to the popular allusions to ‘the five Majors’, which included the original trio and
then Donatus Okafor and Christopher Anuforo. Maj. Timothy Onwuatuegwu equally
played significant and decisive roles in that coup and was considered one of the inner
circle members too.
43
Of the original trio, two were Igbo and one was Yoruba, and of the later ‘five Majors’,
four were Igbo. Finally, of the eventual number of the planners at the time of the coup’s
execution, more than 65 percent were of Igbo extraction.
44
Denials by previously known Igbo sub-groups in current Delta, Rivers, and Cross River
states of their Igbo identity may not be unconnected with their feeling of insecurity in
identifying with the Igbo after the loss of the war. For instance, one of the prominent
figures in the January 1966 coup, Col Mike Okwechime, who hails from the same place
as Major Chukwuma Nzeogwu and has always been labelled as Igbo, has openly and con-
sistently denied being Igbo. For sure, he is not alone.
45
It is on record that even the men ‘recruited’ to execute the putsch did not know what was
going on until the last hour.
46
Achebe, There Was a Country; Efiong, Nigeria and Biafra; Cohen, ‘A Greater South’.
47
By the time the coup ended, 15 people had been killed: six northerners, three westerners,
and one Igbo. A second Igbo officer was wrongly killed by loyal troops who presumed he
the ‘Eastern plot’ and the haphazard nature of the killings that largely
bypassed the Igbo in the army and in political office.48 But these out-
comes were largely circumstantial. For instance, as Effiong showed,
the Eastern plot even began to fail long before the actual coup took
place because its original coordinator, Major Chudi Sokie, was posted
to India. This sudden posting fundamentally affected their eastern plot
and confused the rebels who totally lost focus about what to do with
the East. This was essentially why Efeajuna and Donatus Okafor, having
implemented the coup in Lagos, started racing to Enugu city by road
to take charge there. This failed as loyal troops took firm control before
they came into the city.49
Furthermore, the rebels derided Major-General Aguiyi-Ironsi, an
Igbo and the Supreme Commander of the Army, which clearly marked
him for death. However, he survived for two reasons. First, he was
alerted by his close friend, Col James Pam, of the violence that had
attended such mutinous activities in the early hours of January 15,
and thus escaped assassination. He then quickly commenced crush-
ing the coup.50 Second, he survived because the officers tasked with
his assassination, Major Donatus Okafor and another junior officer,
were noted as largely inept and complete failures.51 Okafor, as Effiong
argued, clearly lacked the capacity needed to carry out such a critical
task. Furthermore, the key leaders of the coup took Aguiyi-Ironsi for
granted and grossly underestimated him – a crucial mistake on their
part.52 In the case of the Igbo political leaders, evidence clearly suggests
that Dr Nnamdi Azikiwe’s circumstances remain controversial, though
it is known that he was out of the country at the time, while Dr Michael
Okpara, the Premier of Eastern Region, survived because of the lack
of coordination as well as the presence of the visiting Head of State of
Cyprus, Archbishop Makarios.53 Dr Kingsley Mbadiwe, the Minister of
Trade, ‘escaped across open gardens and hid in the empty State House,
home of the absent President Azikiwe … one place the soldiers never
thought of searching’.54
For some critical insight into the motives, intentions and mission
of the men who plotted the coup, one must turn to one of the original
trio, Ademoyega. He was the only inner-circle ringleader of the coup
to narrate and document what happened for posterity. To my mind,
was one of the plotters of the coup; see Forsyth, The Biafra Story, 39.
48
Adebanwi, ‘Death, National Memory and the Social Construction’, 424.
49
Forsyth, The Biafra Story, 37–39.
50
Achebe, There Was a Country; Efiong, Nigeria and Biafra; Cohen, ‘The Army and Trade Un-
ions’; Forsyth, The Biafra Story, 38.
51
Efiong, Nigeria and Biafra, 40.
52
Ibid, 42.
53
Ibid.; Forsyth, The Biafra Story; Ryszard Kapuściński, trans. Klara Glowczewska, The Shad-
ow of the Sun (New York: Vintage Books, 2002), 100–101; Forsyth, The Biafra Story, 38.
54
Forsyth, The Biafra Story, 36.
55
Ademoyega, Why We Struck, 60.
56
It is instructive that Ademoyega and two others, Anuforo and Onwuatuegwu, had each
in turn commanded troops in the Makurdi punitive expedition against Tiv rioters who
were opposed to the high-handedness and oppression of the Sarduana government in the
North.
57
This fact was to be confirmed by Brigadier General Ibrahim Haruna, the erstwhile Gener-
al Officer Commanding (GOC), 2nd Division of the Army during the civil war. He revealed
this during his testimony as at the Oputa Panel session; see Ademoyega, Why We Struck.
58
Awolowo’s radical democratic socialist posture greatly endeared him to these coupists. It
is instructive that Chief Awolowo and his men were jailed for attempting to violently over-
throw the same Balewa government, which eventually fell at the hands of the coupists.
59
Ademoyega, Why We Struck, 33.
Nigeria.60 In this regard, Biodun Jeyifo aptly noted that ‘as a matter
of fact, there is clear evidence that some of the coup plotters had the
intension of making or “forcing” Chief Awolowo to assume the office of
prime minister’.61
So, where lies the theory of Igbo coup and conspiracy in the coup’s
vision and mission? These facts are certainly not consistent with a typi-
cal Igbo coup analogy. Again, if that was actually an Igbo coup, why
was it also foiled by the Igbo? For instance, Aguiyi-Ironsi’s efforts at
quashing the January 1966 coup are not unknown.62 Again, many
other notable Igbo Army officers, like Col Hilary Njoku, Major Alexan-
der Madiebo and Lt Col Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu, aligned
with their Supreme Commander Aguiyi-Ironsi in foiling that coup.
Nzeogwu, in an interview, partly blamed Odumegwu Ojukwu for the
failure of the coup, noting that ‘if Ojukwu had joined us, the take-over
would have succeeded’.63 Again, there was Major Arthur Unegbu who
refused to cooperate with the rebels, refusing to give them the keys to
the armory for which he paid the ultimate price: the loss of his life.64
In many circles, the coup has been labeled as an Igbo coup because of
the number of Igbo officers involved and the nature of its eventual out-
come – both of which were clearly circumstantial. This view, however,
does not consider the entirety of the facts. In fact, if the January 1966
coup d’état would pass for an Igbo coup in those regards – and all Igbo
held accountable and punitively punished for it, as was the case – the
more-recent Boko Haram attacks should equally pass for Islamic plots
for which every Muslim in the country should be held accountable,
hounded, severely persecuted, and punished, irrespective of whether or
not they knew about, believed in, or supported the plots or not. Any
arguments to the contrary would be outlandish, childish, and grossly
disingenuous.
60
Ben Gbulie, Nigeria’s Five Majors: Coup d’État of 15th January 1966 – First Inside Account
(Onitsha: Africana Educational Publishers, 1981), 18, 58, 127.
61
Biodun Jeyifo, ‘First, There Was A Country; Then There Wasn’t: Reflections on Achebe’s
New Book’ Journal of Asian and African Studies 48:6 (2013), 686.
62
For instance, see Efiong, Nigeria and Biafra; Gbulie, Nigeria’s Five Majors; Ademoyega, Why
We Struck; and Forsyth, The Biafra Story.
63
Quoted in Cohen, ‘A Greater South’, 15.
64
Efiong, Nigeria and Biafra; and Forsyth, The Biafra Story, 36.
It was something else beyond a coup; it was the military part of a larger
northern communal action of extermination targeting the Igbo, albeit
erroneously. This was unlike the case in the first military coup d’état of
January 15, 1966, where there was a clear conspiracy that involved all
segments of the northern society: the ruling elites, the civil servants,
the intelligentsia, the military, and even the ordinary person.65 Unlike
a typical coup, it lacked secrecy; it was openly discussed among some
of the officers. Rumors circulated among different military units across
the country.
The buildup and planning for the so-called counter-coup started
soon after the January 1966 coup under the leadership of Lt Col Mur-
tala Muhammed, and virtually all the top northern military officers
were involved in it.66 The detailed planning, widespread involvement,
and methodical execution of that conspiratorial plan showed it was
thought out and exceptional. Through that Army rampage part, the
Igbo were clinically eliminated: out of a total of 210 military personnel
killed, 204 were Igbo (185 from the Eastern Region and 19 from the
Mid-West), and six were Yoruba from the Western Region. Unsurpris-
ingly, not a single person from the Northern Region was killed.67 At the
end of this purge, the horrendous spate of targeted killings were soon
extended to unsuspecting, innocent Igbo civilians – men, women and
children – who lived in several parts of Nigeria, especially in the North-
ern Region.
Third, the reasons given (and still being advanced) for such mutinous
action included Igbo coup and Igbo domination, undue promotion of
Igbo officers, the Aguiyi-Ironsi regime being run mostly by Igbo techno-
crats and politicians, and non-prosecution of the mostly Igbo actors in
the January 1966 coup. These reasons did not truly reflect the realities
on the ground at that time, but they were only a ploy by the North to jus-
tify its conspiracy and acts.68 For instance, of Aguiyi-Ironsi administra-
tion’s nine-man Supreme Military Council (SMC), only one other Igbo
(apart from himself) – Lt Col Ojukwu – was a member.69 All others were
non-Igbo persons. Similarly, in the Executive Council, which comprised
the SMC and six others, only two were from the Eastern Region: the
Attorney General, Mr Onyiuke (an Igbo) and the Inspector-General of
65
Achebe, There Was a Country; Efiong, Nigeria and Biafra; Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution.
For instance, Madiebo reports of a young Hausa informant, who had come by night to in-
form him in the presence of another Igbo officer, who told him of the planned attacks on
the Igbo and that while the civilians were ready to act, the soldiers were still undecided.
66
Sani Tukur, ‘Why We Killed Ironsi and Installed Gowon – Jeremiah Useni’ (September
27, 2013), www.premiumtimesng.com/news/145535-interview-killed-ironsi-installed-
gowon-jeremiah-useni.html (accessed May 23, 2014).
67
Achebe, There Was a Country, 83; and Efiong, Nigeria and Biafra.
68
Adebanwi, ‘Death, National Memory and the Social Construction’, 424; Ademoyega,
Why We Struck, 110–111; and Elaigwu, Gowon, 52–54.
69
Lt Col Ojukwu had an ex officio membership by virtue of being one of the Regional Mili-
tary Governors.
70
Forsyth, The Biafra Story, 37. Note that both men had held these respective offices before
the January coup. Aguiyi-Ironsi’s administration only retained them in such positions.
71
Ibid., 37.
72
Adebanwi, ‘Death, National Memory and the Social Construction’, 424; Elaigwu, Gowon,
52–54.
73
Efiong, Nigeria and Biafra.
74
Philip U. Effiong, ‘Forty Years Later, the War hasn’t Ended’, in The Nigeria-Biafra War, ed-
ited by Chima Korieh (Amherst, NY: Cambria, 2012), 264–265; and Achebe, There Was a
Country, 121–122.
75
Elaigwu, Gowon, 61; Adebanwi, ‘Death, National Memory and the Social Construction’,
424.
76
Efiong, Nigeria and Biafra, 23.
77
Ibid., 20, 21.
writers have tended to vilify and repudiate the plotters of the January
1966 coup, while the plotters of the July 1966 coup seem to have been
celebrated, for whatever reason. For instance, people criticized, sneered,
and disparaged the plotters of the January 1966 coup while those
involved in the July mutiny have largely been honored in some way or
the other by the Nigerian state.78 Clearly, such lopsided treatment also
feeds into the civil war’s ethnicized narratives. A coup is a coup however
it turns out, whether it failed or succeeded. Coups are illegitimate and
unconstitutional acts: treasonable crimes that must be seen and under-
stood for what they are.79 Interestingly, the allegations against Aguiyi-
Ironsi of ‘inaction against illegal action’ and ‘condoning indiscipline
or treason’ regarding the January 1966 coup by northern officers and
politicians is also remarkable in this instance.80 One wonders if the July
1966 mutiny was any less an illegal and treasonable action, or whether
its actors were not as guilty as those of the January 1966 coup. Again,
was Gowon not as guilty as Aguiyi-Ironsi was – if one accepts that line
of thought – for failing to take action against the rebellious northern
officers, of which he was one?
78
None of those involved in the first military coup has ever been honored in any form.
Even the portrait of the presumed leader of the coup, Nzeogwu, which was created by
Olusegun Obasanjo, received a great deal of criticism and protest by the northern elite
and students; see Cohen, ‘A Greater South’, 1. By contrast, the planners and participants
of the second coup have been commemorated. For instance, Murtala Mohammed has
been memorialized and immortalized, while Yakubu Gowon, Yakubu Danjuma, Jeremiah
Useni, and the like, are still celebrated, revered, and honored, even as recently as during
the centenary celebrations in January 2014.
79
The different treatment given to the different coups has been partly responsible for the
upsurge of coups, or the development of a ‘coup culture’, in Nigeria.
80
Adebanwi, ‘Death, National Memory and the Social Construction’, 424; and Elaigwu,
Gowon, 61.
81
Clarke, Yakubu Gowon, 87.
82
The Igbo were not the only victims of such genocidal acts; many other groups within the
Biafran enclave were equally so treated. However, the Igbo were clearly the main targets.
or not’.88 Indeed, such threats were carried out. For instance, Lt Col
Olusegun Obasanjo, Commander of the Third Marine Commando, in
June 1969 ordered his air force in the south of Igboland to shoot down
an International Committee of the Red Cross relief plane bringing in
urgent supplies to Biafra – an action that outraged the international
community.89 As soon-to-be President of the USA Richard Nixon
unequivocally noted,
efforts to relieve the Biafran people have been thwarted by the desire of
the central government of Nigeria to pursue total and unconditional vic-
tory and by the fear of the Ibo [sic] people that surrender means wholesale
atrocities and genocide … But genocide is what is taking place right now
– and starvation is the grim reaper.90
Indeed, due to such inhumane and immoral policies, humanitarian
crises of huge proportions ensued; more than a million people, mostly
children, died of gruesome starvation and attrition.
Even at the war’s end the victorious Nigerian Government still con-
tinued its starvation policy on the vanquished, starving, and dying erst-
while Biafrans. For instance, the Uli airstrip, which was pivotal during
the war as the base for humanitarian supplies and was used to deliver
7,000 tons of food and relief supplies to Biafra in December 1969, was
completely razed. By doing so, the government shut off ‘the quickest
relief route’ into the hunger-stricken areas. Furthermore, the victorious
government allowed only 8,000 tons of food to go into Biafra monthly,
instead of the 20,000 to 40,000 tons that was needed. President Nixon
criticized the State Department, which oversaw the US Agency for
International Development (USAID), which had agreed to the 8,000-
ton target, noting that the department ‘just [doesn’t] care’ and ‘they’ve
let all these people die’.91
Starvation was not the only weapon used by the Nigerian Govern-
ment to cause mass deaths of innocent civilians in Biafra. There was
also the case of chemical poisoning of foodstuffs being brought into
Biafra. Some foreign correspondents located in Biafra were able to
‘provide detailed cogent evidence that foodstuffs reaching Biafra from
Nigeria have in the past been treated with Arsenic, Cyanide, and other
poisons.’92 This might sound rather outlandish and incredible, but its
veracity was confirmed by some outside experts: ‘a team headed by U.S.
88
Washington Post, June 7, 1969.
89
Obasanjo asked Harold Wilson, the British Prime Minister, for help to sort out the out-
raged international response to this atrocity, which Obasanjo noted in his memoirs; see
Obasanjo, My Command, 165; ‘Canada Blocks Peace, Says Biafran Official’, The Windsor
Star (Ontario), October 9, 1969, 6.
90
President Richard Nixon’s speech during a presidential campaign, September 9, 1968.
91
All cited from Joseph E. Thompson, American Policy and African Famine: The Nigeria-Biafra
War, 1966–1970 (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1990) supra note 7; 153, 156,159.
92
Daily Telegraph, July 8, 1968.
93
Jacobs, The Brutality of Nations, 33.
94
E. Okocha, Blood on the Niger: The First Black on Black Genocide: The Untold Story of the
Asaba Massacre in the Nigerian Civil War (Lagos: Triatlantic, 2006).
95
Sufuyan Ojeifo and Lemmy Ughegbe, ‘No Regrets for the Asaba Massacre of Igbo-Haru-
na’, Vanguard, October 10, 2001.
96
He held this post until Olusegun Obasanjo replaced him.
97
Quote from Achebe, There Was a Country, 138. Incidentally, one of his wartime col-
leagues, Brigadier General Godwin Alabi-Isama clearly noted him as one of Nigeria’s ‘for-
gotten war heroes’; see Alabi-Isama, The Tragedy of Victory.
98
Stern Magazine (Berlin), August 18, 1968.
move.’99 He was also reported to have told a German news weekly that ‘it
is my job to kill Biafrans, as many as I am able to’, including persons not
‘bearing arms’.100 Furthermore, as L. Garrison reported, Adekunle lived
up to such threats. In the fall of 1968 as he advanced with his forces,
‘thousands of Ibo male civilians were sought out and slaughtered’,
and ‘looting and burning’ of cities and villages were systematic.101 In
another instance, he averred that aid to Biafra was ‘misguided humani-
tarian rubbish … If children must die first, then that is too bad, just too
bad’.102 This later statement ‘caused such an international uproar that
the federal government of Nigeria found itself in the unenviable posi-
tion of having to apologize for the actions of not only Adekunle but also
of Haruna, leader of Asaba Massacre infamy’.103
Later on when confronted with the severity of his actions, Adekunle,
during a 2004 interview, opined: ‘I did not want this war. I did not start
this war – Ojukwu did. But I want to win this war. So I must kill Igbos.
Sorry!’104 Even Col Murtala Mohammed was equally complicit in the
mass killing of innocent civilians. It would suffice to quote Chief Ena-
horo at length in this regard.
I was the one that stopped late Gen. Murtala Mohammed from further mas-
sacre of innocent children and mothers. At a point when Britain refused
to sell further arms to Nigeria because they had ample evidence from the
Red Cross of the federal forces killing innocent civilians, I confronted Gowon
with the fact and that the only way I can get Britain through my contact
with their High Commissioner to resume a supply of weapon to Nigeria was
that Murtala had to leave that war sector. Either Murtala leaves or I will
have to leave his cabinet. Gowon told me that he is willing to call a meeting
and on the condition I will be the one to confront Murtala … At the meeting
of the Federal Executive Council, I confronted Mohammed with elaborate
evidence complete with photographs. He was livid. He could not refute
them.105
99
Bridget Conley-Zilkic and Samuel Totten, ‘Easier Said Than Done: The Challenges of
Preventing and Responding to Genocide’, in Century of Genocide: Critical Essays and Eye-
witness Accounts, 3rd Edition, edited by S. Totten and W. Parsons (New York: Routledge,
2008), 521; J. Doyle, ‘State Dept. Ponders End to U.S. Neutrality on Biafra’, Boston Globe,
November 30, 1968, 7.
100
Hannibal Travis, ‘Ultranationalist Genocides: Failures of Global Justice in Nigeria and Pa-
kistan’, International Journal on Minority and Group Rights 21 (2014), 417; P. Lust, ‘Biafra
Could Be Rescued’, Canadian Jewish Chronicle Review (November 1, 1968), 2.
101
L. Garrison, ‘Fear of Genocide Fires Biafrans in Losing Battle’, Saskatoon Star-Phoenix,
September 23, 1968, 20.
102
Achebe, There Was a Country; and Jacobs, The Brutality of Nations.
103
Achebe, There Was a Country.
104
Guardian, July 25, 2004.
105
The Nigerian and Africa Magazine, March 10, 1998. Chief Enahoro made this exposé dur-
ing a kind of reconciliation meeting with some Igbo people in New Jersey organized by
Jumoke Ogunkeyede, head of the United Committee to Save Nigeria. It is instructive that
both Gowon and Enahoro were alive when this transcript was published and none refuted
it.
106
Travis, ‘Ultranationalist Genocides’, 418; Charles L. Robertson, International Politics since
World War II: A Short History (London: M.E. Sharpe, 1997), 163; Jacobs, The Brutality
of Nations, 261; Roger Morris, Uncertain Greatness: Henry Kissinger and American Foreign
Policy (London and New York: Quartet, 1977), 122.
107
Jacobs, The Brutality of Nations, 261.
108
For a discussion of this self-serving interest of Britain, see Chibuike Uche, ‘Oil, British
Interest and the Nigerian Civil War’, Journal of African History 49:1 (2008).
109
Karen E. Smith, Genocide and the Europeans (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
2010), 77.
110
One of the observers, Major-General Arthur Raab of Sweden, who insisted on visiting
the site of a reported massacre of 500 Biafrans, was barred by the Nigerian commander
Adekunle, who threatened to have him ‘whipped by his boys’. See ‘Nigeria War Observers
Angered by Adekunle’, Montreal Gazette, October 30, 1968, 5.
111
President Richard Nixon’s speech.
112
One wishes to emphasize that this was/has been the crux of the often disparaging criti-
cisms of Chinua Achebe’s There Was a Country. This has been mainly by the ethnic Yor-
uba, who felt embarrassed by Achebe’s accusation of Awolowo being one of the master-
minds of the genocide in Biafra.
113
Lawrence Chinedu Nwobu, ‘Awo vs. Achebe: That the Truth Should Set Us Free!’, Nigeria
Village Square, October 18, 2013, www.nigeriavillagesquare.com/articles/awo-versus-
achebe-that-the-truth-should-set-us-free.html (accessed August 3, 2014).
114
Indeed, a Yoruba friend, who incidentally holds a doctorate degree in history, actually de-
nied such a thing ever happened, but he came back to me after a few days to acknowledge
that he has been briefed on it. So many are still unaware of this or why it was ‘necessary’.
115
See Ifi Amadiume and Abdullahi A. An-Na’im, The Politics of Memory: Truth, Healing and
Social Justice (London; New York: Zed, 2000).
116
Fred Onyeoziri, ‘What Caused the Nigerian Civil War’, in Eghosa Osaghae, Ebere On-
wudiwe, and Rotimi Suberu, eds, The Nigerian Civil War and Its Aftermath (Ibadan: John
Conclusion
The Nigeria-Biafra War was characteristically an ethnic conflict and is
still largely seen along ethnic lines. Its narratives have also followed the
same sectional or ethnic pattern. One is not unsure of the perspectives
to the war of, say, the northern elite who promote an ‘Igbo conspiracy’
view, or the Igbo elite who uphold a ‘Northern conspiracy’ interpreta-
tion. Indeed, these conspiracy views are quite straightforward in point-
ing to inordinate ambitions and acts of each suspected group. The
reasons for holding such conspiratorial views are equally understand-
able but may not be valid, as we have seen earlier. Instructively, what
is copiously missing in the whole narrative discourse is an adequate
account of the divided attitude towards the war among the Yoruba
political elites. In other words, there is not any elaborated ‘Yoruba view’
of such nature that could have been incorporated into this discourse.
However, what unmistakably exist are Igbo tropes of conspiracy and
betrayal by the Yoruba in relation to that war. This is, however, beyond
the mandate and scope of the present discourse.
No one war narrative tells the whole story or presents the whole
facts. Every narrative has some value attached to it, whether sectional,
ethnic, or whatever else. But such values only become productive to the
extent that they all collectively speak to one another in an interactive,
meaningful, and creative manner, thus presenting a fairly complete pic-
ture of that tragic war’s saga. This is, however, not often the experience
in the Nigeria-Biafra War example. Instead, the different war narratives
from different sections seem to speak against one another across the
sectional or ethnic lines. Indeed, the past is past, and Biafra is a part
of history now. Learning from the lessons of that war, especially with
regards to collective failures, or wallowing in them is up to one and all,
no matter the divide. No productive lessons can be learned from such
collective failures if the diverse narratives are deliberately distorted,
fractured, conflicting, skewed, and faulty.
Archers, 2002).
117
Adichie, ‘Chinua Achebe at 82’; Akachi Odoemene, ‘The Nigeria-Biafra Civil War,
1967–1970: Reconsidering a Rejected History’, in Perspectives in African History, edited
by Christian B.N. Ogbogbo (Ibadan: Bookwright, 2012).
Olukunle Ojeleye
Introduction
Between 1970, when the Nigerian Civil War ended, and today, there
has been (and continues to be) a plethora of publications that seek to
understand and explain this dark moment in the history of the nation.
Two distinct groups can be discerned: the academic and non-academic.
Within these two broad groups lie various genres of writings on the civil
war. In the academic group, writings critically examine the causes as
well as the effects of the civil war, and they draw conclusions to serve as
lessons for the future.
In the non-academic category, four main genres of writings can be
identified. The first are novels and stories. These works of fiction have
invented characters who narrate their viewpoints of the events sur-
rounding the emergence and prosecution of the civil war. The second
genre encompasses memoirs and personal accounts in which authors
seek to present their work empirically, having experienced, witnessed,
and/or participated in the prosecution and resolution of the war. The
third genre is social media writings – including blogs and opinion pieces
as well as feature articles in newspapers and magazines. Social media
has blossomed in the last few years as a result of the combination of
renewed interest in the story of Nigeria by a younger generation as well
as rapid advances in information technology.1 The final type of work in
this genre, following the popularity of documentaries and full length
motion pictures, consist of theatrical/movie scripts on which plays as
well as movies about the war are based.2
It is important to state at the outset that although most of the
works within the non-academic category are fictional in nature, they
do not depart in their accounts from the various propositions made
by the materials that fall within the academic literature of the war.
1
This genre encapsulates writings that would be found on social media sites such as
www.nigeriavillagesquare.com; www.igbofocus.co.uk; www.nairaland.com; and
www.dawodu.com.
2
A good example in this regard is the 2013 movie based on Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s,
Half of a Yellow Sun (New York: Anchor Books, 2007), which has the same title as the
book.
194
3
K. Okpi, Biafra Testament (London: Macmillan, 1982), ix.
4
J.M. Cobo, Study of the Problem of Discrimination Against Indigenous Populations, UN Doc. E/
CN.4/Sub.2/1986/7, 379–382.
5
O. Hanfling, Logical Positivism (Oxford: Blackwell, 1981).
on beliefs and hence subjective, while facts are theory free, value neu-
tral and, therefore, objective.6
In contrast to positivism, the rationalist approach to knowledge crea-
tion holds that the human eye cannot observe all variables involved in
the cause of a particular event. It explains that by analysing the rela-
tionship between the variables that the human eye can observe, the
reasoning capacity of human beings facilitates an understanding of
how an event has occurred. Pragmatism, on the other hand, attempts
to bridge the gap between positivism and rationalism. By explaining
that while we can observe and, consequently, arrive at generalizations
following the use of reasoning, it is our individual experiences that will
necessitate either a reinforcement of our proposition or theory, or a
revision of it.7
It must be admitted that the positivist approach does suffer shortcom-
ings. First, it holds that prior to empirical observations there are neither
theories nor beliefs that drive us towards a thirst for knowledge. It indi-
rectly proffers that we do not have any information whatsoever about the
phenomenon or event we are observing or studying. If this is true, then
positivism is indirectly giving us the allowance to interpret events that
we do not know a priori as we see them through our power of reasoning.
While this might be argued by the positivist as enhancing the possibility
of our arriving at a value-free and objective conclusion, the reality is
that we are never blank in our minds. We hold beliefs that inadvertently
condition the way we reason and interpret events. Second, a description
of an empirical observation demands that the person describing and the
one to whom the description is targeted have a common understanding
of the subject matter. Such a description entails the use of language that
is only understandable to the audience by prior agreement or knowledge.
Consequently therefore, facts are dependent on our a priori knowledge
of events no matter how small and intangible. This explains why Kuhn
argued that ‘no puzzle-solving enterprise can exist unless its practitioners
share criteria which, for that group and for that time, determine when a
particular puzzle has been solved’.8
Third, by allowing us to use reasoning to interpret events indirectly,
positivism acknowledges that not all contributory variables to a given
situation can be observed and verified. However, it then prevents us from
talking about these unobservable variables, while at the same time claim-
ing that, for our proposition to be valid, all variables at work must be
observable. For example, in an analogy used by Joad, let us assume this
is biblical times, and we have just witnessed Jesus Christ turning water
6
Ibid., 13.
7
S. Smith, K. Booth, and M. Zalewski, eds, International Theory: Positivism and Beyond
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 13–20.
8
T.S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1970), 7.
into wine. The question that then arises is how to explain the process
by which He did it. The explanation would be that He did it through His
supernatural powers. But the point remains that we can neither empiri-
cally verify the extent of Christ’s powers nor if the water turning into wine
was a consequence of the exercise of this power. Therefore, in asserting
that water can be turned into wine (the verifiable) through Christ’s power
(the unobservable), all variables involved have not been observed.9
From this, two deductions can be made. First, by allowing the
interpretation of events, positivism is not wholly focused on physical
manifestations or empirical confirmation as it claims. Second, by using
interpretation to explain the linkage between the verifiable and the
unobservable, we would be guilty of falsehood in claiming to possess
true knowledge in as much as the whole process involved in the creation
of knowledge is not empirically testable. Finally, positivism fails to define
what it means by objectivity in our search for knowledge. Objectivity
can only take place within a group that has a set of rules and regula-
tions guiding its approach to a specific issue, event, or project. Once the
rules are followed by the one making enquiry, then the result is objective
in the sight of the members of the group. But for an outsider, who does
not even know the subject matter beforehand, a careful consideration
of the result may be deemed to be subjective.
Regardless of any contradiction in the positivist approach to achiev-
ing objectivity in the creation of knowledge, an example of its enduring
influence and advantage is in its emphasis on the uniformity of language
across the natural science and the social world. The approach identifies
two types of statements in the output of knowledge. First are empirical
statements that are verifiable by observation, and second are analytical
statements, which can only be ascertained by reflection on the meaning
of the relevant words. Thus, by placing emphasis on the importance of
language, the positivist approach enables us to determine if an author
has strived, or not strived, to attain a distinctive level of objectivity in his
or her writing.
9
C.E.M. Joad, A Critique of Logical Positivism (London: Victor Gollancz, 1950).
10
D. Edelman, ‘Ethnicity and Early Israel’, in Ethnicity and the Bible Biblical Interpretation
Series 19, edited by M.G. Brett (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 25–26.
11
K.L. Sparks, Ethnicity and Identity in Ancient Israel: Prolegomena to the Study of Ethnic Senti-
ments and Their Expression in the Hebrew Bible, Dissertation, University of North Carolina
(1996), 22.
12
P. Lloyd, ‘The Ethnic Background to the Nigerian Civil War’ in Nigerian Politics and Mili-
tary Rule: Prelude to the Civil War, edited by S.K. Panter-Brick (London: Athlone Press,
1970), 1–13.
13
A. Mbanefo, ‘A Psychological Analysis of the Nigerian Civil War: Future Implications for
Unity and Nationhood’ in The Civil War Years: Proceedings of the National Conference on
Nigeria Since Independence Vol. III (Zaria: Gaskiya, 1983), 8–20.
14
O. Nnoli, Ethnic Politics in Nigeria (Enugu: Fourth Dimension, 1980), 121–147; and R.I.
Jacob, ‘A Historical Survey of Ethnic Conflict in Nigeria’ Asian Social Science 8:4 (2012),
13–14. http://ccsenet.org/journal/index.php/ass/article/view/15959 (accessed April
12, 2014)
15
E. Cashmore, ed., Dictionary of Race and Ethnic Relations (London: Routledge, 1996), 195.
16
F.W. Riggs, ed., Ethnicity: Concepts and Terms Used in Ethnicity Research (Honolulu: COC-
TA, 1985), 11–37.
17
C.N. Adichie, ‘The Story Behind the Book’, http://chimamanda.com/books/half-of-a-
yellow-sun/the-story-behind-the-book (accessed August 16, 2014).
18
Samuel Ikpe, Red Belt: Biafra Rising (London: Bygfut Media, 2013).
19
O. Obasanjo, My Command: An Account of the Nigerian Civil War 1967–1970 (London:
Heinemann, 1981), 10–14.
20
B. Ige, People, Politics and Politicians of Nigeria (1940 – 1979) (Ibadan: Heinemann,
1995), 352.
21
B. Dudley, Instability and Political Order (Ibadan: Ibadan University Press, 1973), 177.
to rightly assert Biafra secession and the emergence of the civil war as
emanating directly from the deliberate massacre of the Igbo in North-
ern Nigeria in 1966, it is noted that most writers on the federal side who
are from the Yoruba, Hausa, and South-South minority ethnic groups
have chosen to gloss over this important factor in their writings about
the emergence of the civil war. It is also important to note that when
the non-academic group of writings is considered, the Biafra side of the
conflict has produced more work on the civil war than the federal side.
The most divisive theme of the Nigerian Civil War that continues to
resonate in ethnic sentiments by writers relates to the thousands of Igbos
who died in the northern part of the country in 1966 as well as more than
2 million deaths on the Igbo side during the civil war.22 The title given to
a collection of papers by Korieh suggests a quest to reawaken the memory
of the global community, if not Nigeria, to what he termed the genocidal
intent of actors on the federal side. Ekwe-Ekwe recently revisited the civil
war, and he underlined the causes as well as the course of the civil war.23
He attempted to convince the reader that, several years after, Biafra and
the place of the Igbo in the Nigerian federation remained an open and a
sore wound. Even though most of the claims made by Ekwe-Ekwe cannot
be refuted, he employed passionate language and used subjective phrases
like ‘genocidist operatives’ in his description of the conduct of the federal
forces and federal government officials.24
Nothing better encapsulates this division and ethnic sentiment
regarding allegations that the federal forces deliberately carried out
genocide against the Igbo than this extract from the novel by Adichie:
He writes about starvation. Starvation was a Nigerian weapon of war. Star-
vation broke Biafra and brought Biafra fame and made Biafra last as long
as it did. Starvation made the people of the world take notice and sparked
protests and demonstrations in London and Moscow and Czechoslovakia.
Starvation made Zambia and Tanzania and Ivory Coast and Gabon recog-
nize Biafra, starvation brought Africa into Nixon’s American campaign and
made parents all over the world tell their children to eat up. Starvation pro-
pelled aid organizations to sneak-fly food into Biafra at night since both sides
could not agree on routes. Starvation aided the careers of photographers.
And starvation made the International Red Cross call Biafra its gravest
emergency since the Second World War.25
In addition, another impactful comment on this theme was written by
22
By the time the civil war ended, the number of dead in the former Eastern Region from
hostilities, disease, and starvation during the thirty-month civil war was estimated at
between 1 million and 3 million. For different estimates of the casualties of the Nigerian
Civil War, see ‘Nigeria: 1966–1970’, http://necrometrics.com/20c1m.htm#Biafra (ac-
cessed June 23, 2014).
23
H. Ekwe-Ekwe, Biafra Revisited (Dakar: African Renaissance, 2006).
24
Ibid., 68.
25
Adichie, Half of a Yellow Sun, 237.
the late Professor Chinua Achebe. In his last work, he described Chief
Obafemi Awolowo, who served as Yoruba leader and Finance Commis-
sioner during the civil war, as
having an overriding ambition for power … saw the dominant Igbos at the
time as the obstacles to that goal, and when the opportunity arose – the
Nigeria-Biafra war – his ambition drove him into a frenzy to go to a great
length to achieve his dreams. In the Biafran case it meant hatching up a
diabolical policy to reduce the number of his enemies through starvation. A
statement credited to Chief Awolowo … is the most callous and unfortunate:
‘All is fair in war, and starvation is one of the weapons of war. I don’t see why
we should feed our enemies fat in order for them to fight harder.’26
With the exception of Nwankwo, who accused Ojukwu of promis-
ing arms and ammunitions that never arrived, and Madiebo, who
quickly recanted his account of the military and political deficiencies of
Biafra in the wake of Achebe’s book, most pro-Biafra local writers have
failed to respond to some pro-federal forces’ claims.27 Pro-federal forces
claim that independent assessments in diplomatic postings from the
period reveal that Biafra was not prepared for the military conflict that
attended the declaration of secession. They also fail to acknowledge the
fact that when both sides reached an accord to allow relief materials to
be airlifted through the federal territory into the Biafra enclave, the Bia-
fran armed forces included weapons and ammunitions with the relief
materials in these ‘mercy flights’. This accounted for the decision by the
federal side that all airlifts must first land in Lagos to be checked before
being allowed to proceed into Biafra.28
Not long after the furore caused by Achebe’s book, Alabi-Isama’s
memoir responded to the allegation of genocide by pointing an accus-
ing finger at the Biafra hierarchy for the death of the civilian population
in the Biafra enclave.
Other than the military and government officials, almost everybody else
was a refugee, due, in part, to the propaganda of their government, which
told them that federal troops would kill all of them if and when they were
caught. Therefore, the four to five million population of refugees inside
Biafra did not know where they were going, which food they would eat
when they got where they were going; as these so-called Biafrans had no
known farms nor farm infrastructure. They were a nation of traders and
business people … Their leaders whom all the people trusted so much to help
26
C. Achebe, There Was a Country: A Personal History of Biafra (London: Penguin Books,
2013), 233.
27
A.A. Nwankwo, Nigeria: The Challenge of Biafra, 3rd ed. (Enugu: Fourth Dimension,
1972), 49.
28
The Biafra propaganda machine was quick to label this an attempt by the federal side to
inject poison into the relief materials to annihilate the Igbo population and refused to ac-
cept the condition laid by the federal government.
them out of all their problems, only compounded the problems and had
no answers for the people except whom to blame. They evacuated villagers
completely from their homes to nowhere in particular. The people starved
and starved and by that, they overstretched their logistics. Biafran officers
had rosy cheeks while their people starved; but they blamed the Federal Gov-
ernment of Nigeria for their woes. I had thought that these were educated
people who knew and could differentiate right from wrong, even some that
were not born at the time of war in 1967 still talk about Nigeria’s genocide
on the Ibo people.29
In the immediate aftermath of the publication of memoirs by
Adekunle in 2004, Achebe in 2013, and Alabi-Isama in 2013, the
venom of ethnic sentiment across the three main ethnic groups in Nige-
ria has been openly and largely reflected in writings and commentaries
on social media. In one of the threads on a website where Yoruba and
Igbo commentators could not stop insulting each other’s ‘genealogy’,
a third-party member of the forum named King Tom tried unsuccess-
fully to broker a truce between the social media warring groups. He
wrote: ‘It seems you guys do not know when to stop the insults. Well my
damage control is over. If una [sic] like kill yourselves, good night.’30 For
a foreigner who wanders on to the Internet or Facebook without any
knowledge of the background to the commentaries on most sites, he or
she would think another civil war has erupted in the country.
29
G. Alabi-Isama, The Tragedy of Victory: On-the-spot Account of the Nigeria-Biafra War in the
Atlantic Theatre (Ibadan: Spectrum, 2013), 334.
30
www.nairaland.com/1583639/brigadier-general-alabi-isamas-rants/1
(accessed A
ugust 16, 2014).
31
R. Copson, African Wars and Prospects for Peace (New York: Sharpe, 1994), 75, 79.
emphasized the utilitarian and affective motives for ethnic politics and
nationalism.32 The utilitarian motives include economic gain, political
stake, and strategic considerations, while the affective motives include
ethnic identity (ethnicity), religion, ideology, historic injustice, irre-
dentism, reasons of justice or principle, personal links with leaders in
a political movement or conflict, humanitarian considerations, and a
degree of embryonic racial-cultural affinity.
According to Somekawa and Smith, the stories an author chooses to
tell or the research an academician chooses to conduct reflect the writ-
er’s social and political position within the society concerned.33 Keita
takes this argument further by canvassing the position that the notion
of race or ethnicity is a central concept in distinguishing between justi-
fied belief and opinion in the formation of knowledge, and that ‘this
body of racialized [ethnic] knowledge is essential to both individual and
group identity, private and public lives, and institutional, structural,
and systemic development’.34
For example, the account of the civil war by Saro-Wiwa was written
from the viewpoint of a minority ethnic nationality. The author cata-
logued what he regarded as the historical injustice of the domination of
the eastern minority ethnic groups by the Igbos, and the reason why his
people, the Ogoni opted to align with the federal forces rather than the
Igbos in the civil war.35 More importantly, the account aimed to high-
light the plight of the eastern minority ethnic groups in the post-civil
war environment as one in which they exchanged injustice from one
task-master (the Igbo) for another (the Nigerian state) since the latter
failed to adequately recompense them for their contribution to the suc-
cess of keeping the country one. It is in pursuit of this ethnic sentiment
through activism that Saro-Wiwa eventually lost his life to the same
nation-state he fought to keep.
Particularly for the Igbos, who constituted the core of secessionist
Biafra administration and military formations, the civil war experience
remains the most traumatic event in their collective history. The imme-
diate post-independence climate made the Nigerian Civil War inevitable.
Unfortunately, the fallout from the war continues to linger on because
of the choices made by Nigeria’s political leaders in the immediate post-
civil war environment. Hence, Onuoha observed that
32
A. Suhrke and L.G. Noble, eds, ‘Spread or Containment? The Ethnic Factor’ in their
Ethnic Conflict and International Relations (New York: Praeger, 1977), 226–230; and J.
Rothschild, Ethnopolitics: A Conceptual Framework (New York: Columbia University Press,
1981), 186.
33
E. Somekawa and E. Smith, ‘Theorizing the Writing of History or “I Can’t Think Why It
Should Be So Dull, For a Great Deal of It Must Be Invention”’, Journal of Social History,
22:1 (1988).
34
M. Keita, Race and the Writing of History: Riddling the Sphinx (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2000), 6.
35
K. Saro-Wiwa, On a Darkling Plain: An Account of the Nigerian Civil War (London: Saros,
1989).
what has emerged in the current phase of Igbo nationalism is a timely oppo-
sition that has successfully tapped into the deep sense of grievance, margin-
alisation and exclusion of the Igbo nation from the benefits of citizenship
and socioeconomic rights within the Nigerian polity.36
Conclusion
This chapter set out to address two key questions: does ethnicity and
group affiliation consciously or unconsciously affect objectivity in
historical writing? To what extent do writings by local authors on the
Nigerian Civil War mirror or exhibit commitment to ethnic sentiments?
In doing so, the chapter categorized existing literature on the war, dis-
cussed the positivist approach to determining objectivity in writing as
the epistemology adopted for reviewing selected samples of existing lit-
erature, and examined the twin concepts of ethnicity and ethnic policy
to identify the influence they may have on objectivity in writing history
by a local author. Following from this, a limited part of the literature
was reviewed for ethnic sentiments and reasons given for commitment
to ethnic sentiments in writings by local writers.
It is found that ethnicity and group affiliation do affect objectivity in
historical writing. The more writings on the Nigerian Civil War by local
authors fall outside the academic category where the rigorous process
of scholarship demands a high level of objectivity, the greater the pro-
pensity for increase in value judgement and subjectivity. The various
interpretations of the Nigerian Civil War by those who were active par-
ticipants as well as by the immediate generation of their offspring shows
that the war continues to evoke deep-seated memories, divisions, and
controversy several years after the last gunfire.
More than 40 years after cessation of hostilities on the battle field,
Nigeria still retains the ethnic divisions as well as fundamental causes of
the civil war of 1967. Even though Biafra is ‘back in Nigeria, relatively
secure … the grave issues that elicited its birth are still with us in the
Nigerian polity. Unless and until these have been seriously addressed,
the jury remains hung.’37 In such an atmosphere, ethnic sentiments in
writings by local authors have become an extension (or another means)
of the pre – and post-war struggles between the main ethnic groups.
Indeed, the ethnic sentiments have become the continuation of the
Nigerian Civil War through the proxy of writing.
36
G. Onuoha, ‘Contemporary Igbo Nationalism and the Crisis of Self-Determination in Ni-
geria’, African Studies 71:1 (April 2012), 46.
37
G.A. Onyegbula, Memoirs of the Nigerian-Biafran Bureaucrat: An Account of Life in Biafra
and Within Nigeria. (Ibadan: Spectrum, 2005), 181.
Introduction
Two concepts – memoirs and objectivity – provide the major thrust for
this discourse and as such delimit the boundaries of our probe of the
two authors whose works are under examination. However, these two
words are meaningful only if discussed in the context of historical writ-
ing about the Nigeria-Biafra War. It is imperative that our convenient
takeoff point should be to know what history is and what it takes to
write a work that could actually be regarded as an intellectual historical
piece, as this line of action would establish which of the two works is
more objective. An important question for us here would be to ask if we
are talking of history as a body of knowledge existing on its own, or as
a discipline. In the case of the latter, we are concerned with the recon-
struction of the past by the use of existing knowledge about that aspect
of the past that caught our interest. This demarcation is necessary
because, as Colin Wells would always caution, ‘history, the discipline,
goes beyond the simple past’ and that it goes beyond ‘official record-
keeping and even palace chronicles’.1 Wells argues:
As an intellectual discipline, a particular way of thinking about the past
(not better or worse, but peculiar to itself), the tradition of history that
began with Herodotus has an essential ingredient that separates it from
other traditional approaches to the past. History’s defining characteristic is
not record-keeping or list-making, though it shares its interest in the past
with these pursuits (not to mention using them as source materials). What
distinguishes history’s attitude to the past is the overarching goal of rational
explanation. History is about explaining the past, not just recording it.2
The above observation by Wells creates a distinction between history as
a discipline and history as the ordinary past. A probe into history as the
ordinary past and its meaning and relevance as a body of knowledge
yields the summation below.
1
Colin Wells, A Brief History of History: Great Historians and the Epic Quest to Explain the
Past (Guilford, CT: Lyons Press, 2008), xii.
2
Wells, A Brief History of History, xiii, original emphasis.
209
liable to suspicion at the onset of their work by trying to prove that they
are not subjective in their views. For instance, Madiebo, in the preface
to his work, enthused that his book was
not intended to serve as a political propaganda material for the benefit of
any section or group of individuals. It is rather a genuine attempt to render
a dispassionate account of the Nigerian revolution and the civil war which
took place from January 1966 to January 1970.6
For his own part, Robert Collis began his work by trying, like Madiebo,
to wash his hands ‘clean’ and absolve himself of any possible charges of
being subjective. He states:
I have tried in these pages to give a true picture of the events which I have
witnessed here, uninfluenced by propaganda, party or tribe … The facts that
I describe and the conclusions I have drawn are those of a doctor. I have no
axe to grind or future career to build up in Nigeria. I belong to no party. I am
no supporter of no Nigerian tribe or Religion … I am not myself involved in
the Nigerian ‘troubles’ and my only endeavour in this work is to present the
truth.7
Good talks. However, all these foundational myths raise the question:
why should a writer start his or her work by providing himself or her-
self an escape route, even when he or she is aware that some of his or
her submissions are questionable? The probable answer is to make their
readers believe they are objective. If we take off on the premise that
objectivity arises from criticizing and comparing rival webs of interpre-
tations in terms of agreed facts – and Madiebo and Collis are not agreed
generally – then the meaning and application of objectivity in historical
writing must be sought.8 What then is objectivity in History?
Many scholars have discussed objectivity and came to varying opin-
ions. These include the likes of Gadamer, Foucault, Derrida, Daston,
and Novick. Some even went as far as stating emphatically that there
is nothing like objectivity in writing history. For instance, Richard
Bushman cautioned that, ‘we should not be deceived, however, by the
illusion that at long last we have learned to write objective history …
The myth of scientific history … has been discarded.’9 Arguing in the
same light, Ronald K. Esplin avers that an approach to historical truth
that assumes that a historian can be objective is unrealistic and naive.10
6
Alexander A. Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution and the Biafran War (Enugu: FourthDimen-
sion, 1980), xi.
7
Robert J.M. Collis, Nigeria in Conflict (London: Secker and Warburg, 1970), xii-xiii.
8
Mark Bevir, ‘Objectivity in History’, History and Theory, 33:3 (1994), 328–344, www.
history510.files.wordpress.com (accessed May 17, 2014).
9
Richard Bushman, ‘Introduction: The Future of Mormon History’, Dialogue 1 (Au-
tumn1966), 23–26.
10
Ronald K. Esplin, ‘How Then Should We Write History?’ Sunstone 7:2 (March-April,
1982), 41–45.
14
Jide Osuntokun, ‘West African Armed Revolts During the First World War’, Tariku 5:3
(1977), 6–17.
15
E.C. Ejiogu, ‘Colonial Army Recruitment Patterns and Post-Colonial Military Coups d’État
in Africa: The Case of Nigeria, 1966–1993’, Scientia Militaria, South African Journal of
Military Studies 35:1 (2007), 99–132.
16
Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution, 3–14.
17
I.M. Okonjo, British Administration in Nigeria, 1900–1950: A Nigerian View (New York:
NOK, 1974), 302.
18
Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution, 3–4.
19
Collis, Nigeria in Conflict, 24.
20
Ibid., 149.
21
Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution, 4–7.
22
Adewale Ademoyega, Why We Struck: The Story of the First Nigerian Coup (Ibadan: Evans
Brothers, 1981), 76.
23
Ahmed R. Mohammed, ‘The Nigerian Civil War 1967–1970: A Critical Look at the De-
velopments that Led to It’, in Nigeria: The First 25 Years, edited by Uma Eleazu (Lagos and
Ibadan: Infodata and Heinemann Educational), 73–77.
24
B.J. Dudley, Instability and Political Order: Politics and Crisis in Nigeria (Ibadan: Ibadan Uni-
versity Press, 1973).
25
General Olusegun Obasanjo, My Command: An Account of the Nigerian Civil War,
1967–1970 (London: Heinemann, 1981).
26
R.L. Sklar, ‘Contradictions in the Nigerian Political System’, Journal of Modern African
Studies 3:2 (1965).
27
W. Schwartz, Nigeria (London: Pall Mall, 1968).
28
Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution, 9 – 11.
29
Ibid., 12.
objectivity of Madiebo’s claim that the North was bent on using the
military to dominate the rest of the federation, one needs to ask how.
The account of Adewale Ademoyega on the reasons for the coup and
the rationale for the date gives one an opening from which to appraise
the account of Madiebo. In what he captioned ‘NNA [Nigerian National
Alliance] Plan to Wallop the West’, Ademoyega wrote:
After extensive prodding, we discovered that the Balewa Government had
a terrible plan to bring the Army fully to operate in the West for purpose of
eliminating the elites of that region, especially the intellectuals who were
believed to be behind the intransigence of the people against the Akin-
tola Government ... The Federal Government was to use loyal troops for
this purpose and the 4th Battalion in Ibadan commanded by Lieutenant-
Colonel Largema and the 2nd Battalion in Ikeja temporarily commanded
by Major Igboba, but soon to be taken over by Lieutenant-Colonel Gowon,
were designated for this assignment. The operation was fixed for the third
week of January 1966, when the Sarduana would have returned from
his pilgrimage, and Lieutenant-Colonel Gowon would have completed his
takeover of the Ikeja Battalion. In preparation for this horrible move by the
Federal Government, the high echelons of the Army and the Police were
being reshuffled. Major-General Ironsi was ordered to proceed on leave from
mid-January. He was to be relieved by Brigadier Maimalari, over the head of
Brigadier Ademulegun. In the Police Force, Inspector-General Edet was sent
on leave from December 20, 1965. The officer closest to him was retired and
the third officer, Alhaji Kam Salem was brought in as the new Inspector-
General. The stage was thus set for the proper walloping of the UPGA ‘riot-
ers’ of the West.30
Going through the work of Billy Dudley, one is inclined to agree with
Madiebo. Dudley avers that the Nigerian political leaders were so inter-
ested in the army to the extent that, by 1962, a quota system for recruit-
ment was introduced for the armed forces. He equally observes that the
proportions were not related to geographical distribution of the popula-
tion between the governmental units of the federation but to the system
of elective representation that obtained in Nigeria between 1951 and
1958. This he said allocated half of the representation to the North
while the remainder was split between the East and West. However, a
greater pointer to northern interest in the army is the fact that the deci-
sion to introduce a quota system in the army was so much in contrast
with recruitment to other positions under the Federal Government, such as
the police or the Federal Civil Service (both of which maintained an ‘open’
recruitment system) that it has to be seen as an indication of the aware-
ness of the political leaders that the armed forces could be used as a political
30
Ademoyega, Why We Struck, 93–94.
31
Dudley, Instability and Political Order, 90.
32
1962 Report of the Nigerianization Officer cited in Eghosa Osaghe, ‘Federal Society and
Federal Character: The Politics of Plural Accommodation in Nigeria since Independ-
ence’, in Nigeria: The First 25 Years, edited by Uma Eleazu (Lagos and Ibadan: Infodata
and Heinemann Educational, 1988), 23–33.
33
Ben Gbulie, Nigeria’s Five Majors: Coup d’État of 15th January 1966 – First Inside Account
(Reprint, Enugu: Benlie, 2001), 8.
34
Collis, Nigeria in Conflict, 147
35
Ibid., 148–149.
36
Ibid., 138–139.
in which the 1965 elections were conducted. The election that trig-
gered the crisis brought the army to power. According to Ben Gbulie, the
prevailing political situation constituted an unpleasant jar to Nigeria’s
nerves.37 This necessitated a change in government, no matter how
radical. The answer came in the form of a military coup d’état. Although
army officers of Igbo extraction formed the majority of the coup’s plan-
ners, the coup was not an Igbo coup. It was probably based on the lop-
sided nature of the killings that forced Collis to conclude:
Even then it seemed odd, if this was true and there was a national revolt
against corrupt politicians that only the Prime Minister of the Federation,
a Northerner, and the premier of the Northern and Western Regions had
been killed while those from the Eastern and Mid-Western Region [Igbo-
dominated areas] were not molested: even when politicians in this latter
regions were known to be quite as corrupt as their counterparts in the West
and North.38
At this juncture, we have to ask if the original intention of the coup
plotters was to kill those political leaders or to arrest them and only
kill them if they violently resisted arrest. On this count, Adewale Ade-
moyega, one of the architects of the coup informs us that during their
Lagos meeting,
[i]t was agreed that only the use of force could bring immediate end to the
violence being perpetrated in many parts of the country. It was, however,
agreed that the use of force should be minimal. Political leaders and their
military collaborators were to be arrested, but wherever an arrest was
resisted, it was to be met with force. Otherwise, no one was to be killed.39
This denies Collis’ account of any element of objectivity.
Collis was absolutely correct in his corruption charge against the
political leaders of the East and Mid-West. It is on record that two Com-
missions of Inquiry (the Foster-Sutton and the Coker Commissions)
exposed how the leaders used the public as a source of financial capital
for their economic interests. Specifically, the Foster-Sutton Tribunal of
Inquiry that looked into the affairs of African Continental Bank reported
that Nnamdi Azikiwe and his family sustained their financial empire
through the use of public funds.40 Granted, Collis’ views are germane
for purposes of investigation; his submissions left unanswered many
questions that would present a clear picture of events. First is in regard
37
Gbulie, Nigeria’s Five Majors, 8.
38
Collis, Nigeria in Conflict, 142.
39
Ademoyega, Why We Struck, 82.
40
For a detailed account of the said report see Report of the Tribunal Appointed to Inquire into
Allegations on the Official Conduct of the Premier of, and Certain Persons Holding Ministerial
and Other Public Offices in the Eastern Region of Nigeria, Cmnd. 51 (London: HMSO, 1957),
cited in Okwudiba Nnoli, Ethnic Politics in Nigeria (Enugu: Fourth Dimension, 1980),
145–147.
41
Ikenna Nzimiro, Nigerian Civil War: A Study in Class Conflict (Enugu: Front Line, 1982),
86. See also Oha-na-Eze Ndigbo, The Violations of Human and Civil Rights of Ndigbo in the
Federation of Nigeria (1966–1999): A Petition to the Human Rights Violations Investigating
Committee (Enugu: Snaap. 2002), 12–13.
42
Obasanjo, My Command, 6. For a more detailed study, see Wale Ademoyega, Why We
Struck.
43
Gbulie, Nigeria’s Five Majors, 51–55.
44
Frederick Forsyth, Emeka (Ibadan: Spectrum, 1991), 61.
mention the fact that Lt. Col. Odumegwu Ojukwu, who was in charge of
the 5th battalion of the Nigerian Army stationed in Kano, played a decisive
role in ensuring the collapse of the coup. He refused to cooperate with Major
Nzeogwu who was then in Kaduna and instead gave his support to General
Ironsi in the latter’s opposition to the ‘January Boys’. A grateful Ironsi soon
afterwards appointed him Military Governor of Eastern Nigeria.45
Both Ironsi and Nzeogwu were of Igbo extraction. However, no out-
sider would blame Collis for holding the Igbo culpable in the January
coup. This is because between 2:00 a.m. and 2:00 p.m. on January 15,
1966, when the soldiers surrounded the lodge of the Premier of East-
ern Region and the Enugu Radio station on orders from Lagos, they had
all the opportunity to kill the leaders already slated for death in their
region. Here there was no Arthur Unegbe to prevent them. That Okpara
and Ibiam were with Archbishop Makarios of Cyprus was no excuse
as the soldiers who helped them take the Bishop to the airport would
have shot them on their way back before the order came. Be that as it
may, the failure of soldiers posted to the East to execute the coup created
the scope for branding the coup as ethnically based. On this note, the
account of Madiebo readily comes handy. He maintains that it is erro-
neous to state that Unegbe was killed because he refused to surrender
the key to the armory to the ‘January Boys’ as he held no keys to any of
the armories. He was killed because they feared that if he learned of the
death of Maimalari, he would fight back.46
Another clue to buttress the non-ethnic agenda of the coup plotters
is their mission statement as encapsulated in Major Nzeogwu’s broad-
cast to the nation. Nzeogwu stated that the aim of the coup was to
‘establish a strong, united and prosperous nation, free from corruption
and internal strife’.47 Part of the internal strife, which the coup plotters
wanted to forestall, was an Islamicizing jihad. According to one military
intelligence chief,
its tripartite aim is: first, to eliminate all powerful southern politicians
opposed to the NNA; second, to enforce the present Igbos-must-go hue and
cry in the North; and third to impose Islam on the Christian South – and
consequently to establish Nigeria as a theocratic Muslim country … Sir
Ahmadu Bello is behind it all … and he will be calling the shots I gather.48
It might well be insinuated that the coup supposedly planned by
Ahmadu Bello was what the Oha-na-Eze Ndigbo alluded to in their peti-
tion to the Oputa Panel, also known as the Human Rights Violations
Investigation Commission, set up in 2000 to investigate human rights
abuses dating back to the military coup of January 15, 1966. In the
45
Uwechue, Reflections on the Nigerian Civil War, 29–30, original emphasis.
46
Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution.
47
Nzeogwu January 15, 1966 broadcast, cited in Obasanjo, My Command, 6.
48
Gbulie, Nigeria’s Five Majors, 39.
said petition, they submitted that they had it ‘on good authority that
this 15 January, 1966 coup was in fact a counter-coup staged to pre-
empt another coup planned for 17 January, 1966’.49
What might be called the ‘Ironsi factor’ and ‘Gowon’s intrigues’ were
very eloquent in the works of both authors as a reason for the civil war.
However, their interpretation of the events differs especially in terms
of details. All of Ironsi’s actions were seen by Collis as an extension of
the Igbo plot. Hence he submits that there is no doubt that, whatever
Ironsi’s part was in the coup of January 15, he was ‘aiding what seemed
like an Ibo plan to take over the government of the whole country’.50
Collis is of the view that the decision to abolish the regions and adopt a
unitary system was an Igbo plan. Hence, he quotes Edozien as having
said: ‘I have just come from State House, where we have decided that
the only thing to do is to put an end to the Regions.’51 One wonders to
whom ‘we’ here refers. Going through the work of Collis, one is forced
to conclude that the ‘we’ refers to the Igbo. One of the measures that
Collis sees as a design to effect, if not actualize, Igbo domination was the
creation of about 20 new colonels. The great majority were Igbos with
a view to filling these new posts.52 At this juncture one wonders about
the objectivity in Collis’ report. If Ironsi was made head of state in order
to actualize a supposed Igbo agenda of domination, why was it difficult
for him to take control of the North where Nzeogwu (an Igbo) held sway
at the early stage of his assumption of office, or is the North not part
of Nigeria? This question becomes imperative in the face of Madiebo’s
account. Madiebo enthuses that Nzeogwu ‘had by now discouraged all
future operations, and in my attempt to get a quick and tidy end to Nze-
ogwu’s revolution I had created a stalemate. Ironsi was sitting in Lagos
ruling the South and Nzeogwu was ruling the North from Kaduna.’53
For a leader, who through the Constitution Suspension and Modi-
fication (No. 1) Decree of 1966, invested all governmental powers on
himself, to be so daft and obdurate to the extent that he failed, in the
words of the axiom, to put his ears to the ground to hear the ballad of
the ant is, to say the least, suspect and questionable. What the plot envi-
sioned was totally different from what happened. It is what happened
that is history – not what we thought would happen. Nzeogwu made
us understand that their purpose was to change the country and make
it a place we could all be proud to call our home. He argued that tribal
considerations were completely ludicrous, but a setback occurred in the
execution.54 This does not mean that Collis was entirely biased against
49
Oha-na-Eze Ndigbo,The Violations of Human and Civil Rights, 12.
50
Collis, Nigeria in Conflict, 150.
51
Ibid., 150.
52
Ibid., 151.
53
Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution, 25.
54
Africa and the World 3:31 (May 1967), 15, cited in Uwechue, Reflections on the Nigerian
Civil War, 64.
55
For details, see Walter Schwarz, Nigeria (London: Pall Mall, 1968), 193–198.
56
Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution, 28.
57
Dudley, Instability and Political Order, 115.
58
Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution, 29.
fortune out of his various official positions which he had obtained through
politicians ... As far as I was concerned, however, Ironsi could not have
behaved with greater consideration or been more cordial when I met him
and I still find it hard to believe that he was acting the part of honest broker
and covering up a further Ibo murder plot which is now believed to have
been in the offing at the time.59
People might be forced to come to the conclusion that it was ‘the
more disreputable Ibos in the State House’60 that dictated for Ironsi
what to do. This notion may be right as Obasanjo observed that ‘Ironsi
was handicapped by his own intellectual shortcomings; and his advis-
ers (who were inward-looking) did not help him very much’.61 Ralph
Uwechue made a similar assertion:
Because the ‘discredited’ politicians were methodically left out of the show
(a number of them including the erstwhile Premier of the Eastern Region,
Dr. Michael Okpara, were imprisoned), the government of the Region was
robbed of the politicians’ most important asset – supple realism. The void
thus created greatly enhanced the voice and the chances of the ‘diehards’
who despite their proven abilities in the relatively closed world of civil ser-
vice and academics were novices in the tortuous game of politics.62
Writing in the same vein, Collis surmised that Ironsi was personally
in a hopeless situation as he was pushed by the leading Igbos to place
them in strategic positions ahead of others by fair means or foul, which
placed him in an impossible position, being pushed ‘forward all the time
by unscrupulous fellow Ibos, so he had no choice’.63 Hence, the acts
of omission or commission by Ironsi helped to facilitate Nigeria’s easy
march to crisis – a point Madiebo equally corroborated. Be that as it
may, there is no objectivity in the account of Collis to the effect that the
suspension of the constitution by Ironsi was to effect an ‘Igbo agenda’.
If this was an Igbo agenda as deduced by Collis, one wonders why all the
military regimes and even the so-called civilian democracy in Nigeria
since the overthrow of Ironsi had retained a unitary system in practice.
Hence, W. Alade Fawole wrote that though the unification policy was
greeted with protests and riots especially in the North, a situation that
eventually led to the bloody overthrow of the Ironsi regime two months
later in July 1966, it remained the hallmark of successive military
regimes from then until May 1999.64
59
Collis, Nigeria in Conflict, 144.
60
Ibid.
61
Obasanjo, My Command, 6.
62
Uwechue, Reflections on the Nigerian Civil War, 89–90.
63
Collis, Nigeria in Conflict, 153.
64
W. Alade Fawole, ‘Military Rule and Unitarianization of Nigeria’, in Richard A. Olaniyan
(ed.), The Amalgamation and its Enemies: An Interpretive History of Modern Nigeria (Ile-Ife:
Obafemi Awolowo University Press, 2003), 149–165.
65
Ibid., 153.
66
Ibid., 155–156.
67
Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution, 81–82.
this count, stating that when the easterners began to kill northerners
in their midst Ojukwu ordered that they should be escorted to safety
by the police. This, he said contrasted dramatically with Gowon’s com-
plete inability to do anything to protect his fellow-Nigerians in his own
home region.68 Gowon’s inability to control the anger of his region may
be accounted for by his quest to please the North. If not, how can one
justify the fact that one of the grievances held against Ironsi was that
he did not try the January coup plotters for overthrowing a duly con-
stituted authority? Gowon did the same and was not questioned. The
only plausible answer one might arrive at is that both Ironsi and Gowon
suffered the same fate: indecision and fear of losing the support of their
regions and ethnic groups.
Another issue that engaged the attention of both authors as a cause
of the war as well as a factor in the failure of the ‘Biafran project’ are the
roles of Ojukwu’s ambition and his ‘sole administrator mentality driven
by personal agenda’. Collis maintains that
the real cause of the continuation of the war is the person of Ojukwu him-
self; that without him and possibly a small group of devoted adherents, the
other Ibo leaders being realists whatever their hopes of domination were in
the past, now realise that this aim is impossible of attainment or that seces-
sion of Biafra could be accepted by the rest of Nigeria.69
Collis’ account was supported by Ralph Uwechue who advises, ‘that
this fight became a fight for secession was Lt. Col. Ojukwu’s political
decision’.70 Madiebo’s account allows even more on this issue as he
states that,
surprising as it may sound, it is true that not a single military officer to my
knowledge, received an official briefing on the explosive political battle that
was going on between Gowon and Ojukwu. The military got news of what
was going on either from civilians, or through the wireless. Thus, the news
of the Aburi Conference, the Ad Hoc Constitutional Conference and even
the very declaration of independence came to the Army as a surprise over
the national radio network.71
Equally, Ojukwu was accused by Madiebo of not taking the army into
confidence; a fact he said may be the reason Ojukwu leaned entirely on
the civilians for all military purchases, including weapons. Even when
the weapons arrived, they were hidden around villages around Nnewi,
an arrangement outside of the military control.72 The absence of trust
introduced division into Biafra leading to sabotage – a major cause of
68
Forsyth, Emeka, 71.
69
Collis, Nigeria in Conflict, 213.
70
Uwechue, Reflections on the Nigerian Civil War, 58.
71
Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution, 87.
72
Ibid., 90.
the failure of Biafra. This was made eloquent by the division in the mili-
tia leading to the emergence of two factions, each opposed to the other:
the Port Harcourt Militia and the National Militia.73 Madiebo equally
held that Ojukwu promoted nepotism by staffing the University Teach-
ing Hospital at Enugu with either Nnewi citizens or their friends.74 The
validity and objectivity in all these charges against Ojukwu is certain if
one wants to know why Biafra failed. If not, how does one rationalize
the fact that even on the very day Philip Effiong signed the formal act
of Biafra’s surrender, Ojukwu was reported to have said: ‘While I live,
Biafra Lives. If I am no more, it would be only a matter of time for the
noble concept to be swept into oblivion.’75 He was a sort of megaloma-
niac, which forced Madiebo to conclude that ‘we often left the straight
path leading to our objective in search of such frivolities as personal
power, wealth and making one’s name’.76
Propaganda was also used by both authors as a tool used in the war.
Collis saw the Biafran use of propaganda as a means to curry favor and
support from the international community and as a tool to achieve
their voyage of deceit. Madiebo saw the excessive use of propaganda by
Biafra as a major undoing. Madiebo enthused that part of the failure
of Biafra could be accounted by the fact that ‘we perhaps spent by far
too much time and money on propaganda with little left for military
preparations’.77 This obtains even when all the indices point to Biafra’s
unpreparedness for the war either from the points of view of strategic
planning or availability of resources. That the latter is true was made
clear by Madiebo, who tells us that ‘the Biafran soldier therefore fought
for almost three years naked, hungry and without ammunition’.78
Conclusion
All writings are propelled by an interest, historical writing being no
exception. For an episode as sensitive and volatile as the Nigerian Civil
War, various writers have tried to present their own stand point with a
view to convincing the public that their accounts are authentic and fac-
tual and therefore objective. After all, history is the history of thought.79
Such writers often tend to forget the dictum by Agathon with respect
to history. Agathon maintains that ‘the Gods are not all powerful, they
cannot change the past’.80 The past cannot be changed in spite of how
73
Ibid., 103.
74
Ibid., 88.
75
Uwechue, Reflections on the Nigerian Civil War, 133–134.
76
Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution, 389.
77
Ibid., 94.
78
Ibid., 118.
79
Carr, What is History? 22.
80
Agathon cited in Ludo De Witte, The Assassination of Lumumba (London and New York:
Verso, 2001), v.
81
‘Oporoza House: The Niger Delta Struggle in Perspective’, Daily Sun, July 17, 2014, www.
sunnewsonline.com (accessed August 8, 2014).
82
Mokwugo Okoye, Embattled Men: Profiles in Social Adjustment (Enugu: Fourth Dimension,
1980), 142.
in July, 1966, then secession by the Eastern Region (Biafra), and then
civil war.83 The ovation that greeted the January coup at its initial stage
throughout the country is indicative of the fact that the ideas of the
coup plotters were popular.
Collis argued that the lopsided nature of the killing of political lead-
ers and military officers by the Nzeogwu group points to an Igbo plan
to dominate the rest of other ethnic groups in the nation as being the
reason for the January coup. However, a look at the ethnic group to
which the military officers who foiled the January coup came from indi-
cates that they were mainly of Igbo extraction. Ironsi foiled the coup in
Lagos. Madiebo prevailed on Nzeogwu not to launch his planned offen-
sive on the South, which would have had a different result. Ojukwu
refused to take orders from any person save Ironsi or any other person
collectively chosen by the Supreme Military Council by insisting on the
traditions of the army: respect for seniority and hierarchy. This was in
the Nigerian army, not Eastern Nigerian or Igbo Army. Lagos, where
Ironsi foiled the coup, was the nation’s capital then, and Nzeogwu held
sway in the Northern Region where all the nation’s military installa-
tions were under his control.
A point often misunderstood and interpreted out of context, espe-
cially by Collis, is that Ironsi was never part of the coup and was never
known to have nursed the ambition of becoming Nigeria’s head of
state. He only became the leader of the nation when, following the coup
of January 1966, Balewa’s whereabouts were unknown, and there was
a vacuum in leadership. Ben Nwabueze argues that, legally speaking,
given the urgent need to have a government that would help confront
Nzeogwu’s planned assault on the South, the remnants of the federal
council were given an assessment of the situation by the commanding
general officer. Nwabueze, quoting a government document, writes:
Among the available ministers there was much jockeying for leadership. It
soon became clear that none of them was acceptable to all as a leader. They
proved incapable of maintaining their own unity. How much less able would
they have been to mobilise soldiers from the North! In the face of the min-
isters’ own disunity, surely the path of reason and the one most calculated
to preserve their own lives and the safety of the nation was to withdraw,
even if temporarily, from the helm of affairs, and let others handle the situ-
ation. In the event, that was what they did. In a short but historic speech at
11:50 p.m. on 16 January, the acting President, Dr Nwafor Orizu [the presi-
dent, Dr Nnamdi Azikiwe, was away on a convalescent holiday in Britain],
announced to the anxious nation that he had ‘tonight been advised by the
council of ministers that they had come to a unanimous decision voluntar-
ily to hand over the administration of the country to the Armed Forces of
the Republic with immediate effect,’ and expressed his ‘fervent hope that
83
Wole Soyinka, The Man Died (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1975), 162.
the new administration will ensure the peace and stability of the Federal
Republic of Nigeria and that all citizens will give them full co-operation.’84
What is even more important in assessing the level of objectivity in Collis
account is the fact that, granted that both Nwafor Orizu and Ironsi were
Igbo, the decision was not taken by the Igbo alone. Also worthy of note
is the fact that Ironsi administration was meant to be an interim one.
The ethnic origin of Ironsi, coupled with his inactions and acts of
omissions and commissions sent fear into the northern citizens. Their
fear is justified based on Azikiwe’s statement in 1948 when he stated:
It would appear that the God of Africa has specially created the Ibo nation to
lead the Children of Africa from bondage of all ages … The martial prowess
of the Ibo nation at all stages of human history has enabled them not only
to conquer others but also to also adapt themselves to the role of preservers
… The Igbo nation cannot shirk its responsibility.85
This particular statement injected more bad blood than had existed
between the various ethnic groups in Nigeria and forced them to form
ethnic unions. Dr Eyo Ita was to fall a victim of what appears to be a ful-
filment of Zik’s dictum in 1952 when Azikiwe used ethnic sentiment to
dislodge him from the leadership and membership of the National Coun-
cil of Nigerian Citizens. Probably based on fear that the Igbo wanted to
actualize their dream, the North had to organize a counter-coup that
swept the Ironsi administration, which was supposedly dominated by
Igbo leadership and had enthroned Gowon, a northerner, without due
process. The quest for due process – even if underneath it hid personal
ambition – made Ojukwu challenge the authority and legality of the
Gowon administration. He subsequently declared the Eastern Region as
the independent state of Biafra. Any search for an intellectual history
of the Nigerian Civil War must highlight the long trend of events in
Nigeria, some of which predate the amalgamation, and the contest for
political and economic space in colonial and postcolonial Nigeria.
84
Government Notice No. 147 of 26 January 1966, cited in B.O. Nwabueze, A Constitu-
tional History of Nigeria (London: Longman, 1982), 162.
85
Okwudiba Nnoli, ‘Ethnic politics’, in The Biafran War and the Igbo in Contemporary Nigeria
Politics, edited by E.C. Obiezuofu-Ezeigbo (Lagos: Pan Negro Continental, 2007), 341. See
also J.S. Coleman, Nigeria: Background to Nationalism (Berkeley and Los Angeles: Univer-
sity of California Press, 1963), 347.
Introduction
This chapter posits that the historiography of the Nigeria-Biafra War
has been characterized by a few ‘blind spots’. This comes to the fore
when examining the ways the war has been deployed by scholars ana-
lysing the role and place of ethnic minorities located in the oil-rich parts
of Eastern Region. These ethnic minorities’ territory became the object
and terrain of war between a secessionist Biafra and the Federal Gov-
ernment of Nigeria. During the Nigeria-Biafra War, the ethnic minori-
ties of the oil-producing Niger Delta were ‘caught in the crossfire’, torn
between Ojukwu’s declaration of Biafra’s independence and a historic
opportunity to achieve the age-old quest for ethnic minority rights and
self-determination.1 It was an ambition driven by the determination to
end perceived domination by the numerically predominant Igbo ethnic
group of the Eastern Region. It was also buoyed by the creation of
three new states in 1967 by the Federal Military Government for ethnic
minorities in the Niger Delta, thus freeing them from the hegemony of
the Eastern Region, which was dominated by Igbo elites. The creation of
Rivers and South-Eastern states out of the former Eastern Region (and
the creation of the new Mid-West State out of the old Mid-West Region)
also encouraged some ethnic minority elites from the Niger Delta to
support the federal side when the civil war broke out in 1967.
While most accounts of the Nigeria-Biafra War have focused on its
causes, specific events, and roles of various actors on both sides in the
war (secessionist Biafra and the Federal Government of Nigeria), they
have either glossed over or ignored the ways in which the war divided
previously united and harmonious communities and people. In many
cases, they have failed to capture the complex ways in which the war
created a space for some individuals to change sides, trade places, and
opportunistically take advantage of a war that simultaneously enriched
1
Cyril Obi, ‘Because of Oil? Understanding the Globalization of the Niger Delta and Its
Consequences’, in Natural Resources, Conflict, and Sustainable Development: Lessons from the
Niger Delta, edited by Okechukwu Ukaga, Ukoha O. Ukiwo, and Ibaba Samuel Ibaba (New
York: Routledge, 2012).
230
2
Hugh Hodges, ‘Writing Biafra: Adichie, Emecheta and the Dilemmas of Biafran War Fic-
tion’, Postcolonial Text 5:1 (2009), 1.
3
Note the interesting fact that Bori – the real-time traditional headquarters of the Ogoni –
is reported on page 1 as the district headquarters.
4
Ken Saro-Wiwa, Sozaboy (New York: Longmans, 1994), 3.
5
Ibid.
6
Ibid., 7.
7
Ibid., 14.
8
Ibid., 14–17.
9
Ibid., 16.
10
Ibid., 19.
11
Ibid., 21.
12
Ibid., 37.
13
Ibid., 41.
14
Ibid., 45–49.
At that point, the people of Dukana and Mene had been only indi-
rectly affected by the war, except for growing poverty symbolized by
the high cost and relative scarcity of salt. Mene captures the state of
suffering thus: ‘So now salt is costing one shilling instead of two pence
for one cup, it means that poor man cannot chop again. Country don
spoil.’15 To get into the army, Mene pays a bribe to a recruiter, Okpara,
like other young recruits before him. He enlisted in Pitakwa (likely the
Biafran Army then in control of Port Harcourt). Although the author
deliberately omits which side of the war Sozaboy joined, it is likely the
Biafran side. However, it is clear that Sozaboy is really impressed with
the smart uniform and gun, although he does not initially understand
the drill and learns that he will have to wait a considerable time to get a
uniform and gun.
He also learns that war can have unpleasant consequences. As his
instructor ‘Tan Papa’ warns, ‘because war is war’.16 As the narrator,
Mene also shows that he did not understand most of what the Chief
Commander General said when he addressed them as young army
recruits at a passing out parade, but hopes he will have an opportunity
to show off his uniform and gun to his friends and new wife in Dukana
and to protect his people during the war.17 Yet his naïveté about the pur-
pose of the war leads him to ask himself, ‘how war go finish when eve-
rybody don die finish? Na who go live to enjoy after that? Does it mean
that myself, my wife Agnes and my mama go don die finish by that time?
Then why are we fighting then?’18
His confusion is compounded by a tall man who he remembered
seeing at the African Upwine Bar in Diobu discussing war with a short
man. He subsequently gives the tall man the nickname, Manmuswak
(a coinage from man must wack, i.e. eat). Manmuswak, an enemy sol-
dier waving a white flag, visits his army company and plies them with
gifts of cigarettes and drinks. Later, Sozaboy gets into trouble after his
company gets drunk on alcohol stolen from the Captain’s tent, earn-
ing them seven days of detention and torture. Their ringleader ‘Bullet’
was tortured and forced to drink the Captain’s urine. Sozaboy begins to
lose his innocence. In his words: ‘And I know that there will be trouble.
Trouble will bring trouble. And trouble does not ring bell.’19 He sadly
witnesses the murder of his Captain by his friend and company leader
Bullet (an obvious case of revenge), who also later loses his life in a
bombing raid by an enemy plane that left many in their company dead
and their camp in ruins.
15
Ibid., 23.
16
Ibid., 75.
17
Ibid., 78.
18
Ibid., 90.
19
Ibid., 103.
20
Ibid., 114.
21
Ibid., 119.
22
Ibid., 129.
23
Ibid., 131.
24
Ibid., 135.
people are missing, so he abandons the ‘enemy side’ and goes away
without leave to search for them.
His search takes him to Nugwa refugee camp in Biafran territory.
The living conditions were horrendous. There he meets his friend, the
World War II veteran Zaza, who tells him that Dukana people are hated
in Nugwa. Painting the picture of the paradoxical situation of Dukana
people who fled into Biafra for protection, he notes, ‘we are among
friends and they are hunting us like animals. I tell you, no strong young
Dukana man or boy can go in this town and they will not catch him
and put him in the army straight or into prison or they just kill him
and eat him. Is this the action of friends?’25 Wandering around camps
in Nugwa, Mene is brought to tears by the state of squalor, hunger,
disease, and human suffering. He leaves for Urua, another refugee set-
tlement, where he runs into Dukana people, including local elites like
Pastor Barika and Chief Birabee. Another friend Terr Kole confides
in him about how a few people were making good in the midst of the
immense suffering in the camp:
But there are some people, few people who are eating very well. Three times
a day. Those few people and all their family. Those people are also having
plenty money … But they hide the money under the ground for the same
place where they bury all those small small children who are dying because
of hunger and kwashiorkor.26
Throughout all these traumatizing events, Mene cannot establish
the whereabouts of his mother and wife. To make matters worse, Chief
Birabee turns him in as an ‘enemy soldier’ in exchange for rice and
stockfish. Following an unsuccessful escape, he is captured and taken
captive by the Biafra side. Mene is sent to a detention camp where each
day one of his fellow inmates is taken out and summarily executed. He
runs into Manmuswak again, this time working for the Biafran side. He
wonders to himself how one individual can be fighting on both sides:
‘I cannot understand how this Manmuswak can be fighting on two
sides of the same war. Or is it his brother? Or are my eyes deceiving me
because I am sick for a long time?’27 Just as rumors are rife that the
war is ending, he narrowly escapes being summarily executed along
with other prisoners, because Manmuswak runs out of bullets. All of
them dash for the bushes. Mene again makes his way back to Dukana
in the hope of reuniting with his mother and wife. Without a home
and with the community destroyed, he sleeps in the ‘broken church’ in
Dukana. When he eventually goes into town, people are afraid that he
is a ghost returning to haunt the community and kill people. To make
25
Ibid., 146.
26
Ibid., 156.
27
Ibid., 166.
things worse, he learns that his mother and wife were killed in a bomb-
ing raid and his entire world collapses and he decides to leave the town.
He laments:
As I was going, I was just thinking how the war have spoiled my town
Dukana, uselessed many people, killed many others, killed my mama and
my wife … and now it have made me a like a person whey get leprosy because
I have no town again.28
In the end, Sozaboy finds that he embarked on a hopeless venture
and lost out in a war that was beyond his comprehension and reduced
him to a mere pawn in the chessboard of national politics by uncaring
leaders and colluding elites. Sozaboy recalls his misfortune with regret:
And I come say to myself that oh my God, war is very bad thing. War is to
drink urine, to die and all that uniform that they are giving us to wear is just
to deceive us. And anybody who think that uniform is fine thing is stupid
man who does not know what is good or bad or not good at all or very bad at
all. All those things they have been telling us is just stupid lie.29
The portraiture of Sozaboy is emblematic of the fate of Dukana
people as ethnic minorities of the Niger Delta. A once proud and loving
young man, broken by war and ostracized by the community he wanted
to defend, ends up losing the people he loved most in his life. In more
ways than one, his story captures the personal and collective catastro-
phe that the war represented. It also points to a trend that often fails to
come out clearly in most discussions about the civil war: how a few local
elites and soldiers benefitted immensely from the war at the expense of
many people who endured a lot of suffering or even lost their lives. War
is represented as bringing out the base instincts of survival, greed, and
inhumanity, as dividing and destroying homes and hopes of people,
and as betraying one’s dreams. It is one long endless nightmare where
ordinary people and soldiers were mere pawns in a game being played
by larger political forces.
28
Ibid., 181.
29
Ibid., 113–114.
30
Jeffrey Gunn, ‘Inside “Rotten English”: Interpreting the Language of Ambiguity in Ken
Saro-Wiwa’s Sozaboy’, eSharp 11 (2008), 19.
31
Ibid.; Also see, Cyril Obi, ‘What happens to us after they suck out all the wealth from our
lands? Globalisation, environment and protest politics in Nigeria’, Politeia 28:1 (2009),
96–97.
32
Hodges, ‘Writing Biafra’, 5.
33
Ibid., 19.
34
Saro-Wiwa, Sozaboy, 156.
this camp is proper human compost pit and all these people they are calling
refugees are actually people that they have throway like rubbish. Nothing
that you can use them for. They have nothing in this world. Not common
food to eat. And everything that they have, they must beg before they can
get it. All their children have big big belly like pregnant woman.35
This also brings to light some of the paradoxes of the war where mem-
bers of oppressed minorities colluded with the oppressor against their
own people for selfish reasons. Although not explicitly stated, Mene is
actually accusing the Dukana elites of betraying their own people, an
act that is symbolized in a dramatic way when the same elites trap and
hand over Mene (who sees himself as joining the war to protect Dukana
people) to the army as a deserter, where he will face further punishment
and possible death. Thus, it is possible to approach the position of the
ethnic minorities from the perspective of double-layered oppression:
the first by the ethnic-majority groups that dominate political power in
Nigeria and Biafra, and second by those ethnic minority elites profiting
from the suffering of their own people.
This coheres with a point made by Gunn that ‘Sozaboy is an empower-
ing voice for suffering ethnic minority groups in the “fractured reality”
created by the nation-state in postcolonial Nigeria’.36 He goes further
to observe how the author of Sozaboy represents the sad plight of ordi-
nary people caught up in the war: ‘Saro-Wiwa creates a voice for the
voiceless by inventing a language which he terms “Rotten English” … It
is a mixture which allows “Rotten English” to cross ethnic and cultural
barriers and allows a critique of all parties involved in the Nigerian civil
war.’37 Beyond this Gunn argues that the use of such language provides
Sozaboy, as member of an ethnic minority, with a vehicle for critiquing
all sides to the Nigeria-Biafra War, including some Dukana elites.
35
Ibid., 148.
36
Gunn, ‘Inside “Rotten English”’, 3, citing Christopher Walsh, ‘Saro-Wiwa’s Sozaboy: A
Novel in Rotten English’, The Explicator 60:2 (2002), 112–113.
37
Ibid.
38
Eghosa Osaghae, ‘Structural Adjustment and Ethnicity in Nigeria’, Research Report 98,
Uppsala, The Nordic Africa Institute, 1995.
the East, within whose territory (Niger Delta) many of the oil fields lay.39
Thus, when Biafra seceded and laid claim to the oil-rich Niger Delta, the
ethnic minorities there were split between those that supported Biafra
and those that supported the federal side in the hope that such support
will translate into freedom from Igbo (Biafran) hegemony and control
over the oil resources in their communities.
However, in Sozaboy, neither oil, Ogoni, nor Biafra are directly men-
tioned, but there is enough evidence to place the events firmly in the
context of Nigeria’s immediate postcolonial history, particularly the
political crises of 1965, 1966, and 1967 – or the ‘trouble’ that presaged
the outbreak of the civil war. It is clear about the immense suffering of
the ethnic minorities represented as Dukana in the hands of both sides
in the civil war – the Biafran and Nigerian troops – and the destruction
of the communities.
Sozaboy represents the successful use of literary means to tell the story
of the ethnic minorities of the Niger Delta. It is told from the perspec-
tive that, far from being willing allies, the ethnic minorities were pressed
into service and suffered abuse in the hands of leaders from both sides
of the civil war. Other literary works on the war convey a different mes-
sage and adopt a perspective that other ethnic groups, particularly the
Igbo, who led the Biafran struggle, bore the brunt of the war. Since this
chapter is not about who suffered more but focuses on Sozaboy and his
people, it limits itself to discussing how the author of Sozaboy explores
the plight of the ethnic minorities of the Niger Delta during a war that
redefined (and centralized) the distribution of power and hence the
basis of the post-civil war Nigerian nation-state building project.
39
Cyril Obi, ‘The Struggle for Resource Control in a Petro-state: A Perspective from Nigeria’,
in National Perspectives on Globalization, edited by Paul Bowles, Henry Veltmeyer, Scarlett
Cornelissen, Noela Invernizzi, and Kwong Leung Tang (Basingstoke and New York: Pal-
grave Macmillan, 2007).
40
Augustine Ikein and C. Anigboh-Briggs, Oil and Fiscal Federalism: The Political Economy of
Resource Allocation in a Developing Country (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1998), 103.
41
Ugbana Okpu, Ethnic Minority Problems in Nigerian Politics: 1960–1965,(Uppsala: Studia
Historica Upsaliensa 1977), 136; Cyril Obi and Siri Aas Rustad, eds, ‘Introduction’, Oil
and Insurgency in the Niger Delta: Managing the Complex Politics of Petro-Violence (London:
Zed, 2011), 6.
42
Cyril Obi, ‘The Changing Form of Identity Politics in Nigeria under Economic Adjust-
ment: The Case of the Oil Minorities Movement of the Niger Delta’, Research Report 119
(Uppsala: Nordic Africa Institute, 2001), 21.
Mobilized to oppose Biafra’s claim to the oil-rich Niger Delta region and
further sever the ethnic minority groups on the Atlantic shoreline from
the Biafran project, ethnic minorities from the Niger Delta who claimed
ownership of oil turned out to be the focal point of ethnic identity poli-
tics after a prolonged period of marginalization and neglect. This shift
in the relations of power with some ethnic-majority elites in the North
and West won them three states, namely Midwest, Rivers and South-
Eastern, and satisfied, to a large extent, their age-old quest for inclusion
in the prevailing political and economic equation.
A remarkable moment of inclusion marked several decades of strug-
gles: some ethnic minority elites of the Niger Delta had come to see the
creation of these three states and their new-found economic power as
leverage over the majority ethnic groups and a basis for laying claim to
the wealth of their region.43 However, as events would later show, this
thinking failed to materialize in 1970 after the war, as the banner of
‘national unity’ under which the war was fought and won resulted in
supremacy of the national power over the sectional interests and the
consolidation of central(ized) control over economic and political power.
These actions were a means of preventing regional or sectional claims
from becoming strong enough to challenge or threaten the dominance
of the federal government (as in the case of Biafra), thereby affirming
the superiority of a homogenizing ideology of the Nigerian nation-state
fueled by an oil-boom-induced dependence.44 It would appear that Soz-
aboy, though fictive, was perhaps a reflection of the reality that many
ethnic minority elites initially thought that siding with the federal side
during the war would reverse the marginalization of the region and
people, and give them control of the oil within ‘their territory’, a belief
that turned out to be mistaken.
Centralized federal post-war governance did not deliver on expecta-
tions for the minority elite’s control of oil. Centralizing the collection
of all oil revenues in the Federal Military Government meant that all
ownership and rights to produce oil were vested in those groups who
controlled the federal government. The transfer of control over rev-
enues generated from the oil found in the Niger Delta (by reducing the
percentage of the revenue allocation principles based on derivation) to
the federal government meant that the marginalization of the ethnic
minorities of the Niger Delta took a new turn. Although the Niger Delta
ethnic minorities had their own states, they lacked control of the oil
revenues generated from within those states.45 The Federal Military
43
Ken Saro-Wiwa, On a Darkling Plain (Port Harcourt: Saros, 1989).
44
Obi, ‘The Changing Form of Identity Politics’, 22–23.
45
Adebayo Adedeji, Nigeria Federal Finance: Its Development, Problems and Prospects (London:
Hutchinson, 1969); and Dagwom Dang, ‘Revenue Allocation and Economic Develop-
ment in Nigeria: An Empirical Study’, Sage Open (September, 2013), www.academia.
edu/4787433/Revenue_Allocation_and_Economic_Development_in_Nigeria_An_Em-
pirical_Study_Introduction (accessed November 28, 2014).
Conclusion
When Sozaboy was published in 1994, its author Saro-Wiwa was leading
a campaign for ethnic minority rights and resource control on behalf of
the Movement for the Survival of the Ogoni People, representing the
46
Cited in Obi and Rustad, ‘Introduction’, 6.
47
Obi, ‘The Struggle for Resource Control’.
48
Ibid.
49
Augustine Ikelegbe, ‘Popular and Criminal Violence as Instruments of Struggle in the
Niger Delta Region’, in Obi and Rustad, Oil and Insurgency in the Niger Delta; Obi and
Rustad, ‘Introduction’; Obi, ‘Because of Oil?’; Ukoha 2007; Rhuks Ako, ‘The Struggle for
Resource Control and Violence in the Niger Delta’, in Obi and Rustad, Oil and Insurgency
in the Niger Delta; Shola Omotola, ‘Why the Niger Delta Region of Nigeria Matters;, in
Horror in Paradise: Frameworks for Understanding the Crises of the Niger Delta, edited by
Christopher LaMonica and J. Shola Omotola (Durham: Carolina Academic Press, 2014);
Kenneth Omeje, High Stakes and Stakeholders: Oil Conflict and Security in Nigeria (Alder-
shot: Ashgate, 2006).
50
Saro-Wiwa, Sozaboy, 151.
Biodun Jeyifo
‘Where one thing stands, another thing will stand beside it.’
Igbo proverb quoted in Chinua Achebe, Hopes and Impediments, 1611
Part One
First, there was a country; then there wasn’t. To anyone who has read
Chinua Achebe’s last book, There Was a Country,2 this statement that
serves as the title of the reflections in this essay might seem to refer to
Biafra. Indeed, Achebe’s book is a powerful and harrowing account of
the crises that led both to the creation and the destruction of the seces-
sionist republic. But I am also referring to Nigeria in this statement. For
implicitly but implacably, Achebe’s new book also hints at a Nigeria
that once was – or at least was on the verge of becoming – but is now
vanished, seemingly forever, leaving only the trace of a national desire
that is now completely in ruins. Not since Wole Soyinka’s The Man Died3
has a book so grippingly taken us back to the very foundations of how
our country came into being, only to be almost immediately faced with
the possibility of being stillborn with only very vague hints at how – if
we are courageous, truthful, and fortunate – we might yet realize the
Nigeria that we desire.
Thus, Achebe’s book is almost at every turn aware of itself as the
work of a writer, an intellectual addressing other writers and intellectu-
als and challenging them on such fundamental issues as the relation-
ship of the writer to ethics and justice and the responsibilities of the true,
humanistic intellectual to racial, national, and ethnic others. Indeed,
as much as Achebe’s new book is conscious of the general reader, it
is for the most part mainly addressed to the international community
and the world at large. It is much like Soyinka’s 1972 book, which was
*
This is a slightly revised version of a series that was spread over five weeks in the author’s
weekly column, ‘Talakawa Liberation Courier’, in The Sunday Guardian (Nigeria) from De-
cember 23, 2012 to January 20, 2013, inclusive.
1
Chinua Achebe, Hopes and Impediments: Selected Essays (New York: Doubleday, 1989).
2
Chinua Achebe, There Was a Country: A Memoir (New York: Penguin, 2013).
3
The Man Died: Prison Notes of Wole Soyinka (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1979).
245
4
Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart (London: Heinemann, 1958).
farther than Achebe did in Biafra in placing his writing and his intellec-
tual capacities completely at the service of the state. The point, though,
is that while Neto, who was himself the leader of the anti-colonial
nationalist movement and Head of State of the independent Angolan
state, was very open and even militant in insisting that his intellectual-
ism was indivisible from his role and actions as a politician-statesman,
in There Was a Country, Achebe operates under the presumption that
regardless of how close and faithful he was to the Biafran leadership, his
independence and autonomy as a writer and intellectual were intact.
But this is, at best, a genuine but mistaken assumption; at worst, it is
more or less a self-serving delusion and mystification.
I intend to bring the ‘two Achebes’ that we encounter in There Was a
Country into a dialogical relationship with each other: on the one hand,
the superb realist writer and progressive intellectual; on the other hand,
wartime propaganda and media warrior and ethno-national ideological
zealot. For those who might intuitively presuppose that I have in mind
a hierarchy, a ‘higher’ and ‘lower’ order of integrity between these two
putative Achebes, I hasten to say that this is not necessarily so. In other
words, I will not hold one Achebe as a corrective, a benchmark for the
other. Far from this, my central frame of reference simply is that against
Achebe’s own presuppositions we must keep both in view: the writer
and the ideologue.
Achebe’s book is divided into four parts. In reality, the fourth and last
part is really an epilogue that brings the chronological, temporal order-
ing of the contents of the book from the past of the first and second
coups of 1966, the massacres of May and August of the same year, and
the Nigeria-Biafra War to present-day Nigeria. For those who might
have either completely missed it or seen it and not paid much attention
to it, let me emphasize that it is only in this fourth part that Achebe talks
substantially of a Nigerian ruling class. In the three main sections of
the book, only a casual nod is accorded to class; the focus is totally and
uncompromisingly on ‘tribe’, on ethnicity.
For every one of us, and especially for writers and intellectuals, this
raises many questions. Was this a deliberate choice on Achebe’s part?
What particular kind of conception of ethnicity does he deploy in There
Was a Country? Was there no ‘ruling class’ in the Nigeria of the pre-
civil war years? In Biafra, was class so effectively and completely folded
into ethnicity that it had little or no relevance or significance? If Achebe
quite deliberately decided to base the main sections of his book on eth-
nicity while excluding class and other indices of social identity, what
methodological and philosophical pressures does this exclusion place
on him as a writer and intellectual, especially in light of the fact that
he is, first and foremost, a realist writer? Can the devastating case that
Achebe makes against the Nigerian ruling class in the fourth section
of his book also be made against the Biafran ruling class of which he
was such a prominent and influential figure, especially with regard to
the central moral and human catastrophe at the heart of the book, this
being the issue of mass starvation and the alleged attempted and nearly
successful genocide committed against the children of Biafra?
These are extremely difficult questions for which there are no easy or
simple explanations. Achebe’s new book provides us with both a great
challenge and a wonderful opportunity to engage them honestly and
rigorously.
Part Two
‘motives’ or ‘interests’ that have been ascribed to the coup plotters, the
single one that Achebe addresses in his book is ‘tribe’ or ethnicity: was
it, or was it not, ‘an Igbo coup’?
There have been suggestions and speculations that it was a ‘southern
coup’ as most of the political and military leaders assassinated or inad-
vertently killed were overwhelmingly either northerners or southerners
in alliance with northern leaders. More pertinent to the present discus-
sion, there has also been even more plausible speculation that class and
ideological interests were significant in the motives of influential coup
members, like Chukwuma Kaduna Nzeogwu and Wale Ademoyega. Of
the two alliances of the ruling class parties of the First Republic, the
conservative Nigerian National Alliance (NNA) and the somewhat
social-democratic United Progressive Grand Alliance (UPGA), all those
assassinated belonged to the NNA, with the single exception of Festus
Okotie-Eboh, the Finance Minister and right-hand man of the Prime
Minister, Tafawa Balewa; but Okotie-Eboh was effectively an ally of the
NNA.
S.L. Akintola, the Premier of the Western Region, was a diehard NNA
chieftain; there is compelling evidence that this was why he was assas-
sinated while Michael Okpara, the Premier of the Eastern Region, was
spared. Thus, we can surmise that Okpara was spared, not because he
was Igbo but because he was a major figure in the UPGA alliance. As
a matter of fact, there is clear evidence that some of the coup plotters
had the intention of making or ‘forcing’ Chief Awolowo to assume the
office of Prime Minister in the belief that the progressive northern allies
of UPGA were far more regionally and nationally popular and credible
than the southern and conservative allies of the NNA.
Achebe’s book pays not the slightest attention to these other probable
factors in assessing the motives of the January 15 coup plotters. Was it,
or was it not, ‘an Igbo coup’? That is all Achebe is interested in explor-
ing – and disproving – in There Was a Country. Of the many threads that
form the complex fabric of that fateful coup d’état, this single thread of
ethnicity or ‘tribe’ is all that Achebe strenuously tries to unravel in his
book.
We might speculate that this may be because by the time of the
terrible massacres of May 1966 against Igbos in the North, all other
plausible motives for the coup had been almost completely erased by
assertions, indeed pronouncements that the coup had incontrovertibly
been an Igbo coup. Indeed, the massacres targeted all Igbos whether
they were members of the ruling class or not, seeming therefore to com-
pletely subsume class into ‘tribe’. But class factors quickly reinserted
themselves into the unfolding catastrophes and crises so that, by the
time of the failed constitutional talks that led to the declaration of
secession and the outbreak of war, no commentator, writer, or intel-
lectual could credibly and persuasively exclude class as a crucial vector
of analysis and reflection.
At any rate, Achebe’s book was written and published more than 40
years after the event, and it had the advantage of both historical hind-
sight and a vast body of accumulated research and discourses. For this
reason, there is no other conclusion left for us other than a finding that
Achebe almost certainly had a driving rationale for sticking exclusively
to ethnicity or ‘tribalism’ while simultaneously ignoring or excluding
all other plausible, and in some cases historical factors.
This is precisely what Achebe repeats in the second of our two exam-
ples. This pertains to the period of regional and nation-wide crises
between 1964 to 1966 that preceded the January 15 coup and the
Nigeria-Biafra War. Here, in Achebe’s own words, is the particular case:
By the time the government of the Western region also published a white
paper outlining the dominance of the ethnic Igbo in key government posi-
tions in the Nigerian Railway Corporation and the Nigerian Ports Authority,
the situation for ethnic Igbos working in Western Nigeria in particular and
all over Nigeria in general had become untenable.5
This is indeed a fact, but it is a partial fact: one aspect of a complex of
facts and realities, many of which Achebe chooses to ignore or obscure.
It is useful to carefully state what these other facts and realities were.
First, the Western Region Government to which Achebe alludes here
was that of Chief Akintola and his party, the Nigerian National Demo-
cratic Party (NNDP). Arguably, these were the most pernicious right-
wing government and party in Southern Nigeria in the entirety of our
post-independence political history. Achebe completely ignores this fact
and fixes exclusively on this government’s anti-Igbo programs and dia-
tribes. He deliberately implies that this government spoke for and acted
on behalf of the people of the Western Region. In actuality, Akintola’s
government and party were not only extremely unpopular, they turned
their unpopularity into a hardened, reified form of autocratic rule. They
were not only virulently anti-Igbo, they were also scurrilously anti-
welfarist and anti-socialist.
A brilliant orator and a master of Yoruba rhetorical arts, Akintola
tirelessly satirized a range of targets and issues within which Igbos
were only one composite group. He was particularly fond of spew-
ing out twisted, parodic visions of welfarism and socialism in which
everything would be shared: wives, children, family heirlooms, and
personal belongings. Lastly, Akintola and his party quite deliberately
stoked the fires of intra-ethnic tensions and resentments within Yoruba
sub-groups, and they took this as far as founding a rival pan-Yoruba
organization to the Egbe Omo Oduduwa (Society of the Descendants of
Oduduwa – the ancestor of the Yoruba), which they called ‘Egbe Omo
Olofin’ (Society of the Descendants of Olofin). For good measure, they
5
Achebe, There was a Country, 77.
6
Chinua Achebe, No Longer at Ease (London: Heinemann, 1969); A Man of the People (Lon-
don: Heinemann, 1966); Anthills of the Savannah (London: Heinemann,1987); The Trou-
ble with Nigeria (Enugu: Fourth Dimension,1983); and Home and Exile (Anchor, 2001).
Part Three
Nations enshrine mediocrity as their modus operandi, and create the fer-
tile ground for the rise of tyrants and other base elements of the society, by
silently assenting to the dismantling of systems of excellence because they
do not immediately benefit one specific ethnic, racial, political or special-
interest group. That, in my humble opinion, is precisely where Nigeria finds
itself today!
Chinua Achebe, There Was a Country, 236
In the epigraph to this section, we have one of the many instances in
There Was a Country in which Achebe urges a strong, perhaps even
determining link between what he deems, not without considerable
justification, an endemic ethnic scapegoating of Igbo people in pre-
and post-civil war Nigeria and the total collapse of meritocracy in our
country. With the possible exception of the subject of mass starvation
and the claim of attempted genocide during the Nigeria-Biafra War, I
confess that within the comprehensive and capacious scope of Achebe’s
new book, nothing startled me more than this particular topic. Let me
explain.
Like most self-identified progressive commentators on the civil war
and the events and crises that both led to and came after it, I had assumed
that the mass slaughter of Igbo people in their thousands in the mas-
sacres before and after the July 1966 ‘Northern coup’ constituted the
core of what had to be engaged, analysed, understood, and positively
transcended in that dire, tragic period of our history. In essence, this
entails the thesis that dominant elements within the right-wing succes-
sor state that came into being after the July 1966 coup not only stood by
while Igbo people were being slaughtered but were actually behind the
massacres. Any state that not only fails to provide guarantees and pro-
tection for the lives and properties of large segments of its population
but also oversees the perpetration of such crimes loses both its political
sovereignty and moral legitimacy. From this perspective, secession from
Nigeria was both almost inevitable and a right to survival. Moreover,
7
Achebe, There was a Country, 74–78.
and tragedies that came with war, defeat, and post-war crises of rein-
tegration into Nigeria, the central intellectual theme of the book is the
loss that Nigeria sustained – and continues to sustain to this day – when
mediocrity effectively replaced meritocracy after Igbos were purged
from the intellectual and professional centers of our public life in those
fateful months between January and August 1966.
It is important to emphasize that, though the essential ingredients
of this theme of Igbos as a dominant force, a collective benchmark for
merit and excellence in our country had been tentatively broached in
Achebe’s previous writings, notably in The Trouble with Nigeria and
Home and Exile, the author had been more cautious, more restrained,
and more comparative in those two previous books. For example, in
The Trouble with Nigeria, the essential argument was that though the
Yoruba had the advantage of a great historical and geographical head
start over Igbos, the latter caught up with the former in education and
the professions within three decades of the mid-twentieth century.
In Home and Exile, Achebe’s extensive reflections on the vigorous and
enthusiastic embrace of education and modernity by Igbo people had
been made within the wider framework of a powerful Pan Africanist
celebration of the elements within all African cultures that made them
sift and choose the good from the bad in the currents and forces of
modernity. But in this new book, Achebe takes this same nexus of ideas
and makes of them a part of his startling claim that in the crises lead-
ing to the Nigeria-Biafra War, the Igbos were made the collective ethnic
scapegoat of a nation caught in the paroxysm of an ‘Igbophobia’ that
was effectively a mask, a pretext, a rationale for the overthrow of meri-
tocracy and the consequent massive institutionalization of mediocrity
in our country.
In the fourth and final part of the book, as an illustration of the delib-
erate targeting of Igbo intellectual and professional achievement in the
pervasive post-war culture of mediocrity, Achebe gives an account of
how a ‘former president’ of Nigeria deliberately unleashed on his own
home state of Anambra ‘corrupt politicians with plenty of money and
low IQs’.8 He makes much of the fact that this was happening in Igbo-
land and was connected to the former president having a strong and
punitive aversion toward Igbo people. In other words, Achebe is delib-
erately insinuating here that this is a continuation of the pre-civil war
overthrow of meritocracy on the basis of a virulent Igbophobia. But
what he ignores, consciously or unwittingly, is what that former presi-
dent was doing in Igboland in particular, and in Yorubaland in general:
he appointed corrupt and mediocre politicians across the country.
In case the ‘moral’ of this critique of Achebe’s link between ethnicity,
meritocracy, and mediocrity is missed, let me point it out: each ethnic
8
Ibid., 248.
group in Nigeria has its own actual or potential corrupt and mediocre
politicians. This is because neither mediocrity nor meritocracy is innate
in any ethnic group, each one being the determinate outcome of factors
that pertain as much to class as to ethnicity. More pertinently, Achebe
is grossly mistaken to trace the roots of the culture of mediocrity in our
country to the purging of Igbo intellectuals and professionals in federal,
regional, and local public agencies, institutions, and enterprises in those
fateful months of 1966 before the Nigeria-Biafra War. For mediocrity
preceded the crises leading to the civil war, as Achebe’s own novel, A
Man of the People, powerfully and memorably demonstrates. Moreover,
the culture of mediocrity in post-civil war Nigeria became exponentially
much bigger when oil wealth replaced the pre-war export crop economy
as the primary means of surplus extraction by the political class drawn
from all of Nigeria’s ethnic groups, major and ‘minor’. In other words,
in the new oil-dominated national economy, value – including merit
and excellence – became disaggregated from work, effort, thrift, and
innovation. Thus, meritocracy, and its obverse, mediocrity, are both too
big, too complex as social and intellectual phenomena to be reduced to
the single, determining agency of ‘tribe’ or ethnicity. Indeed, based on
all his previous writings before this new book, this truism is something
that Achebe himself had explored vigorously and compellingly.
I have pondered long and hard on why Achebe in this book seems
to be in such a desperate need to give a glaring supremacist twist to
the incontrovertible historic achievements of Igbos in education, the
professions, the arts, commerce, politics, sports and culture. The imme-
diate historic context and justification for Achebe in this exercise seems
to have been the indisputable fact that after the January 15, 1966 coup,
there was a widespread but carefully manufactured fear of Igbo domi-
nation in all federal institutions and parastatals. This manufactured
fear served as the basis and the pretext for the right-wing Northern and
Western regional governments of the period to begin compiling data
and statistics that seemed to reflect an orchestrated domination of the
country that involved all Igbo people, even though the alleged spheres
of domination specifically entailed middle and upper-middle class pro-
fessions. Ironically, what Achebe’s own ‘list’ of Igbo professional and
intellectual achievements in his new book does is to retroactively and
inadvertently produce that alleged – and dreaded – domination by all
Igbos. This observation needs careful elaboration.
Achebe neither refutes nor impugns the accuracy of the figures and
data in the lists compiled by the Northern and Western regional govern-
ments of the period; he merely ‘explains’ the data and statistics away
by more or less implying that the alleged Igbo dominance was justified
by achievement, by merit. The problem with this ‘explanation’ is that it
conflates class with ethnicity. For if the figures and data released by the
NNA parties were accurate, this only reflects the fact that at that point
in time, Igbo middle and professional classes enjoyed a clear advantage
over the middle and professional classes of other ethnic groups, prin-
cipally the Yoruba and the Hausa-Fulani who then used the crises of
1966 to opportunistically wipe out that advantage. Is this the end of
the story? No!
The problem and issues did not end with the pre-civil war crises, as
Achebe himself repeatedly asserts in his new book. Thus, we are dealing
here with a complex historical and social phenomenon that, regretta-
bly, Achebe grossly over-simplifies and distorts. Our task here is to try
to understand why a writer, an intellectual like Achebe who has never
shied away from engaging the complexities of our historical and social
experience, descends into superficialities and distortions in his engage-
ment of this particular topic in this new book.
I think the beginnings of an answer might be found in two separate but
linked processes. First, we must note that the intersection of fierce intra-
class and inter-ethnic competition that led the Northern and Western
governments to begin compiling lists of Igbo dominance in federal agen-
cies and corporations inevitably became closely linked to the massacres
of 1966 even though they were separate and distinct events. Second,
we must also pay attention to the fact that the foreign audience, which
constitutes a large and significant part of Achebe’s intended readership
of There Was a Country, typically thinks of Africa in terms of ‘tribe’ and
ethnicity and hardly ever in terms of class; there is ample textual evidence
that Achebe panders to this foreign audience in the book. For these two
reasons, Achebe refuses absolutely to concede the indisputable class
advantage of Igbo professional and middle classes in pre-civil war Nigeria;
he prefers instead to reduce or keep everything to the singularity of ‘tribe’.
In other words, what he could – and should – have conceded in terms of
class, Achebe displaces into a fortress constructed around ethnicity. He
accomplishes this act of displacement by taking refuge in a mystique of
meritocracy as an endowment, a natural outgrowth of ‘tribe’ or ethnic-
ity. I repeat: I have never encountered a more tendentious, regrettable
treatment of a presumed link between ethnicity and meritocracy in any
book by an African author than what we encounter in Achebe’s engage-
ment of the topic in his new book. As we shall see, these same factors
were deployed far more ominously in the most harrowing issue raised in
Achebe’s new book: the mass starvation and alleged attempted genocide
committed against the children of Biafra.
Part Four
The epigraph above is the very first sentence in a section of There Was
a Country, subtitled ‘The Question of Genocide’. This section is far and
away the most explosive segment among the dozens of segments in the
entire book. For this reason, in saying that his aim in this segment is
‘not to provide all the answers but to raise questions, and perhaps to
cause a few headaches’, Achebe is either being disingenuous or deploy-
ing a penchant for ironic understatement that is a central aspect of his
novelistic art.9 In my own frank opinion, I think he is being both ironic
and disingenuous. At any rate, instead of ‘a few headaches’, the spate
of responses to this section of the book has been more like an epidemic
outbreak of violent seizures.
I am using the metaphors of severe epilepsy and death throes here
deliberately. Biafra was not defeated, was not vanquished easily. Rela-
tively speaking, it took a long time and a lot of agony and trauma for
the Nigerian forces to subdue the country. This was contrary to the ini-
tial overconfidence of the Nigerian federal government, which believed
‘police action’ lasting no more than three to six months, rather than
full-scale war, would be all that was needed to end the secessionist
republic. Indeed, after the recapture of Benin and the Mid-West region
from the Biafran invasion force, there were swift, decisive victories by
the federal forces within Biafra itself.
Notable in this case were the captures of Calabar and Port Harcourt,
both of which then enabled concentration of the war offensive of the
Nigerian forces on the Biafran heartland in the Igbo-speaking areas of
the breakaway republic. But thereafter, and as fate would have it, the
war reached a stalemate: Biafran resistance became extremely fierce
and resilient. The federal forces slowly but inevitably came to the reali-
zation that they had more than a ‘police action’ on their hands. It was
during this long drawn-out phase that the all-important questions of
mass starvation and an alleged, deliberate, and systematic genocide
against Biafrans – women, children, and the young – became the pri-
mary human and moral issues of the Nigeria-Biafra War, not only while
it lasted but up to the time of writing, almost five decades later.
In my view, any and all discussion of this question of mass starvation
and alleged genocide ought to keep two crucial issues in mind. Failure
to do so almost inevitably leads to either deliberate or unwitting distor-
tions in analysis, interpretation, and judgment. The first of these two
issues was the fact that, unexpectedly, this phase of stalemate was the
longest phase of the war. Second, it was also almost entirely concen-
trated on the Biafran heartland in the Igbo-speaking areas of the seces-
sionist republic and it came after most of the non-Igbo areas of Biafra
had been effectively captured, militarily occupied, and administratively
run by the federal Nigerian forces. Before tackling these two issues, let
9
Ibid., 228.
10
Ibid., 233.
11
Ibid., 108.
12
Ibid., 233.
Part Five
The triumph of the written word is often attained when the writer achieves
union and trust with the reader, who then becomes ready to be drawn deep
into unfamiliar territory, walking in borrowed literary shoes so to speak,
toward a deeper understanding of self or society.
Chinua Achebe, There Was a Country, 61
As I mentioned in the second section, Achebe uses ‘Nigerian ruling
class’ and ‘Nigerian ruling elite’ only a few times in the book. His cri-
tique of members of our country’s ‘ruling elite/class’ is devastating
and unforgiving. He compares them collectively to ‘Anwu’ the wasp, ‘a
notorious predator from the insect kingdom’. I have no words to match
Achebe’s own characterization of the scale of the predatory nature
of our ruling class: ‘Wasps, African children learn during story time,
greet unsuspecting prey with a painful, paralyzing sting, then lay eggs
on their body, which then proceed to “eat the victim alive.”’ Achebe
uses the term ‘ruling class’ to analyse the terrible state of things in our
country. In other words, on the two occasions when he used the term,
Achebe had merely dipped it into what could be described as the boiling
cauldron of ‘tribe’ or ethnicity as his singular frame of reference. One
proof of this is the significant fact that in spite of his extremely damn-
ing indictments of the both the pre – and post-civil war Nigerian ruling
class, the term does not appear at all in the Index to the book.
As noted, it is a remarkable, even defining, feature of Achebe’s book
that while the whole of the fourth part of the book talks of the Nige-
rian ruling class as the frame of reference for understanding a great
deal of all that is wrong in our country’s affairs, in the other three parts
of the book it is the ‘tribe’ or the ethnic group that is the object either
of Achebe’s searing indictment or, with particular regard to his Igbo
people, of his solicitude and solidarity. In this connection, here is a typi-
cal observation from his Part One:
The original idea of one Nigeria was pressed by the leaders and intellectuals
from the Eastern Region. With all their shortcomings, they had this idea to
build the country as one. The first to object were the Northerners, led by
the Sardauna, who were followed closely by the Awolowo clique that had
created the Action Group.13
This statement is as false as it is unworthy of a progressive writer and
public intellectual of Achebe’s stature. From the amalgamation of the
Southern and Northern Protectorates in 1914 to the brink of the out-
break of the Nigeria-Biafra War, progressive politicians and intellectu-
als from all parts of the country led the struggles for a united, equal and
just Nigeria. From this perspective and in my own personal opinion, the
greatest objection to Achebe’s new book is that in substantial parts of
the first three sections of the book, class politics is completely subor-
dinated to ethnic politics. Because Achebe apparently has no place in
his book for class politics in pre- and post-civil war Nigeria, he almost
completely leaves out the few but significant expressions and traditions
of progressive, radical class politics within and across Nigeria’s ethnic
groups.
Before coming to my concluding reflections in this chapter, I would
like briefly to discuss some of the most moving and valuable parts of this
extraordinarily controversial book, some of these being paradoxically
based on deep and changing realities and sentiments around ethni
city and ethnic belonging as a positive value in our continent and our
world. I don’t think that it is overstating the case to observe that There
Was a Country probably aspired to be and will for decades be regarded
as the definitive Igbo literary epic of this age. It is an epic of suffering,
endurance, resilience, and survival. Like all great epics, it is based on
the rediscovery of fundamental moral and philosophical ideas that
go to the core of communal survival and human worth, especially in
seasons of great and overwhelming catastrophe. Again and again,
Achebe dips into Igbo creation myths, folklore, legends, and proverbs
to underscore the scale of the issues involved in the production of this
epic. He certainly does, on occasion, over-idealize aspects of traditional
Igbo culture and worldview that he wishes to propose as self-defining
and self-constituting counterweights to the festering cesspool of the
Nigerian spiritual and moral malaise. But the cultural capital of what
Achebe attempts here is undeniable, and it is consistent with what other
African writers like Soyinka, Ngũgı̃, and Tanure Ojaide, in their essays
and literary works, have done for Yoruba, Kikuyu, and Urhobo ethnic
nations, respectively. His is a powerful demonstration of the idea that
ethnic groups have an unfolding historic identity and can and should
serve as repositories from which to rediscover and rekindle the virtues
of democratic republicanism and common human decency and dignity
in this new millennium. In this perspective, ethnicity, indigeneity, and
13
Ibid., 51.
locality are not antithetical to but are indeed consistent with universal
values that link all of us in our country and our planet to a common
future, a common destiny.
But the ethnic provenance of the epic Igbo project of There Was a
Country takes its toll on the intellectual and artistic merits of the book.
In a marked contrast with almost all the other books he had written,
there is in this new book a veritable collapse of the ‘union and trust’
between writer and readers that Achebe, in the epigraph to this con-
cluding section, identifies as the basis of all great writing. Let me care-
fully explain what this entails.
I have stated repeatedly in this series that Achebe is one of the great-
est realist writers in world literature in the last one and a half centuries.
Among all other claims, realism bases itself on the ability, the unflinch-
ing resolve to let reality speak for itself, no matter where it leads the
writer, the artist, the philosopher. But this is easier said than done for
no writer, no artist can (re)present the fullness, the infinity of reality;
what the writer can hope for is that in what he or she chooses from
reality, nothing significant, nothing absolutely germane to the reality
depicted is left out. Where this happens the reliability of the writer is
badly compromised and with this goes his or her trustworthiness, if not
across the whole spectrum of potential readers then among the most
discerning, the most astute, and the most fair-minded of such readers.
On this count, Achebe’s new book evinces the collapse of realist writing
and philosophy the like of which we had heretofore never encountered
in his writings. Let me put this in simple language: in this new book,
whatever is not compatible with Achebe’s epic ethnic Igbo project is
simply left out, even if and where such things were of great import in
the affairs of the nation especially as these pertain to relations between
ethnic groups and communities, both in Nigeria and Biafra.
The central issue here, as I have repeated again and again, is the
omission of class in most of Achebe’s narratives, analyses, and reflec-
tions in the book. There is also the additional fact that in most of his
ideas and assertions about ethnicity and regionalism, he simply omits
or over-simplifies many things that either complicate or run counter to
his project of an Igbo ethnic epic. Among the myriad of such omissions
and simplifications in the book, I shall cite only a few examples.
First, in all of the first three and most-substantive parts of this book,
in vain will the reader look for the signs, the evidence that beyond the
ethnic/regional blocs, there were class alliances of both right-wing and
progressive ideological and political currents. Indeed, there is no men-
tion of the UPGA alliance between the National Council of Nigerian
Citizens, the Action Group, and the Northern Elements Progressive
Union (NEPU) – the three most important social democratic parties that
straddled the North and the South in the First Republic.
Second, there is no mention in the fourth part of the book of the fact
that while the big, moneyed interest groups among Igbo people in the
post-civil war period have done badly compared to the big, moneyed
interest groups of Yoruba and Hausa-Fulani elites, the lower middle
class of Igbo traders, merchants, and exporter-importers have done
very well indeed compared with similar class and interest groups of the
country’s other ethnic groups. Thus, on this count, one class segment
among Igbos – admittedly the most potentially economically and politi-
cally influential – is far from being truly integrated into post-civil war
Nigeria. Another segment – lower middle class merchants and export-
ers-importers – is very well integrated. Rather than acknowledge this
indisputable fact of the interplay between class and ethnicity, Achebe
simply asserts in his book that (all) Igbos are yet to be integrated into
post-civil war Nigeria.
Third, within Biafra and during the war itself, Achebe is almost com-
pletely silent on the fact that there were great tensions between the Igbo,
the majority ethnic group, and the non-Igbo minorities. As a matter
of fact, as one reads the two central parts of the book that deal with
life (and death and suffering) in Biafra, one slowly comes to recognize
that, for Achebe, ‘Biafra’ and ‘Igbo’ are inextricably conflated. Yet, it is a
simple fact of history that Biafra was a multi-ethnic state.
Last, most independent and fair-minded historians and analysts of
the Biafra-Nigeria war know and state that, like the Nigerian forces,
Biafran troops also committed terrible atrocities against civilian popu-
lations, most notably in the Mid-West region during their brief occupa-
tion and when they were in forced retreat before the advancing federal
forces. Yet Achebe blithely asserts in the book that he has not obtained
independent confirmation of this fact.
For me personally, it is a matter of great regret that the reactions
to Achebe’s book have been divided almost entirely along ethnic and
regional lines: ‘to thy tents, O Israel!’ Well, not completely, so there is
still hope that across our various ethnic and regional communities, we
can still forge alliances based on interests that combine the best and
the most positive values of our historic ethnic nations with progressive
egalitarian values that will work for the vast majority of our peoples
that remain disenfranchised and marginalized, regardless of how well
or how badly their rich and powerful ethnic brethren and sisters are
doing in Nigeria at large.
The decision to fight to the finish was the most fateful decision taken
by the Biafran ruling class of which Achebe was a morally and intel-
lectually authoritative figure. Coupled with this was the decision not
to accept the offer of a land corridor for getting food and supplies to
the starving and suffering masses of people in Biafra that the interna-
tional community pressured the Nigerian Government to make. These
two decisions played their own role in the mass starvation and death
of millions of the children of Biafra. Let it be known that by making
this observation I do not, whatsoever, intend any negative critique or
any gratuitous moralizing. This is because I am only too conscious of
the fact that political and military history in all parts of the world is
replete with such terrible decisions in times of war. War hardens people
immeasurably and many decisions taken during war often seem totally
incomprehensible later. I cannot imagine that the political and military
leadership in Biafra took those decisions lightly. If Biafra had survived,
the sacrifice would have paid off; defeat, on the contrary, made it infi-
nitely worse. I cannot imagine that Achebe was not haunted by the part
that some decisions of the Biafran leadership played in this particularly
harrowing and gnawing tragedy of the Biafra-Nigeria war. How did
he process this particular extra emotional, psychic burden of defeat?
Not a word about this is found in There Was a Country. I wonder, I really
wonder.
For all of us, the very least we can and must do is to begin to have a
more complete, a more complex and a more honest view of why and
how mass starvation and the totally avoidable death of millions, most
of them children, did happen in Biafra. If we can achieve this, we will
find it much easier to come to terms with most of the other seemingly
intractable issues raised in Achebe’s book. Thus, getting a fuller and
truer picture of mass starvation and the alleged genocide is a first
step, but it is a necessary one. More than any other book on the Biafra-
Nigeria war, Achebe’s new book, with all its contradictions and the
fierce controversies it has generated, provides a powerful basis for us to
take this first step.
Meredith Coffey*
*
I wish to thank Dr Toyin Falola and Ogechukwu Ezekwem for their support of this project.
I am also grateful to Allison Haas for her insightful comments on an earlier version of this
chapter.
1
Rupert Emerson, ‘The Problem of Identity, Selfhood, and Image in the New Nations: The
Situation in Africa’, Comparative Politics 1:3 (1969), 303.
2
United States, National Security Council Interdepartmental Group for Africa, ‘Back-
ground Paper on Nigeria/Biafra’, February 10, 1969, amended April 21, 2005.
3
Arua Oko Omaka, ‘The Forgotten Victims: Ethnic Minorities in the Nigeria-Biafra War,
1967–1970’, Journal of Retracing Africa 1:1 (2014), 29; and Jimoh Lawal, ‘Nigeria – Class
Struggle and the National Question’, in Nigeria: Dilemma of Nationhood, edited by Joseph
Okpaku (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1972), 280. For a more thorough listing of these and
other minority groups in the region, see Ken Saro-Wiwa, On a Darkling Plain: An Account
of the Nigerian Civil War (Port Harcourt: Saros, 1989), 53.
265
4
The distinction between ethnic and territorial nations, or nations grounded in jus san-
guinis as opposed to jus soli bases, is used widely. In using the particular terms ‘ethno-
cultural’ and ‘civic-territorial’, I am thinking especially of Anthony D. Smith’s usage. He
views all nationalisms as some combination of these conceptions, but of course that does
not preclude others’ usage of the terms as if they were mutually exclusive. See especially
Anthony D. Smith, The Nation in History: Historiographical Debates about Ethnicity and Na-
tionalism (Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 2000).
5
See especially Benedict Anderson, ‘Cultural Roots’, Chapter 2 in Imagined Communities:
Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, 2nd ed. (New York: Verso, 1991); and
David Lloyd, Nationalism and Minor Literature: James Clarence Mangan and the Emergence of
Irish Cultural Nationalism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987), 60.
6
Eddie Iroh, Toads of War (Enugu: Fourth Dimension Publishers, 1979); Cyprian Ekwensi,
Divided We Stand: A Novel of the Nigerian Civil War (Enugu: Fourth Dimension, 1980).
With regard to Biafra novels that have sidestepped the issue of ethnic diversity within the
secessionist nation, literary scholar Willfried Feuser noted in 1986 that ‘One criticism’ he
might apply specifically to Igbo writers about the war was their ‘blind spot for the problem
of minorities in Biafra’; see Willfried F. Feuser, ‘Anomy and Beyond: Nigeria’s Civil War in
Literature’, Presence Africaine: Revue Culturelle du Monde Noir/Cultural Review of the Negro
World 137–138 (1986),143. Indeed, S. Okechukwu Mezu’s Behind the Rising Sun (1971),
John Munonye’s A Wreath for the Maidens (1973), Flora Nwapa’s Never Again (1975), Ed-
die Iroh’s Forty-eight Guns for the General (1976), Ossie Onuora Enekwe’s Come Thunder
(1984), and Dulue Mbachu’s War Games (2005) make either few or no references to in-
terethnic tensions within Biafra, and any such references that do appear describe general
cultural or economic differences.
9
Eghosa E. Osaghae, ‘Ethnic Minorities and Federalism in Nigeria’, African Affairs 90:359
(1991), 238.
10
By the 1960s, Nigeria included approximately 15 million Hausa, 12 million Yoruba,
10 million Igbo, and 20 million people belonging to ethnic minorities. See Okwudiba
Nnoli, ‘The Nigera-Biafra Conflict – A Political Analysis’, in Okpaku, Nigeria: Dilemma of
Nationhood , 127; and K.W.J. Post, ‘Is There a Case for Biafra?’ International Affairs 44:1
(1968), 27.
Moreover, in many cases these ethnic affiliations were far from rigid or longstanding.
Colonial rule had generally fortified distinctions between ethnic groups, many individu-
als and groups ‘defied [official] classification’, and each group was far from homogene-
ous. See Terence Ranger, ‘The Invention of Tradition in Colonial Africa’, in The Invention
of Tradition, edited by Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni-
versity Press, 1983), 248; Ugbana Okpu, Ethnic Minority Problems in Nigerian Politics:
1960–1965 (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1977), 7; and Kathryn Nwajiaku-Dahou,
‘Heroes and Villains: Ijaw Nationalist Narratives of the Nigerian Civil War’, Africa Devel-
opment 34:1 (2009), 54.
11
Lawal, ‘Nigeria’, 266.
12
Osaghae, ‘Ethnic Minorities and Federalism in Nigeria’, 240.
13
Arthur Agwuncha Nwankwo and Samuel Udochukwu Ifejika, Biafra: The Making of a
Nation (New York: Praeger, 1970), 33.
14
Okpu, Ethnic Minority Problems in Nigerian Politics, 139.
15
Steven Jervis, ‘Nigeria and Biafra’, Africa Today 14:6 (1967), 16.
16
Nwajiaku-Dahou, ‘Heroes and Villains’, 52.
17
Oshita O. Oshita, ‘Ken Saro-Wiwa and the Trajectory of Minority Predicament in Nige-
ria’, in Before I Am Hanged: Ken Saro-Wiwa, Literature, Politics, and Dissent, edited by On-
ookome Okome (Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 2000), 38; and Rotimi T. Suberu, ‘Back-
ground: The Chequered Fortunes of Ethnic Minorities under Changing Political Regimes
in Nigeria’, in Ethnic Minority Conflicts and Governance in Nigeria (Ibadan: Institut français
de recherche en Afrique, 1996), Chapter 2 (not paginated).
18
Ibid.
19
Okpu, Ethnic Minority Problems in Nigerian Politics, 88–91.
20
Ntieyong U. Akpan, The Struggle for Secession, 1966–1970: A Personal Account of the Nige-
rian Civil War (London: Frank Cass, 1971), 152; and Saro-Wiwa, On a Darkling Plain, 58.
21
Conor Cruise O’Brien, ‘A Condemned People’, The New York Review of Books 9:11 (1967).
22
Nwankwo and Ifejika, Biafra, 207–208.
23
Ibid., 208; and Lawal, ‘Nigeria’, 273.
24
Elechi Amadi, Sunset in Biafra: A Civil War Diary (London: Heinemann, 1973), 21.
25
Post, ‘Is There a Case’, 38.
26
Osaghae, ‘Ethnic Minorities and Federalism in Nigeria’, 243.
this strategy were the federal government’s beliefs that the agitation for
secession was Igbo-led and that minority support would be a decisive
factor in the conflict. Just three days after the announcement of the
twelve-state system, Eastern Region Governor Ojukwu declared Nige-
ria’s secession as the independent Republic of Biafra, with himself as
the head of state.
From the beginning, significant tensions existed between Igbo and
ethnic minorities within Biafra. Some minorities were eager to be mem-
bers of the new nation, fighting on the Biafran side in the war, remain-
ing in civil service positions, and otherwise supporting Biafra’s cause.27
Others merely accepted the secession. Still others, however, believed
from the start that they would be second-class citizens in the Igbo-
majority nation. Just after the secession, many minority university stu-
dents departed abruptly from the University of Nigeria (soon to become
the University of Biafra), while other minority easterners resigned
from their civil service jobs.28 Later, as Nigerian federal forces gradu-
ally reclaimed portions of Biafran land, Biafran forces compelled many
minorities to abandon their homes and ‘shepherded’ them into refugee
camps in the remaining Biafran territory.29 As Biafra’s defeat looked
increasingly likely, accusations against minority ‘saboteurs’ became a
means of deflecting attention from Biafra’s increasing military failures
and widespread starvation.30 Detention camps, which mostly contained
accused minorities, ‘sprang up’.31 From enthusiastic Biafrans to politi-
cal prisoners, ethnic minorities occupied a wide range of places in the
secessionist nation.
27
Nwajiaku-Dahou, ‘Heroes and Villains’, 62.
28
Stephen Vincent, ‘Should Biafra Survive?’, Transition 32 (1967), 57; and Nwajiaku-Da-
hou, ‘Heroes and Villains’, 61.
29
Saro-Wiwa, On a Darkling Plain, 187.
30
Ibid., 62.
31
Amadi, Sunset in Biafra, 20.
32
Peter Ekeh, ‘Citizenship and Political Conflict’, in Okpaku, Nigeria: Dilemma of Nationhood,
103.
33
Murray Last, ‘Reconciliation and Memory in Postwar Nigeria’, in Violence and Subjectiv-
ity, edited by Veena Das, Arthur Kleinman, Mamphela Ramphele, and Pamela Reynolds
(Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2000), 318.
39
Vincent, ‘Should Biafra Survive?’, 55 and 57, respectively.
40
Last, ‘Reconciliation and Memory’, 318.
41
‘Proclamation of the Republic of Biafra’, International Legal Materials 6:4 (1967),
665–678.
42
Ibid., 679–680.
43
Chinua Achebe, There Was a Country: A Personal History of Biafra (New York: Penguin,
2012), 143.
44
National Guidance Committee of Biafra, ‘The Ahiara Declaration (The Principles of the
Biafran Revolution)’, delivered as a speech by Chukwuemeka Ojukwu, June 1, 1969.
confined to Ibo land; the Efiks, Calabars, Ibibios and Ogonis have suf-
fered heavily.’50 He also argues that, partially as a consequence, ethnic
minorities were equally supportive of and involved in the Biafran cause:
‘All the on-the-spot evidence indicated that the minority groups fully
participated in the decision-making process to get out of Nigeria, and
were as enthusiastic as the Ibos.’51 As Forsyth’s and Nwankwo and Ifeji-
ka’s texts demonstrate, illustrating territorial unity in the face of ethnic
diversity was a priority for these and other pro-Biafra historiographers.
50
Frederick Forsyth, The Biafra Story (Baltimore: Penguin, 1969), 211.
51
Ibid., 159.
52
Earlier Biafran War novels include S. Okechukwu Mezu’s Behind the Rising Sun (1971),
John Munonye’s A Wreath for the Maidens (1973), I.N.C. Aniebo’s The Anonymity of Sac-
rifice (1974), and Flora Nwapa’s Never Again (1975). Several of the other earlier best
known works about Biafra fell into other genres, like Wole Soyinka’s prison memoir The
Man Died (1972), Chinua Achebe’s short story collection Girls at War and Other Stories
(1972), and Elechi Amadi’s memoir Sunset in Biafra: A Civil War Diary (1973).
53
Chukwuemeka Ike, Sunset at Dawn: A Novel of the Biafran War (Ibadan, Nigeria: Univer-
sity Press, 1976), 17.
54
Ibid., 62.
55
‘Ikot Ekpene Local Government Area’, Akwa Ibom State Government Online, last modified
2012, www.aksgonline.com.ws033.alentus.com/lga.aspx?qrID=ikotekpene (accessed
November 10, 2014); and Ike, Sunset at Dawn, 24, 69.
etcetera’.56 By placing Bassey in the middle of this list, the text includes
him as equally and no differently Biafran from his Igbo peers (even
though they have all just become Nigerians again, in this final post-war
section of the novel).
That said, the text avoids connecting Bassey to any specific ethnic
group and detaches him from his community in Ikot Ekpene. Sunset at
Dawn never names his ethnic identity, which precludes the novel from
making any broader claims about specific ethnic groups’ belonging
within Biafra. Moreover, Bassey’s connections to his imprecisely identi-
fied community of origin are severed over the course of the novel: he
loses touch with his family; he is betrayed by his ‘own people’ (whoever
they might be) to federal Nigerian forces; and he expresses a greater
appreciation for his Igbo Biafran friends than for the childhood friend
who risks his own life to save Bassey’s.57 In this way, the text’s appar-
ent promotion of the official Biafran narrative of territorial inclusion
is framed very carefully, leaving space to question the completeness of
minority inclusion. Attentive readers might ask, for instance, whether
it was essential for Bassey to disconnect from his community in order to
belong as a Biafran. What might at first seem like an obvious illustration
of Biafra’s declared inclusiveness (Bassey’s Biafranism) thus seems to be
a nuanced and somewhat cautious engagement after all.
In contrast with Bassey, an unnamed old man from an unidentified
minority group provides a clear-cut instance of minority exclusion from
the nation. Initially, the man had demonstrated tremendous loyalty to
Biafra: he had served as a Junior Minister, subscribed enthusiastically
to Biafran ideology, contributed materially to the new state, and tried
to persuade members of his own ethnic group to contribute as well.58
Despite his emotional, professional, and material commitments to
Biafra, the man nonetheless goes on to lose his ‘wife and four teenage
sons’ in an ‘unprovoked midnight massacre of his people by a neigh-
bouring Igbo village’ while he was out of town negotiating, ironically,
for relief for Biafran refugees.59 Here, the Biafran nation proves unable
to accommodate the ethnic minority family, and in response to the
devastating tragedy, the man decides to support the federal Nigerian
cause instead. The characters never lament the ‘unprovoked midnight
massacre’.60 They merely treat this change in loyalties as tragic but
understandable: the refugee camp organizers observe ‘his bitterness
towards Biafra’ without any particular reaction.61 The old man’s eager
56
Ibid., 246.
57
Ibid., 171.
58
Ibid., 225.
59
Historically, this tragic turn of events was not unusual. Arua Oko Omaka’s ‘The Forgot-
ten Victims’ (2014) narrates several firsthand accounts of minorities initially loyal to
Biafra who were turned against as tensions developed over the course of the war.
60
Ike, Sunset at Dawn, 225.
61
Ibid.
participation in and support for the state were not enough to sustain his
claim to belonging in Biafra.
Moreover, Sunset at Dawn’s quick introduction to and dismissal of
this unnamed minority character in under two pages stands in par-
ticular contrast to its lengthy considerations of two Hausa women,
Fatima and Halima, as potential Biafrans. Especially given that Hausa
people were commonly perceived as the primary perpetrators behind
the 1966 atrocities and consequently as Biafra’s primary enemy, the
eventual rejection of these women from the Biafran nation is unsur-
prising. What remains noteworthy, however, is the novel’s insistence
on making Fatima and her quest to become Biafran a major plotline
throughout the novel, while relegating the unnamed minority man –
the only character explicitly identified as a from a Biafran minority – to
a brief aside. After all, at stake in the debate over Biafran nationalism
was not whether non-Eastern Nigerians, like the Hausa, were auto-
matically included in a territorially based nation. Rather, the contested
and relevant point was the place of eastern minorities. The emphasis on
Fatima’s nationality makes the discussion of the old man seem all the
more cursory by contrast. Though Sunset at Dawn is arguing against the
prevalent Biafran narrative of inclusiveness, then, it makes this particu-
lar point only briefly.
Even if the text’s critiques of the official line are marked by ambiguity
or brevity, the fact that it does so nonetheless marks the first time that
a pro-Biafran novel seriously remarked on this aspect of the conflict,
highlighting complexities beyond the secessionists’ optimistic claims of
a civic-territorial nationalism unencumbered by the territory’s ethnic
composition. Particularly by dismissing the old man’s claims to Bia-
franness, and by foregrounding and raising questions around Bassey’s
belonging, Sunset at Dawn offers a more nuanced counter-narrative to
any straightforward claim about minority belonging in Biafra.
66
John C. Hawley, ‘Biafra as Heritage and Symbol: Adichie, Mbachu, and Iweala’, Research
in African Literatures 39:2 (2008), 21; and Adichie, Half of a Yellow Sun, 257.
67
See Omaka, ‘The Forgotten Victims’.
68
Adichie, Half of a Yellow Sun, 395.
69
Ibid.
70
All quotations in Ibid.
71
Nwajiaku-Dahou, ‘Heroes and Villains’, 62.
72
As with the old man in Sunset at Dawn, the specific ethnic identity of Dr Inyang is never
revealed.
73
Adichie, Half of a Yellow Sun, 401–402.
74
Ibid., 402.
75
Ibid.
Here, Kainene becomes the only character in Half of a Yellow Sun who
expresses real certainty that all easterners are equally Biafran.
As Dr Inyang is obviously committed to the Biafran cause, working
under difficult conditions at a Biafran refugee camp, the novel offers
no reason to doubt her loyalty. Yet, immediately after Kainene’s reac-
tion, the text neither confirms Kainene’s statement nor just ends the
scene but rather goes on to create a sense of ambiguity around whether
Kainene’s claim that they are ‘all Biafrans’ is correct. The atmosphere
of ‘uncertainty’ is arguably not just due to the timid Richard’s confu-
sion about what to do in this dramatic situation, but also about the
characters’ more deeply rooted uncertainty about Dr Inyang’s Biafran-
ness. The fact that Kainene needs to use ‘violence’ to assert Dr Inyang’s
equal inclusion in Biafra suggests that identifying non-Igbo characters
as Biafrans might require force. This notion calls to mind the minorities
who were forced to move within Biafra’s shrinking territory as federal
forces advanced – cases in which violence kept minorities within Biafran
boundaries, as Kainene is perhaps doing here to emphasize Dr Inyang’s
place within the Biafran nation. In this instance, however, Kainene is
doing violence against another Igbo Biafran, not the minority charac-
ter. Her emphatic inclusion of Dr Inyang thus comes at a cost to a char-
acter who is already assumed to be included based on her ethnocultural
background. This twist suggests that incorporating ethnic minorities
may come at a cost to the majority Igbo, perhaps intelligible as the cost
of shared political power within Biafra.
In addition, Richard identifies Kainene’s action here as part of a
larger project of hers, involving what he calls ‘the erasing of memory’.
While he certainly makes various dubious claims about his own Bia-
franness, Half of a Yellow Sun is sure to rebuke those statements, usually
by having other characters deride him; in this case, on the other hand,
the chapter ends without questioning that Kainene’s violent affirma-
tion of Dr Inyang’s equal Biafranness could, in Richard’s words, even-
tually ‘destroy her’. Kainene has enacted violence upon another Igbo
woman – and a pregnant woman at that, carrying with her a future
Biafran – in order to obtain a goal, the inclusion of the minority woman,
that the novel casts as questionable and potentially dangerous, both to
the pregnant woman and herself. Given that Kainene later disappears,
never to be found by friends or family, an attentive reader might wonder
whether this excerpt is foreshadowing her fate – that is, whether her
emphatic inclusion of Dr Inyang leads to a fragility, as Richard fears,
that ultimately prevents her from succeeding in the risky trading mis-
sion that leads to her disappearance. In any case, as the various layers
of this scene exemplify, the novel’s portrayal of minority characters is
ambiguous at best; it introduces them amidst uncertain circumstances
and never resolves their place in the nation.
Like Sunset at Dawn, then, Half of a Yellow Sun raises the question of
minority belonging in Biafra. That Adichie’s novel acknowledges these
Conclusion
By focusing on the brief moments that raise questions about ethnic
minorities’ national belonging in Biafra, this chapter shows that Sunset
at Dawn and Half of a Yellow Sun treat the contentious issue uncom-
fortably. By addressing it at all, however, they gesture towards a skepti-
cism of a genuinely inclusive Biafran nationalism. That is, the novels’
hesitation to fully embrace ethnic minority characters as Biafrans does
not indicate any belief that minorities should not have been treated as
equal members of the secessionist nation, but rather that in historical
terms they often were not treated as such, despite the Biafran leader-
ship’s claims. Though subtle, these critiques nonetheless distinguish
these novels from most other pro-Biafran literature, as they indicate an
acknowledgement that the secessionist nation was not wholly ethni-
cally inclusive.
Moreover, the novels only ever consider individual minority claims
to Biafranness. No group claim is ever made, as Sunset at Dawn’s Duke
Bassey and unnamed old man and Half of a Yellow Sun’s Dr Inyang
belong to ethnic groups that the texts never identify. Without naming
their ethnic groups, the novels do not risk making a claim about Ijaw,
Ogoni, Ikwerre, or any other group of minority people belonging, or
not belonging, in Biafra. Sunset at Dawn’s and Half of a Yellow Sun’s
refusals to reiterate the official Biafran image of a civic-territorially
inclusive Biafran nationalism therefore betray an underlying anxiety
that has endured from the war’s end into the twenty-first century. Yet
the fact that these novels go as far as they do suggests a cautious desire
to acknowledge the complexities of minorities’ circumstances in the
short-lived nation.
Fiona Bateman
1
Vincent Lawrence, An End to Flight (Dublin: Faber & Faber, 1973). See p. 290, n. 29.
2
Desmond Forristal, Black Man’s Country (Newark, DE: Proscenium Press, 1975).
3
Chinua Achebe’s memoir of Biafra is titled There Was a Country.
284
That fire has been kindled in Ireland. If history speaks truly it is the mission
of the Irish to fan it to a bright flame on the hearths of the homeland and to
carry its embers abroad to light up the darkness of paganism.4
Nigeria was considered the jewel in the crown of Ireland’s spiritual
empire, and Eastern Nigeria, where Joseph Shanahan had first estab-
lished a mission in the early 1900s, was a significant area of missionary
activity for Irish priests and nuns. Over the decades, images of Africa
in Irish missionary discourse had mirrored imperial representations,
describing a savage and pagan space in need of civilization and Christi-
anity.5 By the 1960s, these representations were changing and countries
like the newly independent Nigeria were regarded as potential trading
partners rather than as populations of pagans to be converted to Chris-
tianity. Schools had been the primary tool in the process of conversion,
and Irish priests and nuns had been instrumental in educating Nige-
rians towards independence. Their influence was regarded with some
disapproval by the British. A letter from the Irish Ambassador in Lagos
in September 1968 mentions the difficulties being experienced by some
missionaries, which he suspects is partially due to the ‘attitude of our
British friends. For reasons of history probably and old anti-Missionary
feeling they are still hostile to our priests and specially the Holy Ghosts.’6
But the Nigerians were grateful for that education. In a speech delivered
at the Independence Ceremony in 1960, the Prime Minister, Sir Abuba-
kar Tafawa Balewa, spoke about opening ‘a new chapter in the history
of Nigeria’, and he thanked those who ‘had made Nigeria’. Among these
he included the missionary societies, remarking on the ‘countless mis-
sionaries who have laboured unceasingly in the cause of education and
to whom we owe many of our medical services’.7 In schools and par-
ishes in Nigeria, the Irish shared stories of their own country’s struggle
for independence, ideas and ideals that the Nigerians embraced along
with their more formal education. Missionary and teacher Pádraig Ó
Máille recalls in his memoir Dúdhúchas,8 how he explained to his stu-
dents the importance of their poets and intellectuals, and that he read
the poems of Irish patriots like Pearse, McDonagh and Plunkett to them.
When Wole Soyinka was imprisoned for the second time after speak-
ing out against the massacres in the North, the students and lecturers
in the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, met in tribute to Soyinka and to
4
Reverend John O’Leary, ‘Vocations’, Pagan Missions 3 (June 1924),78–79.
5
See, for example, missionary magazines including African Missionary, Missionary Annals
of the Holy Ghost Fathers, Pagan Missions, and St Patrick’s Missionary Bulletin.
6
Handwritten letter from Ambassador Paul Keating to Eamon O. Tuathail, Department of
External Affairs, September 12, 1968, National Archives of Ireland, 2000/14/23.
7
Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, Mr. Prime Minister: A Selection of Speeches Made by Alhaji
the Right Honourable Sir Abubakar Tafawa Balewa, K.B.E., M.P., Prime Minister of the Federal
Republic of Nigeria (Apapa: Nigerian National Press, 1964), 49.
8
This autobiographical account is written in the Irish language: Pádraig Ó Máille, Dúdhú-
chas (Dublin: Sáirséal agus Dill, 1972).
protest his arrest. The president of the literary society read W.B. Yeats’s
poem ‘Easter 1916’ and, identifying with the Irish experience, said that
the society’s members were observing a ‘terrible beauty’ of their own.9
After secession, Biafran Radio broadcast readings from Irish patriots,
supplied from the missionaries’ own libraries.
In 1966, only six years after Nigerian independence, ongoing inter-
nal problems and political instability made it apparent that there was
a real threat that the Eastern Region might secede. Staff in the Irish
Embassy in Lagos began to make preparations to evacuate Irish citizens
from the area. However when the Republic of Biafra was declared in
May 1967, over 250 Irish citizens chose to remain in the enclave and
refused to leave.10 Of this total, 189 were men and 78 were women; all
but three were missionaries. Apart from the Irish, there were probably
not more than 250 other expatriates in total (mostly Indian, Lebanese,
and about 70 British citizens) remaining in Biafra, so the Irish made
up by far the largest group. The presence of these Irish missionaries in
Biafra was central to the concern for and affinity with the Biafrans that
developed in Ireland.
Biafra’s existence was accepted without question. Missionaries gave
their address as Biafra and young Igbo (and other non-Igbo Biafran)
students in Dublin were described as Biafran rather than Nigerian. In
the Irish media, stories referred to missionaries who had been in Biafra
for 10, 20 or even 30 years, ascribing a historical existence to the new
state. These priests and nuns communicated with family, friends and
colleagues, reporting incidents and atrocities that were not being cov-
ered in the official accounts of the war. For decades, missionaries had
been the main source of information about Africa in Ireland and were
quickly recognized as a reliable source of news there, but now they
also had a role in alerting the international media to the humanitarian
crisis which was unfolding. Irish missionaries were the first to report
food shortages and ask for help to feed the starving population. As early
as December 1967 a report that a ‘group [was] being formed … to raise
funds for medical and missionary supplies to be sent to Biafra’ appeared
in a national newspaper.11 It was not however until the summer of 1968
that the disaster was more widely acknowledged, and the international
media began to report on the famine.
Given the nature of the Irish relationship with Biafra over those
few years, it is almost impossible to discuss or describe Ireland in
1967–1970 without mentioning Biafra. For the reader, a reference
to Biafra conjures up the Ireland of the late 1960s: the sense of help-
lessness that people experienced when faced with images of starving
9
Ibid., 229. The poem is a response to the Easter Rising, an event in Ireland’s campaign for
independence from Great Britain.
10
Irish National Archives, 2002/19/28.
11
Irish Independent, December 13, 1967, 12.
children, the belief that sending aid could save lives, the conviction that
the Biafrans were ‘like us’ despite the racial difference. The word ‘Biafra’
also reminds people of the endless, disturbing newspaper articles, and
the fundraising drives and social and sporting events linked to a war in
West Africa, when distant events seemed to have become inextricably
linked with their own lives. Sadly for those for whom Biafra was a dream
of an ideal civil society, the word also has connotations of disaster and
starvation.
From a political perspective, the Biafran struggle for independence
had huge resonance in a country that had just commemorated the
50th Anniversary of the 1916 Easter Rising. In addition, reports of a
developing famine struck a chord, recalling a catastrophic episode in
nineteenth-century Irish history that remained traumatic and unre-
solved. While these coincidences of experience may have been exploited
to encourage Irish support, the similarities were undeniable. In the
emotive context of war and hunger, evident differences in the circum-
stances of the two populations were ignored and the shared experi-
ences became the central focus. A newspaper article declared that, ‘as
descendants of a people who experienced similar suffering at the hands
of a more powerful neighbour, it was only right that there should be a
more ready response from us’.12
The political idealism of the Biafrans was celebrated in somewhat
romantic terms in the regional press with statements such as: ‘Biafra
is a new name in the political sky drawn by those political and military
leaders of the Ibo [sic] people.’13 However most of the public’s atten-
tion was concentrated on the suffering and starving population, and
it was this concern which prompted the massive fundraising efforts
and public manifestations of support for the Biafrans. Biafra became
an obsession, a public preoccupation; it was a constant presence in the
local and national print media, and fundraising events were organized
countrywide. The frustration of watching a distant population starve,
while politicians appeared to do nothing, generated an immense sense
of injustice. The Irish government was accused of ‘apathy’ and of refus-
ing to face the facts, even of doubting the testimony of ‘these coura-
geous priests’.14 Of course, behind the scenes, there was diplomatic
engagement but even that was immensely restrained; at the time it was
all but invisible to the public:
Our Government, in an effort to be neutral, has gone to the other extreme of
inaction … few have the moral status, or the gift of friendship towards Nige-
ria, that we possess. We have allowed these assets to remain idle through,
one feels, the timidity that is so much a part of our foreign policy in recent
12
‘Drumboylan Feis Proceeds For Biafra’, Leitrim Observer, August 10, 1968, 1.
13
‘Biafra and Ireland’, The Kerryman, July 13, 1968, 10.
14
Ciaran Carty, ‘Ireland’s apathy a bitter blow to Biafrans’, Sunday Independent, April 21,
1968, 10.
years … Ireland, too, MUST do all in its power to bring about a cessation of
hostilities.15
In March 1969 the Cork Examiner announced that it was time for
an Irish protest. The ceaseless accounts of atrocities, for which there
was irrefutable evidence from Red Cross teams, missionaries, televi-
sion crews, and newspaper reporters, could not be ignored: ‘For our
own government, the civil war has been an embarrassment.’16 The
writer argued that ‘to remain neutral in such circumstances would be
an indictment of our status as a Christian nation’. ‘Is indifference not
complicity?’, asked a headline in the Irish Press.17 The Irish people deter-
mined that Ireland’s role on the global stage should be as a small nation
that prioritized human rights.
Given the catastrophic events that unfolded, it is no wonder that so
many Nigerian writers have produced texts inspired by events in Biafra.
Comprising poems and short stories as well as novels, these explore the
war from a range of perspectives including those of women, soldiers,
and journalists. However it is unusual to find texts set in Biafra writ-
ten by non-Nigerian authors. One example is South African Charles
Kearey’s Last Plane from Uli (1972), an adventure novel that uses the
location as a backdrop for his characters, who are mercenary pilots.
According to the author’s notes, shortly after what he terms the ‘Bia-
fran-Nigerian shemozzle’, Kearey had met pilot Bill Fortuin who had
flown for the Federal army against the Biafran forces. Together they
decided to ‘do a novel based on the background of the Nigerian – Bia-
fran Conflict’.18 Frederick Forsyth had been in Biafra as journalist and
he drew upon that experience in his novel The Dogs of War (1974)19;
the fictional ‘Republic of Zangaro’, in which the adventure unfolds, is
based upon Equatorial Guinea. This genre of thriller might be described
as postcolonial imperial adventure. The focus is on the action of war
and there is little reference to politics or even to the humanity of the
people involved:
Swinging around I emptied the balance of the magazine of the FN [gun] at
them, firing in short controlled bursts. The firing stopped.
‘Those were Biafrans,’ Christopher shouted.
‘I don’t give a fuck if they were Chinese,’ said Tubby.
‘We shoot every bastard who tries to stop us.’20
15
Evening Herald, June 13, 1968.
16
‘Nigerian War – Time for an Irish Protest’, Cork Examiner, March 12, 1969.
17
Irish Press, April 15, 1969, 3.
18
Charles Kearey, Last Plane from Uli (London: Collins, 1972), ‘Acknowledgement’.
19
Frederick Forsyth, The Dogs of War (London: Hutchinson, 1974).
20
Kearey, Last Plane from Uli, 218.
In Ireland, the literary response was not extensive, but brief references
to Biafra in works of fiction illustrate the lasting impact of these events
on the Irish imagination.
In short stories, references to Biafra are brief and generally allude to
the famine, rather than the fight for independence. In one short story
by Ita Daly, ‘Aimez-vous Colette?’, the narrator bemoans the hypocrisy
of people in her town and their ‘absurd attempts at liberalism’.21 The
author is commenting on the latent racism in Irish society, mentioning
the ‘collections and fasts outside church doors for Biafrans, when every
mother within twenty miles would lock up her daughter if a black man
came to town’. She includes the clergy in her criticism: ‘And would be
encouraged by their priests to do so.’22 The main character in the story
remembers an African friend she had when a student in Trinity. She has
lost touch with him: ‘I never saw him again. He may have been killed
in the Biafran War (he was an Ibo), or he may be rich and prosperous,
living somewhere in Nigeria, with several wives perhaps.’23 The reference
to his ‘several wives’ plays to the ignorance of Irish people with regard
to the cultures and traditions of Africa. In a novel by the same author, a
character comments: ‘Children are starving in Africa and you’re turning
up your nose at a good tea.’24 This refrain was one with which any Irish
person who was a child in the 1970s would have been familiar. Even long
after the famine had ended, Biafra was commonly referenced as a place of
suffering and seemed linked forever with hunger. In a short story by Helen
Lucy Burke, a character mentions Biafra in that context: ‘“Ha!” said Mrs
MacMahon deeply. “And people starving. Starving. Bangladesh. Biafra.
Here in Rome, even”.’25 Author Michael Collins describes the character
Emmett, alone in a damp, abandoned landscape, who thinks to himself
that if ‘there was a kinship with Africa it was there in this famine death,
in the underbelly of these unknown fields with forgotten cottages, the
hidden past’.26 All of the above references appear in works written some
time after the events in Biafra, and they indicate the traces that Biafra
left in the Irish psyche and in popular moral discourse.
However, in this chapter I want to focus on two Irish works of fiction
based in Biafra, which appeared soon after the Nigeria-Biafra War and
which described the horror from the perspective of Irish characters.
These texts were of course intended for Irish readers and although they
were reviewed widely on their initial publication, and performance in
21
Ita Daly, ‘Aimez-vous Colette?’, in her The Lady with the Red Shoes (Dublin: Poolbeg, 1980),
79–91, here 80.
22
Ibid.
23
Ibid., 90–91.
24
Ita Daly, Unholy Ghosts (London: Bloomsbury, 1996), 38.
25
Helen Lucy Burke, ‘A Season for Mothers’ in D.J. Casey and L.M. Casey, Stories by Contem-
porary Irish Women (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1990), 13–33, here 21.
26
Michael Collins, ‘The Sunday Races’ in his The Feminists go Swimming (London: Phoenix
House, 1996),189–200, here 196.
the case of the play, they have received little attention subsequently.
The depiction of Biafra in these fictional accounts contributes another
perspective to the story of Biafra: that of the outsider as participant and
witness.
27
Vincent Lawrence, ‘Ibo Kwennu’, Irish Press, November 30, 1968, 12.
28
Ibid.
29
Vincent Banville, An End to Flight 2nd edition (Dublin: New Island, 2002). The author
will be referred to as (Vincent) Banville for the remainder of this chapter.
30
General Ojukwu’s words are quoted as an epigraph in the novel. It was a phrase he used
more than once: ‘Biafra came into being for this reason, to put an end to the flight of our
people’, Random Thoughts of C. Odumegwu Ojukwu, General of the People’s Army Biafra, vol.
2 (New York: Harper and Row, 1969), 25, 175.
place after place. Now this path has become the road to the slaughterhouse
here in the Ibo heartland.31
In Banville’s title, the phrase ‘an end to flight’ suggests the grounding of
an idea, an incapacitated bird, the limit of exploration, and a halt to the
endeavor to achieve change.32
The main character in the novel, Michael Painter, is an Irish teacher,
who remains in Biafra after war breaks out. Unlike the missionaries,
who choose to stay not only out of a sense of duty but also, more impor-
tantly, because they feel they belong there, Painter stays out of apathy.
He experiences the events as an outsider, an observer who is curiously
unaffected by the drama of which he has become a part. As in other
fictional accounts, the media interest and publicity surrounding the
war are noted and the suffering of the civilian population is described.
In this novel, additionally, the Irish priests appear as characters whose
roles are changing as the circumstances evolve. Their predicament,
caught between religious duty and humanitarian imperative is evident.
When author Benedict Kiely reviewed the novel, he remarked: ‘Just as
Rudyard Kipling was an interesting by-product of the British Raj, so this
interesting first novel might be described as a by-product of the Irish
Catholic missions to Africa.’33
Painter, who finds himself without a school or students to teach, is
emotionally detached from events. The war, as presented from his apa-
thetic viewpoint, seems hopeless and meaningless. The novel includes
some of the same scenes described in his short story ‘Ibo Kwennwu’.
In the shorter work, Painter is preparing to leave Biafra. He encounters
Irish missionaries, witnesses the aftermath of a market bombing, and
describes scenes at Uli airstrip. In the novel, while the situation deterio-
rates slowly, the tedium of war, the agony of indecision and the sense
of being an outsider are explored. The descriptions of kwashiorkor, of
refugees endlessly moving ahead of the armies, and of poorly-equipped
soldiers, are familiar. In this environment, Painter questions his very
existence and struggles with his inability to feel the outrage or compas-
sion that would seem to be the obvious response to his circumstances.
Painter can be a frustrating anti-hero; he is variously described
by reviewers as ‘emotionally paralysed’,34 ‘indecisive’,35 ‘listless and
31
‘Nigeria’s Civil War: Hate, Hunger and the Will to Survive’, Time, 92: 8 (August 23,
1968), 32.
32
It may also be a reference to the Austin Clarke’s poem ‘Flight to Africa’ (1963), a
critique of the Irish missionary project.
33
Benedict Kiely, ‘Back from hell to tell of horrors’, Sunday Independent, November 25,
1973, 19.
34
Russell Davies, ‘Con-man’s confession’, The Observer, September 2, 1973, 34.
35
Roy Foster, ‘Novels of the Year: A Sort of Vintage’, Irish Times, December 22, 1973, 12.
36
Colm Tóibín, ‘Back to a dark Biafran drama’, Irish Times, December 21, 2002, B11 (on the
occasion of the re-publication of the novel).
37
Peter Donnelly, ‘Too much bluff and nonsense’, Irish Independent, October 13, 1973, 6.
38
Mary Lappin, ‘Heaney’s Imprints’, Irish Press, September 22, 1973, 11.
39
Tóibín, Irish Times.
40
William Trevor, ‘New Novels by Irish Writers’, Irish Press, September 1, 1973, 12.
41
For example: Foster, Irish Times, December 22, 1973 and Terence de Vere White, ‘Irish
Publishing: Books of the Year’, Irish Times, December 28, 1973, A19.
42
Interview with John Boland, ‘Writers and the “Clique” Barrier’, Irish Press, November 9,
1973, 11.
43
Graham Greene, A Burnt Out Case (London and New York: Penguin, 1977 [1960]), 50.
44
Often considered as an English writer, Joyce Cary (1888–1957) was born in Ireland. His
novels Aissa Saved (1932), An American Visitor (1933), The African Witch (1936), and Mis-
ter Johnson (1939) were all set in Africa and drew on his experience in the colonial service
in Nigeria.
refreshing to find an Irish writer ‘walking confidently into the far ter-
ritories of Nigeria instead of concentrating on what Kevin Casey once
described as “moral awakening in a rural setting”’.45 Ironically, it might
be suggested that this is exactly the theme of the novel, but in an ‘exotic’
location with the addition of war and famine. Perhaps only the setting
has changed, the narrative formula has not.
Is Biafra then merely an unusual backdrop for a story about an
Irishman and his internal struggle for meaning? In his review of the
novel, Benedict Kiely notes that there is ‘a lesson we can learn on our
own island’, and again commenting on an account of brutality, that
‘such refinements are not unknown in our own dear land’.46 Rather
than seeing the location as an exotic backdrop, he clearly identifies the
universality of the human condition. He indicates the relevance of this
story to the Irish context of violence and dissent over identity; this dis-
tant land is no more savage than Ireland. Banville himself responded to
this question:
In my novel, Michael Painter, who is a very boring person, is the central
character, and I would hate to think that the plight of the people was being
used, even unconsciously, for a questionable motive, as just a backdrop to
the self obsessed main character.47
The interviewer commented:
What Vincent is very pleased with in his novel is the fact that he caught so
well the atmosphere of the country: indeed, he captures very powerfully and
with great immediacy what it must have felt like to live in that place during
that particular time under those dreadful conditions.48
The reviews were generally encouraging, certainly the story’s loca-
tion provided an unusual and novel setting, and the book won the
1973 Robert Pitman £1,000 literary prize.49 Even those who criti-
cized the writing style (‘it has metaphors the way babies have wind’)
acknowledged that it provided ‘an interesting close-up of the Irish in
Nigeria’ and was ‘clear-sighted about the difficulties of [the] missionary
priest’.50 Seamus Heaney and John Horgan agreed it was ‘an impres-
sive first novel’,51 and Roy Foster commended its ‘grace, economy and
incisiveness’.52
The novel is undeniably set in the specific circumstances of the Bia-
fran situation and the main character endures his personal struggle
45
Lappin, Irish Press.
46
Kiely, Sunday Independent.
47
Interview with John Boland, Irish Press.
48
Ibid.
49
‘Top awards for Irish Authors’, Irish Press, November 9, 1973, 1.
50
Donnelly, Irish Independent.
51
Lappin, Irish Press.
52
Foster, Irish Times.
within that context. While it might be suggested that the same struggle
would have taken place for this character regardless of his location, the
extremes of Biafra prompt a particular set of questions and challenges
for the individual. This is a story of Biafra, but it is a story about the expe-
rience of an ‘outsider’. Painter wants Biafra to be his struggle; he wants
to feel the same emotional attachment to the ideal that he witnesses in
the Biafrans around him, but he cannot. In the absence of that idealism,
that personal connection, the conflict is less romantic and more brutal
and that experience is the story that Banville writes. This novel can
never be comparable to those written by Nigerian authors, whose per-
sonal identity and suffering lay at the heart of the war – this is the story
of the experience of a non-Biafran. Painter is the central character, but
other figures in the story provide a variety of other perspectives. There
are missionary priests, whose lives are invested in this place which they
consider home. Ben Nzekwe, an Igbo man, who has studied in Dublin
and London and returned to his home, is initially unconvinced about
the war but, aware of history and the current crisis, he finally commits
to the cause. Anne Siena, the young American nurse, struggles with the
scale of suffering and a lack of resources. A nameless young woman
from the Rivers works as a prostitute. The residents of Ogundizzy, the
refugees, soldiers, and officers from both armies, as well as schoolboys
and expatriates all feature in the narrative to varying degrees. The war
with all its confusion and suffering provides the dark context for their
interactions.
Early in the novel, Painter is in a hotel with his friend Ben Nzekwe,
when they hear the announcement of Biafran independence on the
radio from which a ‘wheezy disembodied voice emanated, like some-
one crying for help from a long way away’. The ‘small scratchy voices
rose and fell’, the drum solo sounded ‘like pebbles thrown against a
window’, the voices were ‘tinny and indistinct’. Then at one minute to
midnight, there was a hush in the room and Ojukwu ‘slowly and clearly
pronounced the creation of Biafra’. Ojukwu spoke in ‘heavy sad tones’,
his voice faded away, came back fainter. ‘His words whispered through
the silence of the room: long live the Republic of Biafra and may God
protect all who live in her.’53 Then the new anthem was played.
Soon the compound where Painter lives and teaches is taken over as
a military camp. Rather than feeling exhilarated by the danger, Painter
feels as if he is living ‘in a thick cocoon of fetid cotton wool’. He wishes
bombs would fall, believing that the sense of danger might wipe away
the indecision and the self pity in which he is mired.54 In the hospital
ward, his friend Anne, a nurse, laments all the deaths. Painter responds
that the meaning is lost when so many die:
53
Banville, An End to Flight, 2nd edition, 2002, 24–25; all page numbers following are from
this edition unless otherwise specified.
54
Ibid., 42.
When someone that one knows dies there is sorrow, or rage, or perhaps even
fear. When many people die, it should only be read about in the newspaper,
or heard over the radio. It’s a statistic to be recorded and filed away some-
where in a dusty room.55
The author acknowledges the impact that the photographs and film of
starving and dying individuals had in Ireland and around the world;
without images the numbers would have remained mere statistics.
Painter is incapable of making a decision to leave but has no real
reason to stay. He witnesses the aftermath of a bombing and Banville
accurately notes that ‘the pilots usually chose to drop their lethal car-
goes on market places; bombs were very expensive and they had to be
as effective as possible’.56 The resulting ‘jumbled pile of limbless torsos’
does not affect him: ‘like love, grief also demanded involvement, and
responsibility, and above all, a sense of belonging’.57 Painter feels use-
less; he wants to be somewhere else. He has no words of consolation, no
love, not even anger to contribute.
Describing the attitude of the Igbo people, the author notes the
similarity of the Igbo and the Irish, something that was remarked on a
number of times during commentaries on the war, including by Ojukwu
himself.58 In the novel, the two white teachers are described as ‘differ-
ent’ to the Fathers and ‘in the extroversion of their Irishness resembled
to a great extent the Ibo themselves’.59 Painter recognizes this but feels
that ultimately they are ‘tolerated not accepted’ and finds that the life of
the expatriate is strangely similar to his life in Ireland:
By the time that Painter had arrived in Nigeria in the early sixties most
schools and missions had their own generators, kerosene powered fridges,
running water, film projectors; many of the roads were tarred, and even the
smaller towns had coldstores and cinemas. Painter had come 4000 miles
in search of a new lifestyle, in search of something strange and unfamiliar,
and he had settled into a society no different from the one he had left.60
Home is present in Nigeria, manifested in tea, bacon and cabbage, Irish
friends, and the month-old Irish newspapers. Painter thinks to himself
that his motive for staying is curiosity.61 For him, nothing changes as
the war progresses; he does odd jobs and teaches the soldiers, but he is
reluctant to leave something that he may never experience again.
55
Ibid., 44.
56
Ibid., 53.
57
Ibid., 54.
58
In an interview with Irish journalist, Des Mullan, Ojukwu joked: ‘With them [the Irish]
we have a special attachment – anybody who speaks English in Biafra certainly has a little
bit of Irish spirit in him’. ‘Biafran leader hopes solution to conflict will be found in Africa’,
Irish Independent, August 26, 1968, 5.
59
Banville, An End to Flight, 54.
60
Ibid., 55.
61
Ibid., 58.
affair’ develops into a description of the horror of the war, where fear
and rumor were the forces that moved the refugees:
In the beginning the dream of nationhood had hovered bright and stead-
fast, and perhaps the leaders still believed in it, but now after almost a year
of the reality of war the people saw the dream for what it had become: a
nightmare of confusion, a landscape of surrealism and distortion, where
nature had gone mad and children became gnarled obscene caricatures,
where men and women appeared like walking skeletons, where suppurat-
ing wounds and charred emaciated bodies were ordinary sights, and where
people wept, not out of the depth of their anger, but rather out of useless-
ness and self pity.68
Painter’s continued presence in Ogundizzy is an inconvenience for
Captain Basanji of the Federal army. Painter acknowledges that he is
only there because of his inability to decide, his prevarication; he is no
martyr. The Captain is there because he is ambitious; he wants to be a
hero. In a reference to the widespread media coverage of the war, he
acknowledges: ‘World opinion seems to matter in modern wars. This
one is particularly well publicized.’69 The Captain is volatile, violent,
and bitter; he resents the influence of the colonizer on his country.
Despite the danger, Painter seems confident that he will not be killed:
‘you cannot afford to have me killed … it’s not as easy to explain away
the body of a dead whiteman as it is of a black’.70 In further conversa-
tions, the Captain’s antipathy to the ‘whiteman’ is elaborated, and he
makes no distinction between the Irish and the British: ‘You are a prod-
uct of that culture which has been imposed upon us Africans. You have
succeeded so well that now we must try to live like you, yet inside we are
hollow shells.’ He also describes Africans as being ‘victims’, and asks:
‘Are we to be forever like small children?’71
The description of the priests (Manton, Osserman and Sanson) and
their involvement with the airlift at Uli, provides a compelling account
of the fragility of this lifeline. Osserman’s admiration of the Biafrans,
acknowledges the tenacity and ingenuity with which they continued
to survive:
They were fighting a war in which they were heavily outnumbered, both in
manpower and in weapons, a war which was spread over a vast amount of
territory, and yet they managed to operate a system of government which
worked, and a fabric of social life which varied little from that which had
gone on before hostilities had commenced.72
68
Ibid., 114.
69
Ibid., 120.
70
Ibid., 124.
71
Ibid., 147.
72
Ibid., 157.
The airstrip at Uli is vividly depicted. Small details such as the ‘smoky
glow’ of the hissing lamp, and the embarrassment the priests feel when
ordered to remove their white soutanes, provide an impression of
authenticity. There is a mention of plane wreckage, camouflaged but
still visible beside the runway, and graves with white wooden crosses:
a reminder of how hazardous this relief effort was. The ring of land-
ing lights is switched on briefly ‘like a frieze of candles held by pilgrims’
and then off again.73 Father Manton is led away, ostensibly to minister
to a sick man, but is transported to Ogundizzy, where explosives are
discovered in his Mass box and he is killed. Later that day the Biafrans
recapture the village, and the Nigerian captain is taken and tortured by
the people who blame him for Manton’s death.
Painter’s physical deterioration is described, as he abjectly cooks a
mouldy yam. His degradation of body and spirit is absolute. When he
hears that the Biafrans are back and of Manton’s death, his reaction is
muted: ‘I’ve been cured of feeling’, he explains to the Biafran Colonel.74
Ben, now a soldier, but one ‘too valuable to risk being shot at’,75 has
returned to take him to Uli; the time has come for Painter to leave. First
they attend the priest’s burial in the garden behind the house which
did indeed resemble a cemetery. The sticks that had once supported cassava
stalks leaned sideways like broken crosses, and the cement blocks which
were scattered about might have been fallen headstones … the crowing of a
cock from somewhere in the town was like the exhumation of a darker and
more primeval sorrow.76
The domestic landscape of Biafra has become a graveyard. Ben tries to
remember the dead priest’s face, but he cannot: ‘he always had diffi-
culty in remembering the features of whitemen – they seemed so alike
somehow’.77 The clay thudding on the coffin sounds like ‘the dull slaps
of exploding mortar shells’.78
Ben has lost patience with Painter’s continuing and fruitless search
for meaning, dismissing him with these words: ‘You epitomise for me the
kind of etiolated thought and culture that the whiteman has brought
to my country. Go! Leave us to find our own destinies.’79 They travel
together to Uli in a lorry and, looking back at Ogundizzy, Painter feels
nothing: ‘he had put down no roots’.80 On the journey, Painter spots
the Rivers girl, a prostitute they have both known and one of the few
people he seems to care about; he insists that she travel in the lorry with
73
Ibid., 155–158.
74
Ibid., 189.
75
Ibid., 192.
76
Ibid., 203.
77
Ibid.
78
Ibid., 204.
79
Ibid., 211.
80
Ibid., 212.
them. Soon afterwards mortars explode and the lorry crashes leaving
the driver dead and Ben injured.
At this point, Painter feels a blaze of desperation: ‘all of the fear and
hesitation seemed to lift from his heart, and he felt a strength in the very
essence of his being which refused to accept any further prevarication
or excuse’.81 They see soldiers approaching and Painter wants to take
Ben with him, but Ben resists. Painter says: ‘I have dreamed of freedom,
just as you Ibos have dreamed of it. It is my war as much as yours.’82
The girl walks away toward the soldiers and, watching her, Painter real-
izes she is pregnant. The distraction she creates provides Painter with a
chance for escape and he drags Ben away, and then carries him through
the bush. They eventually reach the river where he steals a small canoe.
Fishermen find them drifting and bring them to Ogundizzy lake, but Ben
has died.83
In the first edition of the novel (Lawrence, 1973), the final section
of the novel, ‘Epilogue – Resurrection’, transports the reader abruptly
from Ben’s tragic death in Biafra to a scene in a public house in Dublin, a
year after Painter has returned home. The atmosphere of a cold wet Jan-
uary night, contrasts with the warmth and noise of the lounge, and the
normality of the situation contrasts with the chaos of the earlier pages.
A reporter meets Painter, and is curious about the effect his experiences
have had on him. Painter confesses that he has come to the realization
that he has not changed in any way:
On the plane on the way back to Ireland I experienced a great depth of
despair. I believed that my life was changed utterly, that what I had seen and
been responsible for, whether directly or indirectly, was so traumatic that it
would live with me for the rest of my days. I was wrong. Nowadays I scarcely
think about what happened in Biafra.84
Robinson, the reporter, quotes something Painter said a year earlier
about Biafra: ‘Biafra is a dream of freedom. It is of the spirit and does
not depend for its existence on any material reality. It will never die as
long as the Ibo nation lives, for too much pain and suffering went into
its creation.’ Painter’s response is: ‘Did I really say that?’ He dismisses
his own words as having no meaning and asserts that the ‘people were
tired of the war, they would have given up long ago if their leaders had
allowed them’. Robinson argues with him: ‘But you can’t just dismiss
the whole thing like that.’ Painter replies:
I can if I wish … I’m tired of Biafra, I’m tired thinking about it and I’m tired
talking about it. Soon it will cease to exist and it will disappear from the
news and you and your readers will lose interest in it. There is no freedom,
81
Ibid., 217–218.
82
Ibid., 220.
83
Ibid., 226.
84
Lawrence, An End to Flight, 215.
85
Ibid., 215–216.
86
Ibid., 217.
87
Banville, An End to Flight, 231.
88
Ibid., 232.
89
Ibid.
and panel games. The very hardness of the book is an achievement in itself:
the Biafran barbarities cannot be shrugged off, a point that Mr. Lawrence
adroitly makes by causing his hero to do so.90
90
Trevor, Irish Press.
91
Radharc is the Irish word for ‘view’.
92
Fr Jack in Brian Friel’s play Dancing at Lughnasa (1990), set in 1936, is one example of a
returned missionary in Irish literature. He has been changed by his experiences and he
misses his African ‘home’ and ‘family’.
93
For example, see short stories by Mary Lavin and Maeve Brennan.
94
Val Mulkerns, ‘Stage and Screen’, The Furrow, 25:6 (June 1974), 323–325, here 323.
95
Ibid.
96
‘Quidnunc’, ‘An Irishman’s Diary’, Irish Times, May 24, 1974, 13.
97
John Horgan, ‘Ojukwu, brutal fall of a leader’, Irish Times, January 28, 1970, 7.
98
‘Kay Kent talks with Father Desmond Forristal’, Irish Times, April 30, 1974, 10.
99
Forristal, Black Man’s Country, 4.
100
Notes on a meeting, February 13, 1968, National Archives of Ireland, 2000/14/20.
101
Farrell Sheridan C.S.Sp., pages from Missionary Annals (April-May1968), National Ar-
chives of Ireland, 2000/14/21.
102
Notes on a meeting between Brigadier Ogundipe and Frank Aiken on September 17,
1968, National Archives of Ireland, 2000/14/24, VI.
103
Mulkerns, ‘Stage and Screen’, 324.
104
Forristal, Black Man’s Country, 6.
105
Ibid., 7.
106
Ibid. A similar reference to Africans being treated like children by the Europeans is made
in Banville, 147.
the growing militarization and the roadblocks which are a recent devel-
opment. The massacres of Ibos in Northern Nigeria are referenced,
reminding the audience of events which have led to the imminent
secession. During the conversation, Zachary paraphrases Shakespeare,
leading the Bishop to acknowledge the comparison of the Ibos to the
Jews – a common trope of the time.107
The young O’Brien is also regaled with jokes about Mother Gertrude
or ‘galloping Gertie’108 as she is referred to, a nun who is described later
in the play as ‘tough as an old crocodile and just about as lovable’.109
The history of the mission is recalled as Fr Mitchell relishes telling the
new arrival about Mother Gertrude’s campaign to clothe the natives; he
jokes about a consignment of knickers in a story which he has clearly told
before.110 He also refers to her disparagingly as a ‘crazy old bag’111 and
a ‘filthy-minded old faggot’.112 However, later in the play, a deep affec-
tion for her based on their shared vocation and commitment, becomes
apparent. In his anecdote, he makes fun of the discourse typical of the
missionary magazines (and no doubt familiar to the theatre audience)
in his description of ‘Nigeria as it was in those benighted days, a land
darkened by idolatry and superstition, a land of primitive lust and pagan
passion’, recounting a journey through ‘trackless jungles and snake-
infested swamps, fighting off lions and tigers and hostile tribesmen’.113
During their conversation, the young priest notices the racial dis-
tinction being made between European and African sisters by the older
priest, and challenges him. He cannot accept the casual racism, which
was an unfortunate element of the traditional missionary project. The
reluctance of the older Irish missionaries to leave and to hand over the
Church to African clergy is highlighted, and is compared with the atti-
tude of the colonial powers:
Mitchell: [T]he Church couldn’t survive here without the white missionaries.
O’Brien: How do you know until you’ve tried? That’s the argument the colo-
nial powers used. They said the Africans weren’t ready to govern themselves.
Mitchell: … Look at this damn country. Only barely independent and it’s
about to have a civil war.
O’Brien: … We Irish are hardly in a position to throw stones.114
When the Irish Bishop announces his retirement, Mitchell is shocked
that Zachary is named as the new bishop; the process of Africanizing
the Church in Nigeria is underway.
107
Ibid., 10. Also referred to in Banville, 157.
108
Ibid., 9.
109
Ibid., 11
110
Ibid., 12
111
Ibid., 27
112
Ibid., 30
113
Ibid., 12.
114
Ibid., 13.
115
Ibid., 24.
116
Ibid., 25.
117
Ibid.
118
Ibid.
119
Ibid., 26.
120
Ibid., 28.
121
Ibid.
122
Ibid.
123
Ibid.
124
Ibid., 29.
125
Ibid., 33. ‘Bold Robert Emmet will die with a smile’ is a line from a song commemorating
the Irish patriot and rebel, who was sentenced to death for his activities.
126
Forristal, Black Man’s Country, 34.
127
Ibid., 37.
128
Ibid., 38.
129
Ibid., 39.
130
Ibid., 41.
131
Ibid., 43.
132
Ibid.
133
Ibid., 44.
134
Ibid., 47.
135
Ibid., 48.
136
Ibid., 49.
137
Ibid., 45.
138
Ibid.
139
Ibid., 45–46.
140
‘Priest’s play irks priests, nuns’, Irish Independent, May 2, 1974, 1.
Conclusion
These two Irish texts share a similar ending – the escape or departure
from Biafra of the characters who, despite their desire to identify with
the Biafran cause, ultimately did not belong. Even Kearey’s thriller, Last
Plane from Uli, mentioned earlier, ends with the heroes’ escape from
Uli: ‘Behind the fires dwindled to pinpoints, and darkness engulfed the
last pitiful remains of a dying Biafra.’143 All contain a sense of finality
with regard to the wish for a Biafran republic. Kearey’s novel concludes:
‘Then, slowly, like an old forgotten dream, the memories would fade and
Nigeria would know peace.’144 Banville’s last sentence in the first edi-
tion of An End to Flight is: ‘Biafra belonged only to history …’.145 Only
Forristal’s play ends without that sense of finality. As the missionaries
141
Mulkerns, ‘Stage and Screen’.
142
Gus Smith, ‘Priest’s play on Biafra war’, Sunday Independent, August 12, 1973, 13.
143
Kearey, Last Plane from Uli, 223.
144
Ibid., 224.
145
Lawrence, An End to Flight, 217.
146
Forristal, Black Man’s Country (stage direction), 50.
147
Myles Fay, ‘Priests and Politics: Biafra a Year After’, The Furrow, 22:2 (February 1971),
114–117, here 115.
and Black Man’s Country is that unlike newspaper articles, they have
permanence and as such they stand as a record of a war, which, as Fay
commented, ‘entered the consciousness … of Irish people over a lengthy
period’.148 Biafra was a significant event that could not be erased from
history. Both writers were informed by their recent personal experiences
of Biafra and could also draw on contemporaneous media accounts to
re-create the atmosphere of uncertainty and disarray. By telling the
story through imaginary characters, a range of different experiences
and responses to the situation are explored in each text. Though these
characters are fictional creations, it seems likely that they are based on
real experiences and responses to a crisis. Indeed it seems that reviewers
sought to identify a truth in these fictional texts. While media reports
provided a snapshot, these texts explore how characters might change
and adapt to a deteriorating situation. Both writers appropriate Biafra
and transform it into an Irish experience, but also acknowledge that the
Irish experienced the events differently than the Biafrans did.
The events in Biafra unfolded at a crucial time for the Irish Church
and its missionary project. Important issues arose during the war: What
was the role of the white man in an African country? Was the traditional
missionary an outdated and irrelevant character? The imperative to
employ emergency measures to save lives meant that these issues were
not properly examined or answered. The novel An End to Flight and the
play Black Man’s Country provide an opportunity for contemplation at
a remove from the drama of war and famine. Such texts provide a level
of reflection missing from the more immediate journalistic accounts,
while retaining the immediacy of the events in their narratives. These
additional perspectives on the war, from perhaps an unlikely source, are
another facet of the literature inspired by Biafra.
148
Ibid.
Adetayo Alabi
‘Death itself in many of our societies, you will remember, was one more
ceremonial transition. It constituted a passing in some ways no more fun-
damental, and certainly no less fundamental, than the transition from pre-
adulthood to the full status of the adult. Death was not an interruption but
a continuation.’
Ali Mazrui, The Trial of Christopher Okigbo, 37
Poet Christopher Okigbo remains an enigma who continues to feature
in African literature and the literary creativity and activities of sev-
eral writers and Africanists, including Chinua Achebe, Wole Soyinka,
and Ali Mazrui. Hardly can a discussion of the Nigerian Civil War of
1967–1970 take place without a reference to Okigbo because he moved
swiftly from being an accomplished poet to a soldier fighting on the side
of Biafra during the war, suggesting that the urgency of the war went
beyond poetry. One of the books that considers Okigbo’s role in the civil
war is Mazrui’s The Trial of Christopher Okigbo where Okigbo is tried in
After-Africa or afterlife for abandoning poetry for the war front. The
book is particularly significant because of its futuristic and magical
content and setting and its exclusive imaginative pretense to reality.
This chapter will discuss The Trial of Christopher Okigbo within the
context of the Nigeria-Biafra War and explore the highly resourceful
frame of the novel, the accusations against Okigbo, the trial, the defense,
and the judgment that follows. Mazrui’s indebtedness to magical real-
ism and science fiction will be examined, and the suggestion made that
the text is possible only because of Mazrui’s heavy reliance on those
two sub-genres. Some of the other issues the chapter will address are
whether there is any jurisdiction to try Okigbo at all either in life or
afterlife, whether the trial in the text can resolve the civil war conflict
in any meaningful way, whether there is a limit to how literature can
dictate the life of a poet or that of a soldier, whether the socio-political
considerations of the poet and the soldier are comparable or mutually
exclusive such that one cannot be faulted for choosing either path,
whether the discursive and counter discursive trends in literature itself
are symptomatic of the life of the artist and that of the warrior, and
314
1
Gary Westfahl, ‘Introduction: The Quarries of Time’, in Worlds Enough and Time, edited by
Gary Westfahl, George Slusser, and David Leiby (Westport, CT and London: Greenwood,
2002), 2.
2
Gary K. Wolfe, Critical Terms for Science Fiction and Fantasy: A Glossary and Guide to Schol-
arship (New York: Greenwood, 1986), 90.
3
Ibid.
4
Westfahl, ‘Introduction’, 2.
5
Ibid.
6
Ali A. Mazrui, The Trial of Christopher Okigbo (New York: Third Press, 1971), 25.
7
Bill Ashcroft, Gareth Griffiths, and Helen Tiffin, Key Concepts in Post-Colonial Studies (Lon-
don and New York: Routledge, 1998), 133.
8
Gabriel García Márquez: One Hundred Years of Solitude, translated by Gregory Rabassa
(New York: Harper, 1992 [1970]); Love in the Time of Cholera, translated by Edith Gross-
man (New York and London: Alfred Knopf, 1988); ‘Death Constant Beyond Love’, in
Other Voices, Other Vistas: Short Stories from Africa, China, India, Japan, and Latin America,
edited by Barbara H. Solomon (New York: Signet, 1992), 462–471; and ‘A Very Old Man
with Enormous Wings: A Tale for Children’, in Literatures of Asia, Africa, and Latin Amer-
ica: From Antiquity to the Present, edited by Willis Barnstone and Tony Barnstone (Upper
Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1999), 391–396.
9
Ben Okri, The Famished Road. (London: Vintage, 1991).
because the dwellers of Langbodo hear, in most distinct notes, the crow-
ing of cocks from the heavenly vault’.10
The seven men who undertake the journey to Mount Langbodo
cross different celestial and magical realms. A sampling of some of the
attributes of the seven travelers shows their indebtedness to science
fiction and magical realism. The mother of Kako of the Leopard Club
was ‘a gnom; his father a dewild’ but was born with human features.11
Hence he was abandoned and was raised by a hunter.12 The second was
Imodoye who lived in another realm outside of the human world for a
while. According to the narrator, Imodoye at ten ‘was snatched away
by the Whirlwind and he lived for seven years with him. In all those
seven years he lived on a single alligator pepper every day. He was well
versed in charms, wise and very knowledgeable, he was also a highly
titled hunter. These qualities earned him the name of Imodoye, that is,
knowledge fuses with understanding [sic].’13 Olohun-iyo, ‘the Voice of
Flavors’ was the fourth man: ‘he was the most handsome of all men
on earth, the finest singer and the best drummer. When he drummed
smoke rose in the air, and when he sang flames danced out of his
mouth; his favorite music was the music of incantations.’14 Another
warrior is Elegbede-Ode who grew up with beasts and has three eyes
and understood the language of beasts and birds.15 Next is Efoiye, ‘an
archer and he really belonged to the family of birds’.16 The sixth one is
Aramoda Okunrin, a man of opposites who feels cold when others are
hot and vice versa.17
Akara-ogun, the narrator, undergoes different adventures in the
story, marries a ghomid ‘no ordinary human’.18 She is ‘a spirit like the
ghomid’ and actually visits the interior of the earth as shown in his
encounter with Agbako.19 He resurfaces in the phenomenal world later
through the help of Helpmeet:
And then it was that he slarruped sparks ablaze in my face, proving to me
that he was indeed Agbako the Master. He thudded earth with his feet and
the earth opened beneath us and Agbako and I were sucked into the void.
When I arrived in the interior of the earth, I found myself in a strange house.
Of Agbako there was no sign, and until my return from this trip I did not set
eyes on Agbako again. Not until the day of our journey to Mount Langbodo
10
D.O. Fagunwa, Forest of a Thousand Daemons, translated by Wole Soyinka (New York: Ran-
dom House, 1982), 78.
11
Ibid., 85.
12
Ibid., 77–78.
13
Ibid., 85.
14
Ibid.
15
Ibid.
16
Ibid., 86.
17
Ibid.
18
Ibid., 69.
19
Ibid., 28 and 71.
was I to encounter him again – you will hear about this later – but what I
experienced until my escape from the depths of the earth I will never forget
in this lifetime, and when I am gone to heaven I will remember it all, even
there, for ever and ever.20
Akara-ogun, therefore, crisscrosses the worlds of the living, the dead,
and the magical and always resurfaces in the world of the living.
The magical qualities of the seven adventurers in The Forest of a Thou-
sand Daemons are amazing and improbable unless they occur in stories
and narrative traditions that show interactions among parallel worlds.
It is, therefore, clear that several African novels and tales that deal with
magical realism and science fiction predated Mazrui’s book. There were
major interactions between the worlds of the living, the dead, and the
unborn in those texts and in real life.21 These celestial interactions pro-
vide the background for Mazrui to set his trial in the world of the dead.
Some of Mazrui’s immediate indebtedness to magical realism are in
the development of the African trinity of the dead, the living, and the
unborn, in the notion of reincarnation, and in the magical invocation
of the dead. The spirit of dead Okigbo is invoked and is tried in another
world. The Trial, therefore, has clear elements of science fiction, magical
realism, and the fantastic genre of African narrative tradition all in it
and the book oscillates freely among all those categories.
20
Ibid., 24.
21
These interactions between the worlds of the living, the dead and the unborn are later
celebrated in Nobel Laureate Wole Soyinka’s play Death and the King’s Horseman (London:
Eyre Methuen, 1975).
22
Mazrui, The Trial of Christopher Okigbo, 48–49.
nowhere’.23 The above description obviously reads like lines from the
magically realistic work of Fagunwa earlier discussed. The setting of
the story is quickly combined with elements of science fiction as the text
refers to parallel universes of ‘a different world’ which necessitates ‘an
agony of incongruity’ and ‘the cloud-world’ and ‘same universe’ and ‘in
the world which Hamisi could now only vaguely remember’.24 The nar-
rative then introduces Abiranja and Salisha, his companion, mimick-
ing the author’s representation of parallel worlds of ‘dual personality
of newness and timeless ancestry’ and who ‘must have been the same
age for at least a thousand years’.25 It is only a combination of magical
realism and science fiction that can ascribe the age of a thousand years
to characters.
Abiranja identifies Hamisi’s dilemma of trying to figure out his loca-
tion because of the ‘veil of strange timelessness’ and asks him to wait
till their arrival at home and not to ‘attempt to reason it out’.26 The
mystery of the setting is compounded on arrival at Abiranja’s house
where Hamisi finds a shield that Abiranja identifies as the one Chaka
‘the Zulu conqueror, used in the battle of Umbutera’.27 The realistic
arrival in a house is combined with the magical discovery of a shield an
emperor used over a century before. The realistic question for Hamisi
is where Abiranja could have found the shield, but that is not forth-
coming because of the setting of the text. Another very important but
strange discovery in the house that deals with magic is the presence
of a vase, which was a gift to Emperor Sundiata of Mali by the Sultan
of Marrakesh. Realistically, Salisha is knitting a table mat for it. What
we clearly have here is a combination of the ‘past and the present, life
before and life after’.28 As the narrator describes the context, ‘[t]here
was a certain ambivalence to the situation – a relic of the Herebefore
dying and therefore surviving entire in the Hereafter’.29
The first reference to Christopher Okigbo in the text is when Hamisi
wakes up from his initiation sleep and sees Okigbo’s book of poetry.
From this casual reference to Okigbo, the narrative switches to the
realistic mode on earth where Hamisi tries to recollect his last moments
before suddenly appearing in an unknown world and his efforts lead to
a combination of some lines from Okigbo’s poems titled ‘The Passage’
and ‘Watermaid’ presented as a single poem. The lines from both poems
raise the question of location, a parallel universe of heaven, its gate,
watchman, and the world under. They also depict the stars that have
departed. These stars that have departed clearly correlate with Hamisi’s
23
Ibid., 1.
24
Ibid.
25
Ibid., 1 and 2, respectively.
26
Ibid., 2.
27
Ibid., 3.
28
Ibid., 8.
29
Ibid.
can hear the booming voice reciting Okigbo’s poetry.36 Abiranja who is
also in the room with them is excluded from that experience. The lines
from Okigbo’s poetry that are recited deal with the poet or his persona
standing naked and lost as a prodigal in the legend of the watery pres-
ence of Mother Idoto. Under Idoto’s presence, the poet is like a watch-
man at Heavensgate.37 The reference to Heavensgate links the parallel
universes of earth and heaven again in both Okigbo’s poetry and the
encounter between Salisha and Hamisi in Herebefore and After-Africa.
Hamisi is obviously confused about all that is going on around him
and he asks questions. How can you arrest someone after death? Is there
a police force or judiciary or government beyond the grave? He starts
getting his answers from a concept that came out of his conversation
with Abiranja, which is that ‘[d]eath is an exercise in Pan-Africanism’.38
As Abiranja explains, monotheism and Pan-Africanism or the ‘one-
ness of God and the oneness of Africa’ enjoy ‘moral indivisibility’.39
Indeed, there is a government after death and the implication of this
is that Okigbo’s trial in After-Africa is not just a Nigerian or a Biafran
issue. It is an African issue because jurisprudence in After-Africa is not
determined only by the location of a person but determined by issues
of concern to the whole continent. ‘Continental boundary’, according
to Abiranja ‘remained to lend ease of definition to the concept of com-
munity after death’.40 The earthly concept of heaven and judgment is
that of God’s autocracy and judgment whereas in After-Africa, there is
a form of democracy that allows the living some autonomy and partici-
pation in the judgment of the dead:
Sentences were not simply passed by one omnipotent judge, but permitted
the utilization of human juries, human assessors, and indeed human judges.
Great trials were subject to the jurisdiction of nine human Elders. God had
the ultimate prerogative of mercy, but much of the rest of the process of
justice was firmly in the hands of the living citizenry beyond the grave.41
There is also a global dimension to judgment in After-Africa that
allowed people from other continents who committed offences against
Africa to be extradited and tried in After-Africa. It is this arrangement
that allowed the trial of Cecil Rhodes in After-Africa for offences he
committed against Africa in the Herebefore. There is also the example
of Warren Hastings who was tried in After-Asia after been acquitted
by the House of Lords in old England.42 In relation to the Congo after
the death of Patrice Lumumba, it was one of the mutineers who was
36
Ibid.
37
Ibid.
38
Ibid., 24.
39
Ibid., 41.
40
Ibid., 27.
41
Ibid, 26.
42
Ibid., 27.
43
Ibid., 28.
44
Ibid., 62.
Later the skies of After-Africa announce the arrival of the nine Elders
of Judgment in their splendor. To give a semblance of realism, Hamisi,
the Counsel for Salvation (Defense Counsel) and Kwame Apolo-Gyamfi,
the Counsel for Damnation (Prosecutor) arrive at the trial. Okigbo him-
self does not appear at the trial because the rules allow him to watch
the proceedings with the audience or in his room. His voice and poetry
are, however, conjured to testify later at the trial.45 In the spirit of Pan-
Africanism which death in After-Africa is all about, several other nota-
ble African voices, such as those of Wole Soyinka, Kwame Nkrumah,
and Leopold Sedar Senghor are conjured to testify at the trial.46 As a
result of the global dimension of the trial, a non-African such as George
Gordon, the Lord Byron, was also invited to testify, along with the voice
of Oscar Wilde.47 One logistic issue earlier resolved by the Assembly of
the Ages was about bringing evidence from the living in Africa to tes-
tify in trials in After-Africa. The resolution was that those voices could
be summoned based on the genuineness or honesty of what they said
on earth. This provision would allow the Elders to admit in evidence
the voices of people like General Gowon of the Federal side and Colonel
Ojukwu of the Biafra side as needed.48
The Nigerian Civil War provides the most immediate background to
The Trial. The war was between the Eastern part of Nigeria and the rest
of the country and Okigbo was an Igbo from Eastern Nigeria. Prior to
1967, Okigbo was an accomplished poet with a long list of remarkable
poems to his credit, but left his career as a poet for the battlefield to fight
for the Biafran forces and he died in the process. What Mazrui’s book
does is to try Okigbo on a number of counts for his choice to defend Biafra
at the expense of poetry. Count one was Okigbo’s subordination of the
Nigerian vision to that of Biafra. This count presupposes a sacrosanct
boundary between and among nations, forgetting Benedict Anderson’s
argument that the nation is itself an imaginary construct. In the Nige-
ria example, several nations were forced together for the administrative
convenience of the British colonizers. The cultural and ethnic differ-
ences that exist among the nations were not considered when they were
joined together in a tension-filled relationship. For Okigbo, a nation
cannot be superior to another because every nation goes through dif-
ferent forms of evolution and the basis of the union has to be evaluated
based on traditional and contemporary circumstances.49 The visions
of Nigeria and Biafra can, therefore, not be contradictory because they
45
Ibid., 79, 80, 90, and 140.
46
Ibid., 89, 136, and 138.
47
Ibid., 109, 143.
48
Ibid., 75–76.
49
In 2014, the United Kingdom renegotiated its union when Scotland unsuccessfully at-
tempted to secede and form a separate country.
are both examples of nation building and the effort to form a perfect
union.50
The second count for Okigbo’s trial is that he acted as an Igbo first
and a poet last. As Solomon clarifies in the text,
Okigbo gave his life for the concept of Biafra. As it happens that was a moral
concept, transient to his inner being. The art of a great poet, on the other
hand, carries the seed of immortality. No great artist has a right to carry
patriotism to the extent of destroying his creative potential. The prosecution
is going to suggest that Okigbo had no right to consider himself an Ibo [sic]
patriot first, and an African artist only second. That was to subordinate the
interests of generations of Africans to the needs of a collection of Ibos at an
isolated moment in historical time.51
While the Counsel for Damnation argues that Okigbo’s death was that
of his poetry, the Counsel for Salvation takes an opposite view and
claims that the death was itself the deepest form of poetry.52
The second count against Okigbo presupposes the mutual exclusiv-
ity of the two categories of ethnic identity and vocation and that an
individual’s vocation is more important than the person’s ethnic iden-
tity. This vision of the individual is faulty because an individual is made
of so many things, including ethnic identity, gender identity, vocation,
class position, educational status, family conditions, and the like, what
Gayatri Spivak calls the subject effect.53 It is essentially the responsi-
bility of the individual to prioritize one identity over others due to cir-
cumstances. More importantly, of what use is any one aspect of one’s
identity when the other parts of his or her identity are destroyed by the
other parts? Of what use is poetry when the lives of the poet and those
of members of his or her community who serve as his or her muse and
sources of nourishment are destroyed?
Along with Okigbo’s trial, there are other trials in the book. Hamisi,
the Counsel for Salvation, is a Kenyan Muslim who is in love with Sali-
sha, from Northern Nigeria. He is on trial for the sin of miscalculation
in the Herebefore and is now being tried in afterlife. Like Okigbo’s trial,
this kind of judicial arrangement is improbable, but it happens because
of the science fiction and magical realism backgrounds of the novel.
Earlier in the Herebefore, Hamisi had interviewed Salisha on Okigbo’s
poetry. While Salisha defended Okigbo’s poetry then, Hamisi ‘was rather
50
On the possibility of a perfect union, though in relation to the United States of Ameri-
ca, see Barack Obama’s campaign speech titled ‘A More Perfect Union’. www.youtube.
com/watch?v=zrp-v2tHaDo; and www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/03/18/obama-race-
speech-read-th_n_92077.html (accessed November 20, 2008).
51
Mazrui, The Trial of Christopher Okigbo, 41.
52
Ibid., 90.
53
Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, ‘Subaltern Studies: Deconstructing Historiography’, in Se-
lected Subaltern Studies, edited by Ranajit Guha and Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak (New
York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), 3–32.
Conclusion
Ali Mazrui’s The Trial of Christopher Okigbo foregrounds some important
issues, including genre classification or terminology, the constructed
nature of a contemporary nation, and conflict resolution. Concerning
genre classification and terminology, the book is a mixture of science
fiction, magical realism, and African folktale. One cannot place the book
exclusively in one category because it shares features from all three. The
narratological frame of a trial in After-Africa as a location that could
be eventually empirically verifiable shows the futuristic nature of the
book and its indebtedness to science fiction. Related to this notion of
After-Africa is the African conception of the continuity of life in death,
as suggested in the epigraph to this chapter.
It is this idea of life in death and the unbroken cord that exists among
the living, the dead, and the unborn that makes Okigbo’s trial conceiv-
able in another universe. This futuristic element also links the story
with African and diaspora dramatic and cinematic traditions where a
part of a text can be set in a sitting room in Nigeria and in the next
minute the setting can change to heaven or another part of the world.
54
Ibid., 12
55
Ibid., 44.
56
Ibid., 144.
57
Ibid., 145.
58
Ibid., 142 and 144.
59
Derek Walcott, Dream on Monkey Mountain and other Plays (New York: Farrar, Straus and
Giroux, 1971)
60
Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of National-
ism (London: Verso, 1983).
When the Biafran Independence War – also known as the Nigerian Civil
War – broke out in July 1967, ‘exactly one month after the [third] Arab-
Israeli War’, as the omniscient narrator of S.O. Mezu’s Behind the Rising
Sun is quick to point out, the Biafrans’ dream was to replicate the feat of
‘the famous six-day war that saw Israel triple the size of her territory’.1
The narrator adds in the same passage:
The average Biafran knew that his new nation could perform the same
miracle if it had the means. But Biafra had not the means and its independ-
ence was barely one month old, independence that was declared in the dark,
independence that started with a total blockade of the country, independ-
ence that was celebrated with mourning in every family.2
Long after the physical combat ended, following the defeat of the gor-
geous dream of Biafra, the Nigerian Civil War continues to fascinate
students and scholars of African history and literature. This is primarily
because the world is so used to haunting images of the brutal impact on
the victims of the war, the thousands who were maimed, massacred,
or starved to death. But, owing to the surge of misinformation and
controversy surrounding the subject, which continues to reverberate
to this day, the Biafran War has remained, understandably, one of the
most equivocal events in post-Independence Nigerian history, and the
conversation around this contentious topic is not likely to abate any-
time soon.3 In order to be liberated from the baggage of obfuscation
and to properly understand the conditions that caused the demise of
Biafra and cut so deep a gulf in the lives of the people that their wounds
are yet to fully heal, it is pertinent to identify and closely examine some
1
S.O. Mezu, Behind the Rising Sun (London: Heinemann, 1971), 19.
2
Ibid.
3
For confirmation that no other subject has generated as many works, with perspectives
as diverse as the ethnicity of the authors, see Chidi Amuta, ‘Literature of the Nigerian
Civil War’, in Perspectives on Nigerian Literature, 1700 to the Present, Volume I, edited by
Yemi Ogunbiyi (Lagos: Guardian, 1988), 85–92; Chinyere Nwahunanya, ‘The Aesthetics
of Nigerian War Fiction’, Modern Fiction Studies 37:3 (1991), 427–443; and Chinyere
Nwahunanya, A Harvest from Tragedy: Critical Perspectives on Nigerian Civil War Literature
(Owerri: Springfield, 1996).
328
good starting points: S.O. Mezu’s Behind the Rising Sun (1971) and I.N.C.
Aniebo’s The Anonymity of Sacrifice (1974), the earliest substantial nar-
rative explorations by participant-observer, native Biafran authors of
those chaotic events that sabotaged the war efforts from both within
and outside of the ill-fated enclave.
Mezu’s Behind the Rising Sun is a tour de force in historical fiction;
it crafts, in a startlingly witty and innuendo-laden style, an eye-open-
ing account that goes to the heart of why Biafra fell. It lays the blame
squarely on a number of factors: lack of advance knowledge and equip-
ment, poor strategizing or planning and coordination, ineffective diplo-
macy, and a crippling culture of corruption that embroiled the overseas
arms purchase and shipping missions. What is abundantly clear in
Mezu’s account is the liability of Biafrans’ approach to the war. At the
start of the war, even ‘the head of the armed forces did not know how
many soldiers he had in the army he was supposed to be commanding
or how much equipment there was at their disposal’.4 Aniebo confirms
in The Anonymity of Sacrifice that Biafrans lived in a fantasy world and
approached the war under a rhetoric of exaggerated and unfounded
beliefs. A misconception that ‘once the enemy saw Biafran soldiers they
would leave their weapons and run away’, for example, made it ‘impos-
sible for unit commanders to plan comprehensively’.5 In the same text,
a good number of troops hold the false impression that ‘there was an
inexhaustible stock of ammunition and military equipment in the
country and that if ever the stock ran dry all one need do was go to
Europe and buy more’, because ‘this was as easy as going to the market
to buy yams’.6
Biafrans mythologized the war; average people entered the war har-
boring many illusions. They held out largely false hopes that the war
was going to be just as brief as their Israeli counterparts’ had been. As
chosen children of God they were destined to never fail at anything they
put their hands on. In Aniebo’s novel, Captain Benjy Onwura puts it
more explicitly in his bafflement, couched in a lament, at how one can
‘explain away God’s seeming callousness and indifference at the suffer-
ing of His people’.7 Mezu’s Behind the Rising Sun reaffirms that Biafrans
indeed entered the war not only under-estimating the enemy, but also
over-estimating their own strength and taking the expected support of
the international community as a fait accompli:
In the village, the farmer knew for certain that if the Nigerians attacked by
sea, the Biafran Navy would line the coasts with the debris of the Nigerian
Navy. If they attacked by land, the Biafran People’s Liberation Army would
push the northern borders to the banks of the River Benue. If they dared
4
Mezu, Behind the Rising Sun, 41–42.
5
I.N.C. Aniebo, The Anonymity of Sacrifice (London: Heinemann Educational, 1974), 9.
6
Ibid., 89.
7
Ibid., 82.
violate Biafran air-space with their Tiger Moth Air Force, the Biafran Air
Force would carry the war right to the limits of the Nigerian territory. Sea-
soned Biafran diplomats carried around heavy files predicting the number
of nations that would recognize the young nation’s independence within
two weeks.8
In general, the war galvanized the consciousness of the separatists,
but the federalists had military superiority. Thus, the war did not last
only a few weeks or months, as Biafrans had flattered themselves it
would. Instead, the battle dragged on for upward of two and a half weary
years; in that time, only a handful of countries gave official recognition
to Biafra: Gabon, Haiti, Ivory Coast, Tanzania, and Zambia. Assistance
in various forms trickled in from a few more countries: France, Israel,
Portugal, Rhodesia, South Africa, and the Vatican City. Captain Onwura
in Aniebo’s The Anonymity of Sacrifice at one point refers despairingly to
this ‘diplomatic recognition thing immediately after our declaration of
independence’, which wrongly presumed that about ‘eight countries …
were supposed to have recognized us’.9
Biafran chicanery took a heavy toll on the war effort. Mezu’s Behind
the Rising Sun indicates that matters were not helped when, barely a
month after the breakout of hostilities, anticipation of a relatively
meager cash flow, which they themselves had no intention of invest-
ing in the war effort, fooled the envoys into thinking that ‘the war was
over’ already.10 Yet, in a staggering leap of faith, the mere prospect of a
$6,000,000 loan from ‘the Pluto Trust Bank and about one and a half
million dollars projected to come from the Dubien exchange’ led Biafran
representatives, who had been sent to Europe to canvass for weapons, to
the self-deluded conclusion that ‘the end of war was a matter of weeks,
perhaps days, depending on how fast the equipment could be moved
down’.11
One of Captain Onwura’s earliest discoveries upon becoming Battal-
ion Commander in Aniebo’s The Anonymity of Sacrifice was that Biafran
soldiers lived in a fool’s paradise. Situation reports of commanders from
the frontlines were invariably laced with falsehoods, leading Onwura to
this conclusion: ‘Most of our commanders are inveterate liars … Patri-
otic exaggerators.’12 In the same novel, daredevil Cyril Agumo’s exploits
have earned him the reputation of being ‘immune to bullets’.13 Even in
their deaths, Biafrans found ways to shroud their fallen heroes in legend,
trivializing the horrors of the war. In Behind the Rising Sun, speculation
about Major Nzeogwu is just such a case. This tale, which had sent the
8
Mezu, Behind the Rising Sun, 20.
9
Aniebo, The Anonymity of Sacrifice, 43.
10
Mezu, Behind the Rising Sun, 59.
11
Ibid., 59–60.
12
Aniebo, The Anonymity of Sacrifice, 43.
13
Ibid., 95.
rumor mill into overdrive, held that, after Major Nzeogwu’s death at the
war front near the university town of Nsukka, his ‘burial with military
honours’ was ‘being organized in Kaduna’, the heart of the enemy ter-
ritory in Nigeria, because ‘Nigerians had the greatest respect’ for him
and considered him ‘to be the greatest officer the country – in fact,
Africa – had ever produced’.14 The unlikely idea that Nigerians would
mourn and decorate with military honors an enemy they had killed in
combat was one of those comforting myths that Biafrans used to shield
themselves from the shocking realities of war; even the envoys believed
it and contributed to its constant circulation.
Biafrans’ misplaced hopes of victory were destined to be dashed.
The difficulty was the inability to prosecute the war beyond the level of
the romanticized notions or tall tales, self-delusion, and emotion that
gripped the troubled enclave. The manner in which the overseas mis-
sion was managed left a lot to be desired. The Biafran envoys continued
to indulge themselves, oblivious of urgent messages from the frontline.
Here is one instance:
MOST IMMEDIATE
TOP PRIORITY
TOP PRIORITY
TOP PRIORITY
FOR COMMISSIONER IFEDI, REPEATED PROFESSOR OBELENWATA,
CHIEF IWEKA, LAWYER AFOUKWU, ENVOY ODORO AND SPECIAL REP-
RESENTATIVE RUDDY – MESSAGE BEGINS QUOTE:
SITUATION CRITICAL – NOT A SINGLE LOAD SINCE PROFESSOR NWOKE
LEFT PARIS – SHOULD WE GIVE UP – ENEMY HAS BROKEN THROUGH
BORDERS – OUR TROUPS HAVE BROKEN ALL BRIDGES TO STEM ENEMY
ADVANCE – SITUATION CRITICAL REPEAT CRITICAL – URGENTLY NEED
RIFLES COMMA AMMUNITION ALL CALIBRES COMMA BAZOOKAS –
CONFIRM ACTION IS BEING TAKEN WITHIN TWENTY FOUR HOURS –
DEFENSE SECRETARY – UNQUOTE – MESSAGE ENDS.
TOP PRIORITY – TOP PRIORITY – TOP PRIORITY – TOP.15
Testimony revealed that fact and fiction were so blurred for the Biafran
envoys, that when reports of the deteriorating conditions at home got
to them, they couldn’t care less; the harrowing situations faced by their
compatriots did not bother them in the least:
Lawyer Afoukwu said that if he had known that things would be as bad as
that, he would have evacuated some of his property in Enugu. He had more
than one thousand bottles of champagne sitting in his cellar. Obiora Ifedi
was less moved. He said that the situation was not desperate. He was used to
receiving messages like that. People at home believed, he said, that frantic
14
Mezu, Behind the Rising Sun, 69.
15
Ibid., 24.
messages like that would make them work harder … Chief Iweka said that it
was difficult for people at home to conceive of the amount of exertion and
anxiety those of them abroad suffered as they tried to charter a single plane
to carry arms and ammunition home. He promised that when he got back
to Biafra after the war, he would get everything straight. Those who worked
abroad deserved real credit for winning the war.16
The envoys’ immediate reactions to the emergency in Biafra were
lukewarm at best. The combination of denial and smugness reflected
a culture of collective stupor, while the subordination of public welfare
to self-interest manifested their misplaced priorities – the height of irre-
sponsibility. It is within this context that one should view their eventual
objective of setting up a ‘private company based on cost-accounting’ to
buy and ship arms home as self-interested, for what they wanted was to
make sure that they maximized their profit.17 They did not want to ‘pay
so much to the charter companies that they would impoverish forever
the future share-holders of the company about to be formed’ and they
wanted to have ‘the Board of Directors … paid for their services while
abroad’.18
16
Ibid., 24–25.
17
Ibid., 25.
18
Ibid., 25–26.
19
Ibid., 22.
20
Ibid.
21
Ibid., 100.
22
Ibid., 11.
23
Ibid.
24
Ibid., 23.
25
Ibid., 158.
26
Ibid., 14.
27
Ibid., 208.
28
Ibid., 12.
29
Ibid., 13.
30
Ibid., 145.
31
Ibid., 150.
Afoukwu had bought enough provisions ‘to last his wife a few weeks’.32
But his suitcases were subjected to neither a normal inspection nor to
customs duties, whereas a young unemployed graduate travelling on
the same plane, Titi, who had less luggage, was made to pay ‘the cost
of transportation from Libreville to Biafra for the excess baggage’ along
with ‘import duties on all the articles, including salt and pepper’.33 To
make matters worse, there were ‘no standards or scales and the charges
seemed to be at the whim of the officer in charge’.34
During the Annabelle airport incident in Biafra, the reader learns
that Onuoha, the ambassador travelling on the plane with Titi, ‘felt
guilty’ as she ‘watched him imploringly, begging him to intervene and
come to her aid, asking probably how Onuoha managed to avoid paying
a penny for all his luggage’.35 Not even someone as needy as ‘the young
woman returning from America to join her husband’, the reader also
learns, would be deserving of a helping hand from Onuoha, who drove
off in the convoy of ‘the small truck and a station wagon filled up with
Afuokwu’s goods’, leaving the woman abandoned to her own devices to
find her way out of the lonely airport, while knowing that public trans-
portation was virtually non-existent.36 Onuoha’s own thoughts on his
action are pertinent:
He could probably have taken along the lady and her child … As Onuoha left
her, he could not help realizing what must be going on in the mind of the
woman. She would probably be thinking that in Biafra there were also many
mansions and her suite was rather low on the scale.37
Ambassador Afoukwu could not be more on target: his unsympathetic
treatment of these women at the Annabelle airport in Biafra, who were
less privileged than himself, parallels the crassness of the euphoria of
the shopping spree in which he and his colleagues were caught up while
on their tour of major European cities. What both of these episodes and
the other incidents all show is that the Biafran envoys cared only about
one thing: themselves. Throughout all of the events in which they are
presented in Mezu’s Behind the Rising Sun, the Biafran diplomats exhib-
ited none of the restraint dictated by common wartime conditions; nor
did they extend any empathy toward those less fortunate. The preferen-
tial treatment accorded envoys who had stolen public funds to provide
themselves and their families with unapproved consumer goods was
doubly repugnant when they ought to have been more concerned with
the airlift of military hardware or relief supplies for the people they
32
Ibid.
33
Ibid.
34
Ibid.
35
Ibid.
36
Ibid., 151.
37
Ibid.
should serve and on whose behalf they went on the overseas mission;
these rogues are more deserving of prosecution than of honor.
Some of the issues about the integrity of the agents of Biafra, who
had been insulated from the devastations of the war, are also crystal-
lized around their second obsession: the ‘estacode’. This is ‘the living
allowance paid to those in the diplomatic service while they are serv-
ing abroad’.38 The wandering Biafran diplomatic service personnel’s
fixation on emoluments allows readers to discover another facet of
their self-aggrandizing behavior. It was one of the primary silent codes
through which the roaming Biafran agents bilked their troubled and
cash-strapped government of much-needed funds:
Very astute diplomatic servants can make lots of money this way. They col-
lect their estacode in advance on arrival for a planned ten-day trip. At the
same time, they collect transportation allowance. Having received these,
they usually get an Embassy official to drive them around in his private car,
and, on the morning of their departure, because they are in a terrible hurry,
they usually rush off in a taxi, leaving their hotel bills to be paid by the
Embassy. The Embassy of course pays with a smile, since it booked the reser-
vation to begin with. Besides, these perambulatory diplomatic servants are
so powerful that they can get the most efficient foreign-based officer sacked
with a stroke of their pen or a word from their mouth. The officer abroad
therefore pays the bill with a smile and is given a good pat on the back by the
itinerant ambassador, for the sake of his conscience, when he next comes
abroad.39
Instead of disavowing the existing arbitrary rules and bureaucratic pro-
cedures which provide so much comfort to African autocrats, the tour-
ing Biafran officials even found new ways to multiply the senior service
protocols of corruption inherited from Nigeria, such that
[s]ome itinerant ambassadors, the smoother operators amongst them, claim
their estacode in one foreign post and pass the period in another post where
they leave their bills unpaid. Though the responsible officers in charge of
the posts helplessly complain to each other over the telephone, no written
record is kept of the complaint and such dissatisfaction is not supposed to
show when the officer drives the visiting diplomat to the airport or carries
his luggage to the counter.40
In stark negation of all the ideals of self-reliance and honor for which
Biafra claimed to stand, the visiting Biafran dignitaries embodied the
sort of rank corruption that had supported the flamboyancy associated
with Nigerian leaders, who were infamous for their inappropriate diver-
sion of public funds. In theory, Biafrans defined their independence in
38
Ibid., 11.
39
Ibid.
40
Ibid., 11–12.
41
The argument for the secession of Biafra was circulated widely. Chinua Achebe states the
gist of it notably in his last book, There Was a Country: ‘There was enough talent, enough
education in Nigeria for us to have been able to arrange our affairs more efficiently, more
meticulously, even if not completely independently, than we were doing … One thinks
back on this and is amazed. Nigeria had people of great quality, and what befell us –
the corruption, the political ineptitude, the war – was a great disappointment and truly
devastating to those of us who witnessed it.’ – Achebe, There Was a Country: A Personal
History of Biafra (New York: Penguin, 2012), 158. Also see General Chukwu-Emeka
Odumegwu Ojukwu, Principles of The Biafran Revolution (Cambridge, MA: Biafra Review,
1969).
42
Mezu, Behind the Rising Sun, 11.
43
Ibid., 40.
44
Ibid., 41.
almost the very same people who advised the civilian Prime Minister until
his assassination, the very same people who condemned the Prime Minis-
ter and supported General Ironsi when the latter came to power, were the
individuals, the Commissioners, the Special Envoys advising the present
regime.45
Dr Okeji had a luminous vision of renewal: ‘the people, softened as
they were by seven years of a corrupt civilian regime … must change
their attitudes and see the nation first before their own interests’, and
he prayed and hoped that the ‘graft, nepotism and selfishness that had
led to the demise of the former Federation of Nigeria … would not beset
the new Republic’.46
The patriotic vision of Dr Okeji and other like-minded individuals did
not materialize, which resulted in the most obtuse forms of vulgarity in
the odious concern for rank, obsessive deference, and public demonstra-
tion of grandeur evinced by the Biafran diplomats. The way in which
their hosts exploited this weakness of the envoys provides insights into
how some Europeans of questionable character were waiting to pounce
at every opportunity they had. With close attention to those peculiar
proclivities, which their rich and powerful guests shared with African
leaders generally, the poorer members of the hotel staff, for instance,
would take adequate care to cater to these flaws so as to win small
favors. For example, the bellboys at the Lutetia Hotel would start
running up and down when they saw signs of affluence, for tips normally
followed close behind … A bell boy opened the car door as Obiora Ifedi
arrived, dusted his shoes with an immaculate white handkerchief, took his
brief-case in one hand, his umbrella in another and still found one to accept
the tip. At the door of the elevator, the service boy smiled and held the door
until he got his tip, even though the lift was automatic. On the fifth floor,
another service boy held the elevator door open for Obiora Ifedi and ushered
him to his door and kept it open until Mr Ifedi remembered to hand him
over something discreetly. Quite often, the stewards went out of their way
to ask Mr Ifedi if he had called for a drink, for with each drink came a com-
pulsory fifteen per cent charge for service. Nor would the visitor forget the
receptionist because when he had a phone call, she walked straight down
to the lounge and tapped him on the back, saying: ‘There’s a phone call for
you, sir’, as the rest of the common folk sat in the lounge wondering who
the V.I.P. so well known in the hotel could be. With less generous clients,
the receptionist usually sent a small porter with a bell and a board marked
with the name of the person wanted, ringing and inviting him to come and
answer his call.47
45
Ibid.
46
Ibid.
47
Ibid., 13–14.
48
Ibid., 14.
49
Ibid., 42.
50
Ibid., 14–15.
du Sud to pick up some people injured in a car collision. The Ifedi squad
motorcade followed closely behind as the ambulance blazed a trail with
its siren’.51 That improvised parade of cars, following on the heels of
the taxi episode, could be interpreted as a parody of the mode through
which Third World countries, in particular, typically carry and escort
their prominent members.
In developing a continuous likeness between the conduct of the
vainglorious Biafran autocrats and their counterparts elsewhere on the
continent, the text establishes a tract on the very stuff of which African
leaders of all hues are made: a brutish and compulsive need for a show
of power. A matter of immediate concern is the fact that the distinction
between the illusion of royal spectacle, which the ministerial motorcade
aspired to evoke, and the trauma of an accident was blurred, for there
is something rather chilling about people equating the two contrasting
situations.
Amidst the diversionary outlandish behaviors, what did get lost was
the focus on the envoys’ chief charge to procure ammunition and other
military hardware to deliver to the fighters back home – the raison d’être
of the Biafran emissaries’ European mission:
Monsieur Georges Blanc, Dubien’s associate, accompanied the group to
the airport and was going to travel to Toulouse with Lawyer Afoukwu and
Samson Anele. Tickets were bought for the three of them. The amount
paid for excess baggage was enough to give a young couple a Concorde trip
round the world and a two-week Cunard cruise on the Queen Elizabeth from
New York to the Caribbean islands. But there was a sigh of relief that all
the arrangements had been made. Professor Obelenwata was happy that
his family would have enough to keep them going for another six weeks.52
To say that the Biafran emissaries abroad handled their responsibilities
and the challenges and temptations of power that came their way poorly
is to make an understatement. They mismanaged the huge amounts of
money made available to them, throwing cocktail parties, wining and
dining in luxury hotels like the Escale à Hong Kong in Paris, and they did
not take their mission as seriously as was expected of them. There was
a clear indication that self-gratification was their top and bottom line.
Yet, Behind the Rising Sun does not lay all of the blame for the failure
of the arms purchase and diplomatic missions at the feet of the travel-
ling Biafran representatives, since they operated alongside opportun-
istic European swindlers masquerading as arms dealers. If the novel
teems with images of the Biafran representatives engaged in disreputa-
ble conduct of all kinds, it is as a means to make the force of the costs
for their pattern of misbehaviors weigh on the readers. It thus achieves
its objective of portraying the autocrats not by peddling rumors about
51
Ibid., 15.
52
Ibid.
53
Ibid., 75.
54
Ibid., 75.
55
Ibid., 80.
56
Ibid., 83.
hold of the seven million Nigerian pounds, but the attempt to smuggle
it back into Nigeria ended in a fiasco with its seizure at the airport in
Togo; ‘later on the Nigerian government bought it … from the bankrupt
Togolese Treasury’.57
In nearly every one of their quests, either for arms purchase and
shipment or for foreign exchange and bank loan procurement, Biafran
envoys found themselves engaged in a wild goose chase. Yet they could
never deter violent European fraudsters, whether operating alone, in
organized groups, or with Biafran collaborators, from hounding them
down. Nowhere did the Biafran envoys encounter any proposals as odd
as the ones presented by Pierre Richier. He appeared out of the blue and
presented himself as someone in the know, well versed in the conun-
drums of arms purchase and shipment as well as foreign exchange ven-
tures. As a solution, Richier offers to help the Biafran envoys to recover
money lost in unfulfilled contracts, promising to take advantage of his
‘banking connections in Switzerland who were willing to take risk of
changing’ the old Nigerian currency.58 Richier then went on to pro-
vide ample background information on several foreign exchange and
arms purchase scammers, whom he portrayed accurately as profligate
in criminality, before improvising what looked like a convincing con-
spiracy theory diagnosis of the Nigerian currency exchange quandary,
arguing persuasively for a consolidated marketing strategy:
The price of the Nigerian currency had gone down so much in Europe
because the Nigerian Government and the Bank of England had sent pow-
erful agents to Switzerland, France, and Germany. The aim of these agents
was to try to buy over at the minimum possible rate all the Nigerian cur-
rency available. He strongly criticized the Biafran sale effort. Biafran envoys,
Richier said, had not made the matter easy. The law of supply and demand
weighed heavily in this case. The prices of shares in a company go down
when too many start offering sale of their shares. Buyers become wary and
the prices go down. The difficulty in selling the Nigerian notes arose from
the fact that there were too many Biafrans offering the sale of the same
notes, often to the same buyer or to different agents of the same buyer. If
ten people start offering agents of banks the sale of one million pounds of
old Nigerian currency notes, sooner or later the impression is created that
there are actually ten million pounds for sale and this is enough to bring
the buying rate down from seventeen shillings to the pound to less than five
shillings. At that price even, buyers are afraid they might not recover their
investment.59
Richier’s intimidating analysis was so profound that the solution pro-
posed to correct the impression of over-supply of the Nigerian currency
57
Ibid., 103.
58
Ibid., 83.
59
Ibid., 84.
– by pooling all of the money together and putting it under his charge
for sale – persuaded the envoys, who arranged for him to travel to Swit-
zerland to market seven million pounds. Onuoha, one of the diplomats,
even took the trouble to accompany the tons of Nigerian currency, only
for the Switzerland money exchange proposal of Richier’s to turn out,
to the collective chagrin of the envoys, to amount to nothing more
than a bank deposit box arrangement for which the client would have
to pay hefty monthly fees. ‘It was obviously impossible, even in Zurich,
to exchange the Nigerian pound for an American silver dollar’, and so
the Biafran envoys were provided with the next leading prospect and
advised to follow it to Lisbon, in Portugal.60
There was a festering nest of European contractors who sought
to be employed by Biafra to clean up the mess left by other European
contractors’ flubbed services, all of whom were seldom strangers to
one another, as in the case of Dubien and Albert Bondieu, who had
‘known each other for more than fifteen years’, and had access to equal
amounts of information about the botched contracts.61 The whole thing
worked like a well-organized network of disreputable cronies operating
in such a way that the action of the initial contractor set up an enabling
opportunity for his anticipated replacement. The one coming to repair
the damage done previously depended heavily on that initial bungled
contract. The fraudsters were thus in a sort of self-perpetuating rela-
tionship of mutual unproductivity.
Albert Bondieu, for instance, approached the representatives with a
proposal to ‘help Biafra get out of the predicaments and its difficulties’
with the failed Dubien loan application and foreign exchange plan to
market the old Nigerian currency, as well as the foiled arms and military
hardware acquisition and shipment initiative. He envisaged a vaguely
defined mission to ‘set out with a team of three frogmen and go to Lagos
or Port-Harcourt and from there organize the sinking of the Nigerian
frigate, the S.S. Nigeria’. His estimates of ‘a paltry sum of one hundred
and fifty thousand francs’ and an ‘additional fifty thousand francs’
would save Biafra a lot because otherwise it would ‘have cost the Enugu
government, he argued, at least two million pounds to equip effectively
a Navy that could destroy the Nigerian frigate’, though ‘there was no
guarantee of success’ and the precious lives of ‘the Biafran Navy offic-
ers would be lost’.62 The superiority of the Bondieu plan, he claimed,
was self-evident.
Perhaps the most high profile of the European scam artists who bilked
Biafra of millions of dollars, Ulrich Merton received a 1.7 million pound
sterling advance to ‘collect warships and torpedo boats’ to deliver to
60
Ibid., 84.
61
Ibid., 75.
62
Ibid., 72.
the Biafran Navy.63 He received the money ‘directly from Enugu and no
formal receipt had been issued since the operation was supposed to be
classified “top secret,” and the contract highly confidential’.64 Merton’s
promise was ‘to equip fully the two warships and torpedo boats’ which
were to ‘arrive near Port-Harcourt in two weeks’ from Europe ‘and sink
the Nigerian frigate, S.S. Nigeria’ and then ‘isolate the other vessels one
by one and sink them with torpedoes and rocket-fire’.65
Time passed and Merton’s delivery promises failed to materialize.
As it turned out, the things Merton promised Biafra were in fact scrap
metal, for the place where he had taken the Biafran naval officers sent
from Enugu to inspect the construction of the weapons was ‘a yard
where torpedo boats were being built for a movie company shooting
movies about wars’ and ‘the vessels’ he had shown to them time and
again actually ‘belonged to a demolition company. They were Second
World War vessels being dismantled.’66 But Merton could not be held
accountable because there had been ‘a kick-back, as happens in the
United States to some highly placed government officials’ who offered
Merton protection from investigation.67 Merton decided to ‘work for the
destruction of Biafra so that the Enugu government could never come
to claim back the money given to him’.68
Arthur Kutzenov, a self-proclaimed large investor, said he was ‘a
French citizen whose parents had fled from Russia during the 1917
Revolution’ and had ‘lived through revolts in Czechoslovakia and
Poland’.69 Kutzenov laid claim to a pedigree no-one could reasonably
question regarding his declaration that he was ‘determined to fight the
Russians’ and ‘assist any group of people fighting for a right to self-
government’.70 However, Kutzenov was a scoundrel, and he skimmed
off a lot of money from the Biafran government. He did that by taking
contracts for ammunition, as well as for aircraft he could not deliver to
carry arms to Biafra. In one of the contracts, for example, Kutzenov was
‘to provide either one DC 7 or two DC 3 aircraft for the airlift of some
material stocked in Prague, mostly 7.92 millimetre ammunition, some
rifles and a few machine-guns’ and he insisted on ‘a down payment of
ten thousand dollars’.71. The representatives of Biafra in Europe scram-
bled to put the resources together, and Kutzenov was duly advanced
the required fee. However, come the day of reckoning it turned out that
63
Ibid., 64.
64
Ibid.
65
Ibid., 65.
66
Ibid., 72.
67
Ibid., 65.
68
Ibid., 72.
69
Ibid., 1.
70
Ibid.
71
Ibid.
Kutzenov did not have the aircraft he took money to deliver to the Bia-
fran representatives, and instead he presented one excuse after another:
Arthur Kutzenov now told the squad that the DC 7 had developed
engine trouble and that the departure would be shifted to about five
o’clock that day. That was not serious. He was expecting a call imme-
diately to confirm the departure time. The call did come almost imme-
diately. He was almost sure it was his call, so, without even giving the
owner of the hotel room the chance to find out who was on the phone,
Kutzenov took the receiver and answered the call … He hung up the
phone and turned slowly to the group and said that the plane could not
be repaired … Kutzenov regretted the slight change in the programme
and said that he had done his best. The following day, perhaps, the DC
7 would be able to fly to Prague, but he could not promise anything.72
Like all others of his kind, Arthur Kutzenov knew how to play the
system, and was dependent on the naïveté of his patrons, taking advan-
tage of the Biafran representatives’ unsuspecting natures. Indeed, their
failure to heed the timely warning from Jean-Pierre Dubien that Arthur
Kutzenov was ‘a first-class crook’ who could not even be entrusted with
someone’s daughter gives us the grounds to talk of the great betrayal by
the Biafran elite, as it took a thief to know his kin.73
When the Biafran envoys endeavored to set themselves up as inde-
pendent contractors, in a move intended to circumvent the European
con artists, it was revealed that their own motives were not any purer,
to begin with. The venture into the business of arms purchase and ship-
ment was driven not by a feeling of sufficient urgency to ship arms to
the fighting men on the battlefields in Biafra but instead by a motivation
to raise profits.74
However, other European arms dealers were similarly one step ahead
of the aspiring diplomats. These upstarts’ efforts at a venture that took
on elements of a privatization project opened them up to be further
hoodwinked. It is a tale of money, fraud, and power, with the conniv-
ance of even African-descended peoples of West Indian origin resident
in Paris, with false expressions of pan-black sentiments, like Colonel
Lavignette and Dr Eugene Fresco. Some European dealers who claimed
to be connected within a conglomerate called Air Branco, presumed
to sell planes, for instance, also swindled the Biafran envoys of more
money in the guise of helping them navigate French bureaucratic red
tape that prohibited non-French citizens from acquiring planes directly.
These European dealers took the Biafran diplomats to a place passed
off as ‘the office of the Engineering Director’, but, which ‘sounded very
much like the V.I.P. lounge at the airport terminal’.75 There, the dealers
72
Ibid., 6.
73
Ibid., 3.
74
Ibid., 25.
75
Ibid., 29.
76
Ibid.
77
Ibid., 31.
78
Ibid., 35.
79
Ibid.
80
Ibid., 37.
81
Ibid., 51–52.
82
Ibid., 51.
83
Ibid.
catapult him into the leadership position. But Nwomah’s plot in turn
shifted prominence to the power of the smuggled Nigerian currency,
letting loose an unprecedented power skirmish for its control. The
brawl over authority unchained the animal in each of the diplomats.
The magnitude of each envoy’s hubris showed how every one of them
could do anything for power, just to seize it and exercise influence. For
instance, when they sensed Nwomah’s plans, Ifedi and Obelenwata
teamed up to employ it to undermine him through a relentless search
for buyers in Switzerland of the smuggled Nigerian pounds.
The Biafran envoys were afflicted with a compulsive demonstration of
a love of power. Dubien’s ploy to remedy the foreign exchange shortfall
was to bring in US dollars by securing loans for Biafra. A much-needed
loan proposal was put together by Dubien for $6,000,000, but Nwomah
would not be outdone and showed up in France, only to be accused by
Lawyer Afoukwu of ‘running around with women instead of carrying
out the very serious mission with which he had been entrusted’.84 The
struggle to grasp power was not going to be limited to money matters,
and Nwomah and Obelenwata extended it to a rival game of seduction
with Mrs Judith Gatwick, a married woman, as the grand prize. This
intense competition for her affections ramped up the mutual suspi-
cions, which had coalesced around the Nigerian currency transfer from
Biafra. During one confrontation, with Obelenwata accusing Nwomah
of ‘going home to claim credit for a job he had accomplished single-
handed after weeks of exertion’, the arguments got so heated that a
neighbor had to come out and knock at their door, threatening ‘to tel-
ephone the police if the disturbance continued’.85
One of the principal laws of power is that the man of power must
conceal his intentions. Robert Greene, in his 48 Laws of Power, identifies
this as Law Number 3.86 But the Biafran envoys so crudely craved power
that their intentions were all too obvious. Judith Gatwick’s husband
suspected that the two envoys were in adulterous relationships with his
wife, and so received unique privileges at their office. Nwomah’s ready
reciprocity was to secure Gatwick a contract both to appease him and
to guarantee unadulterated, unrestricted access to the contract recipi-
ent’s wife. Obelenwata employed his rival’s adultery as a pawn to curb
the reach of his power. Ifedi’s bargaining chip, in a scheme for Nwomah
to ‘control all the foreign exchange you want’, was securing a commit-
ment from Nwomah to use his order as the Commissioner of Lands and
Survey to ‘allocate to me two thousand acres of land in the Rivers Prov-
ince so that I can cultivate tobacco’.87 In return, Nwomah wanted the
favor of Ifedi to ‘get the government to assign to him during his travels
84
Ibid., 56.
85
Ibid., 58–59.
86
Robert Greene, 48 Laws of Power (New York: Penguin, 2000).
87
Mezu, Behind the Rising Sun, 60.
88
Ibid.
89
Ibid., 127.
90
Ibid., 132.
91
Ibid., 132.
92
Ibid., 133.
93
Ibid., 134.
94
Ibid.
95
Ibid.
96
Ibid., 137.
97
Aniebo, The Anonymity of Sacrifice, 29.
98
Ibid., 32.
with very poor military tactics such as digging trenches, which, rather
than provide protection, actually threatened to kill the troops.99
Captain Onwura recalls how troops ‘had taken cover’ in a ‘well dug,
four man trench of the company commander’ with the ‘roof of the
trench covered with cut palm trunks and reinforced with huge sand-
bags’ and that ‘had looked impregnable when they dived into it’ only for
it ‘after a time’ to turn out ‘more like a trap’ as ‘loose sand pelted down
from the roof, and as the whine, chatter and reverberating thud of the
bombs increased they feared the trench would bury them alive’.100 Not
even the basics of self-defense and offense were taught to the youngsters,
so these untrained and undisciplined troops would sabotage themselves
as most of ‘the new officers threw away their rank insignias, anonym-
ity facilitating their escape from the war fronts’ while the ‘soldiers
themselves scattered in all directions, some running into the enemy to
be captured’.101 We learn that ‘seventeen Battalions had disappeared
overnight’.102 Biafran troop desertion was indeed high. After an enemy
attack subsided, Agumo discovers that when the trenches were hit by
the enemy fire they were all empty; his men had ‘all run like rats’, leav-
ing their arms behind.103 But reinforcements were so highly limited that
after sending out one ‘platoon reinforcement to each of his companies’,
Captain Onwura was left with only two soldiers in the headquarters.104
Yet, successful deserters ‘one way or the other, found their way to their
villages where for days they would brag about their imaginary exploits
and were feted by their kinsmen’.105
The high fear factor among the Biafran troops could not be allayed
because of the poor training available to them. For example, the troops
were ‘frightened of the shelling which had continued unabated, and
their officers could not give them the confidence they needed to over-
come this fear’.106 Having troops ‘not battle-worthy’ did not help mat-
ters; some, such as Lieutenant Dike, were even playboys in Biafran army
uniform.107 It was not unexpected that Dike should eventually desert
his command post. Not even the Ogbunigwe bomb concoction, Biafra’s
most dreadful weapon, could take away the fear factor from some of
these troops as testified by the ‘ogbunigwe men’ and ‘members of the
Biafran Army Engineers’ who abandoned their trenches without firing
their deadly weapon.108
99
Ibid., 29.
100
Ibid., 13.
101
Ibid., 32.
102
Ibid.
103
Ibid., 67.
104
Ibid., 84.
105
Ibid., 32.
106
Ibid., 47.
107
Ibid., 49.
108
Ibid., 68.
109
Ibid., 44.
110
Ibid., 45.
111
Ibid., 54.
112
Ibid., 52.
113
Ibid.
114
Ibid., 89.
115
Ibid., 13.
116
Ibid., 49.
had failed to do so’ after having given their word that they would ‘send
him some weapons the next day’.117 Okoye’s arms request was put to
one side, leaving the soldiers to battle without weapons. Officers in the
front line would put in requests for reinforcements that would end up
being denied by those at headquarters; Madike was warned not to put
too much hope on the promises he was given, because he ‘won’t get
any’.118 Consequently, the ‘list of the missing and the dead was long,
including the “A” Commander’.119
Just as far reaching in its undermining effects was that, contrary to
the popular belief, individuals who enlisted did so because they viewed
the Biafran army as an opportunity to live out their personal fantasies;
rather than responding to the sway of any coherent nationalist ideol-
ogy their driving force was the mundane, rather routine ambition of
achieving status. The recruits saw the Biafran army as a job like any
other, one that would provide opportunity for employment, promotion,
rank, and progress; there is ample evidence that it was not out of any
of the acclaimed lofty ideals of patriotic devotion to country that Bia-
frans joined their military services. The consequences of this proved to
be monumental. The recruits sought to obtain personal advancement
above anything else, and the performance of the soldiers ultimately
took its shape from that original enlistment aspiration.
That the motives for joining the Biafran army often have nothing to
do with commitment to the defense of the community can be illustrated
with the case of Second Lieutenant Ekemeize, who joined the army to
offset a lack of education, seeing the Biafran armed forces as his ticket
to a post-military service job. Ekemeize had to fabricate his age and
forge a certificate in order to qualify for enlistment. Right up until he
is killed in active duty as a platoon commander, Ekemeize never really
understands what the war is about; nor does he expect, when he joins
the army, to be deployed to fight. ‘This was why he was surprised and
frightened when, on the day he passed out of the School of Infantry, he
found himself in a gwongworo [old lorry], with many young men, head-
ing for the front, and a front where, from all he had heard, death was
a constant companion.’120 He decided to ‘desert as soon as possible’.121
Before he could act on his plan to give up the unit under his control and
hand over his duties to Sergeant Agumo, however, Ekemeize’s worst
fears came to pass and he was killed in battle.
The story of Cyril Agumo – even with all its extremities and sharp
edges – is perhaps the most apposite for closing our discussion of the
primary motives of Biafran soldiers for enlisting. Agumo is compelled
117
Ibid., 54.
118
Ibid., 43.
119
Ibid., 55.
120
Ibid., 58.
121
Ibid.
122
Ibid., 28.
123
Ibid., 37.
124
Ibid., 30.
Yes, Oh, Death where is thy sting? I think. And something about where is thy
victory?’125
Agumo is truly elated: his star has risen from the fall of another man’s.
From the outset, as we have seen, that’s the way things have always
been: promotion over and above one’s peers – including over their dead
bodies – was a powerful fantasy in the Biafran army, the attainment
of which the soldiers were wont to celebrate individually with total
abandon as it marked the fulfillment of longstanding dreams. It is not
surprising, therefore, that, Agumo’s pride should swell uncontrolla-
bly. Cyril Agumo gets drunk with power, to the extent where he wants
everyone to know that he’s now the man in charge. So, Cyril opens his
commander’s account and shoots a corporal dead, in order to give an
example to the troops that he will be a tough officer who means what-
ever he says. He shouts at ‘the three privates who cowered in fright.
“That’s what I do to people who run from the enemy!”’126
Agumo then summons the Company Sergeant Major (CSM), and
orders him to bury ‘that man … pointing at the corporal’s body with
his pistol’.127 As we learn, when the CSM accepts his orders and salutes,
‘Cyril returned the salute carelessly. He had never felt so good before
and he was determined not to let that feeling go.’128 Agumo next ‘went
back into the office, sat down at his table, and opened his bible [sic]’, but
it is disclosed that his mission is to find a rationalization for his obvi-
ously unbiblical act – which he does through misquotation: ‘The holy
book immediately fell open at a marked place – Ecclesiastes, Chapter 3’,
where his ‘eyes went straight to the verse he wanted to read: A time to
kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up.’129
Agumo has been no stranger to the attitude of reducing the business
of the war to a means for self-promotion; this has been his approach as
a platoon commander, one who ‘kept reminding himself that he really
was the platoon commander’ and that it ‘would no longer be monkey de
work baboon de chop’ as ‘[w]hatever he did would now be ascribed to him.
He wanted to do something really noteworthy. Something that would
make his superiors take notice of him.’130
But Cyril Agumo’s promotion, on this new occasion, actually turns
lethal: it elevates his power giddiness to unprecedented heights. This pro-
motion gets into Cyril Agumo’s head, so much so that he puts on more
airs, and he begins to take things so personally that suspicion takes over
completely in his relationship with those under his command. When
one of his former colleagues comes to give him a situation report from
125
Ibid., 87–88.
126
Ibid., 92–93.
127
Ibid., 93.
128
Ibid.
129
Ibid., italics original.
130
Ibid., 66.
the war front, for instance, Cyril Agumo starts to erect social barriers,
resolved to ‘put people in their place’. Agumo does not want to obtain
all of the requisite information to enable him to conceive a meaningful
action plan because ‘he does not want to get too familiar with’ his sub-
ordinates; he ‘felt that the more they discussed, the more the barriers he
was trying to erect crumbled’. But, ‘“I must always remember I am now
the commander,” he thought, “and also an officer.”’131 Cyril Agumo
grows increasingly insensitive to the situations of the troops, and is con-
sumed by his personal agenda of heroics and the accolades to follow;
and so, ‘whenever excitement took possession of him, most, if not all
of his actions became instinctive and thus he gained some measure of
invincibility, and personally took over the heavy machine-gun installed
in his trench’.132 Cyril Agumo acts like a lone ranger, discarding the
customary military team spirit. The men under Cyril Agumo’s watch
are retreating from persistently overpowering enemy fire, but he opens
fire at them, ‘cutting down those at the head’.133 Cyril Agumo’s cruelty
comes into focus in his uncompromising determination to enforce his
firm stand on deserters, irrespective of the grounds for their actions
such as having no weapons to fight back with.
Cyril Agumo adopts aloof, mercurial leadership styles, and detaches
himself from all under his command, fashioning a single-minded and
inflexible war strategy underlining confrontation with the enemy under
all circumstances. Agumo is even prepared to waste weapons, getting
the dreaded Ogbunigwe in the trenches and exploding them just to revel
‘in their doom-filled reverberations’. Captain Benjy Onwura, the bat-
talion commander, could not have made a more costly mistake than
to create the environment for a violent confrontation with Agumo, a
man he himself had promoted as a company commander. It all begins
with Agumo’s disobeying a retreat order from Onwura over the una-
vailability of food for the fighting men. Agumo takes it that ‘his bat-
talion commander was a saboteur’. Agumo’s argument is that ‘[o]nly
a saboteur could ask Biafran soldiers to withdraw as though they were
fighting on enemy territory and not in defence of their own hearths.
Only a saboteur would be prepared to surrender easily to the enemy an
area defended with precious Biafran blood.’134 This act of disobedience
by Agumo leads to a multitude of Biafran soldiers being killed, includ-
ing John, his assistant; but Agumo tries to take emotion out of the situ-
ation, determined ‘never to get attached to any soldier’ so as to avoid
‘moments of anguish, gloom, and loneliness’.135
Captain Onwura becomes embroiled in an ominous confrontation
131
Ibid., 91.
132
Ibid., 94.
133
Ibid., 95.
134
Ibid.
135
Ibid., 97.
with Agumo. The turning point is Onwura’s issuing a warrant for the
out-of-control company commander’s immediate arrest. Onwura artic-
ulates a profoundly intelligent and persuasive intervention strategy, not
narrowly and obsessively focused on attempts to take out the enemy.
The core of Onwura’s mediation tactic stresses that realistic appraisal
of all conditions is absolutely essential to ensure troop safety. Because of
his eloquent tenderness toward the soldiers, Onwura warns the officers
to factor their resources into all military plans so as to mitigate troop
losses; he wants the officers to steer the troops judiciously, in a manner
devoid of heroic excesses. However, when Onwura announces his plans
to use Agumo as a disciplinary example before he himself could have
time to take an offensive action, threatening the subordinate officer
with the humiliation of a court-martial, the move proves to be mortally
tactless: the altercation gets completely out of hand, as Agumo peremp-
torily pulls out his pistol and fatally shoots his own commander.
The publisher’s blurb on the dust jacket of The Anonymity of Sacrifice
describes Captain Onwura as an ‘elitist … career officer’; there could be
no better characterization of him, in our use of that term in its original
sense to mean something cut out from the best tradition of its kind.136
But, as often happens, wars have the terrible habit of placing men of
noble stature on paths which bring them into ghastly collision with
characters of lesser mettle. Wars are horrible affairs and the motives
of those involved may be tangled; they may not always be noble. This is
what happens to Captain Benjy Onwura: he brings exceptional sobriety
and prudence to a topic of genuine importance – troop welfare during
war situations. That is why his death at the hands of the very man that
he himself has promoted is savage in the extreme and elicits pathos of
the highest order; it is an undeserved end to an outstanding soldier’s
career and life, and Cyril Agumo’s devious act is a vivid demonstration
that there is no length to which some unscrupulous characters in the
Biafran army would not go to secure a promotion and then preserve it.
When a commander of Agumo’s ilk does not even care about his own
troops, that is not civil: it is uncivil. Cyril Agumo does get arrested in the
end and is sent to a remand facility to await his trial, along with other
detainees, where he may face a sentence which could see his own brand
of justice served on him and so give him a taste of his own medicine.
But that is only a mild consolation, because nothing can fully compen-
sate for the loss of an accomplished officer and essentially good man of
Onwura’s caliber, cut down in his prime in a cowardly manner.
136
Ibid., dust jacket.
Conclusion
Mezu’s Behind the Rising Sun and Aniebo’s The Anonymity of Sacrifice are
landmarks in the history of Nigerian civil war literature, being the first
comprehensive attempts at an evocation of the external plot and the
internal rot that were the downfall of beleaguered entity of Biafra to
be written by authors who observed the events first hand and clearly
understood what was going on there. Both novels are written in direct,
clear language that is devoid of embroidery to convey the horror of the
Biafran War. Both novels provide compelling and thorough evidence for
the inevitability of Biafra’s defeat, which lay embedded in the war strat-
egies it employed and the impulses of its servicemen, allowing readers
to see that the troubled enclave actually wielded in its own hands the
very instruments that brought about its eventual collapse; the Nigerian
army served only as the catalyst for the onslaught. Both novels convey
that the concept of ‘civil war’ is a misnomer when applied to this con-
text. This war was an ‘uncivil’ and ungracious war that was not fought
by well-bred, courteous, polite, chivalrous, and gallant men of the mien
of Captain Onwura.
This war let loose the worst instincts in mankind and enabled unscru-
pulous individuals to thrive. Aniebo reports in The Anonymity of Sacri-
fice that the federalists and the secessionists find out the hard way that
each side would deploy any weapon of mass destruction at its disposal
against the other and were willing to visit on each other the worst forms
of atrocities imaginable. The Nigerian army used new weapons that
had never been seen before by Biafrans; these weapons created scenes
of horror and terror. Sometimes, ‘a new enemy gun’ with ‘cumulative
delayed effect’ left a surviving enemy ‘weak and soaked with cold sweat’
and produced a ‘sinking [feeling] in the pit of his stomach’.137 At other
times, the more conventional ‘continuous harsh sound of automatic
rifle fire, interspersed with the heavy note of exploding mortar bombs’,
which made ‘the sun hotter than it really was’ and destroyed ‘most of
the trees in the area’, left the landscape looking ‘more of a grassland
than a secondary forest area’.138 At times, an ‘extremely heavy explo-
sion suddenly tore the air. The ground trembled. Three more giant
explosions followed in quick succession, and the air filled with cries of
agony.’139
In return, Biafra improvised the astonishing Ogbunigwe bomb,
described by Chinua Achebe in his unforgettable Biafran War
memoir There Was a Country as the most ‘important instrument of war
at the disposal of the Biafrans’, which ‘struck great terror in the hearts
of many a Nigerian soldier’ and was ‘used to great effect by the Biafran
137
Ibid., 14–15.
138
Ibid., 15.
139
Ibid., 16.
140
Achebe, There Was a Country, 156.
Françoise Ugochukwu
Introduction
Emecheta is mostly known for her novels reflecting on the domestic
sphere, on women’s lives, and issues of marriage and children. Regret-
tably, Destination Biafra, her novel on the war, seems to have been largely
ignored.1 Described in the author’s foreword as ‘a historical fiction’
which ‘simply had to be written’, the work follows the long journey of
Emecheta’s dream character Debbie from Lagos to the heart of Biafra, a
journey that both reveals the various sides of the war and deeply trans-
forms Debbie’s character and viewpoint.2 This chapter will consider the
novel’s presentation of the war through its using thinly veiled historical
characters and events as a background, the novelist’s reflection on the
causes of the conflict, and her presentation of the role neo-colonialism
and ethnic realities played in the conflict to show its unique contribu-
tion to the Biafran War literature.
A Novelist on History
The Biafran War, which ‘reflects the divisions between the various ethnic
groups carelessly yoked together in the colonial construction of Nige-
ria’ has been a defining moment in Nigeria’s contemporary history3.
It has also generated an impressive number of books, ‘a largely Igbo
tradition’, with Adichie and Emecheta being the only female authors to
represent that conflict within a larger historical context in their novels.4
Emecheta’s novel, described as ‘a bold and daring departure from the
normal domestic preserve of most fictional works of African women
1
Ann-Marie Adams, ‘It’s a Woman’s War. Engendering Conflict in Buchi Emecheta’s Des-
tination Biafra’, Callaloo 24:1 (2001), 288.
2
Buchi Emecheta, Destination Biafra (London: Allison & Busby, 1982), first quote ix, sec-
ond quote vii.
3
Niyi Akingbe, ‘Creating the Past and Still Counting the Losses: Evaluating Narrative of
the Nigerian Civil War in Buchi Emecheta’s Destination Biafra’, Epiphany: Journal of Trans-
disciplinary Studies 5:1 (2012), 35.
4
Hugh Hodges, ‘Writing Biafra: Adichie, Emecheta and the Dilemmas of Biafran War Fic-
tion’, Postcolonial Text 5:1 (2009), 2.
361
5
D. Sumalatha, ‘Privileging Politics as the Overriding Denominator in Social Transforma-
tion: A Study on Buchi Emecheta’s Fiction Novel Destination Biafra’, Language in India
13:9 (September 2013), 426. Also see J.O.J. Nwachukwu-Agbada, ‘Buchi Emecheta: Poli-
tics, War, and Feminism in Destination Biafra’, in Emerging Perspectives on Buchi Emecheta,
edited by Umeh Marie (Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 1996), 388.
6
Sumalatha, ‘Privileging Politics’, 424.
7
Abioseh Porter, ‘They Were There, Too: Women and the Civil War in Destination Biafra’,
in Emerging Perspectives on Buchi Emecheta, edited by Umeh Marie (Trenton: Africa World
Press, 1996), 313.
8
Sumalatha, ‘Privileging Politics’, 424.
9
Jago Morrison, ‘Imagined Biafras: Fabricating Nation in Nigerian Civil War Writing’,
Ariel: A Review of International English Literature 36:1–2 (2005), 13.
10
Ibid., 19.
11
Porter, ‘They Were There, Too’, 314.
12
Ibid., 316.
13
Akingbe, ‘Creating the Past’, 39.
14
Porter, ‘They Were There, Too’, 315.
15
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 1.
16
Ibid., 16.
17
Porter, ‘They Were There, Too’, 318.
18
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 16.
19
Porter, ‘They Were There, Too’, 317.
20
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 21.
21
Godfrey Mwakikagile, Ethnic Politics in Kenya and Nigeria (New York: Nova, 2001), 10.
For more details, see Eghosa Osaghae, Crippled Giant: Nigeria since Independence (London:
Hurst, 1998), 10, 36.
subsequent events – the elections, the Independence, the first and the
second coups, the massacres, the Aburi meeting, the Biafran Independ-
ence, and the ensuing war – again closely follow reality. The vital role
of women is equally brought to the fore, as when Emecheta describes
their trade in the no-man’s land between Biafra and Nigeria as ‘between
the fronts’.22 The Yoruba’s perceived betrayal, another key moment of
the pre-war events, is equally mentioned in the novel, which did not
shy away from including this bruising experience: after devoting sev-
eral pages to the trouble in the Western Region, the planned Yoruba
secession is dealt with in detail, with Odumosu informing Abosi that he
‘intended to declare the West a separate State; Abosi should do the same
in the East. So if the worst came to the worst, any war would be between
the north and the south.’ 23
Recalling events ‘just before and, especially, after the first coup’ is
crucial to understand the causes of the war, particularly the fact that
‘not a single top Ibo [sic] politician had been killed’ and the arrogance of
northern Igbo rejoicing after the coup.24 In addition, Emecheta alludes
to the importance of the oil discovery in the East shortly before Biafra’s
secession.25 When riots begin, it was
being noised about that the Ibos were striking it rich from the oil that was
being discovered in the Eastern Region, and one of the new legislations was
that the nation’s wealth would be shared almost equally between the regions
with only a slightly higher share going to the areas from where the wealth
originated. This the Ibos regarded as unfair … There were demonstrations in
the East itself.26
Paraphrasing Reality
During the civil war, Emecheta, who had moved to London in 1962,
‘was an active campaigner against British arms supplies to the federal
government’, and she personally witnessed the scene of a rowdy dem-
onstration in Trafalgar Square.27 But as an outsider to the events she
chose to chronicle, she had to rely on insiders’ reports from relatives and
friends who experienced the war first hand. This included the massa-
cre of Asaba residents and the Biafrans’ blowing of the bridge on River
Niger: ‘Debbie recorded all this in her memory, to be transferred when
22
Marion Pape, ‘Nigerian War Literature by Women: From Civil War to Gender War’, Ma-
tatu: Journal for African Culture and Society 29–30 (2005), 106, 230.
23
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 48, 52, quote on 99. On the Yoruba secession, see Emefiena
Ezeani, In Biafra Africa Died: The Diplomatic Plot (London: Veritas Lumen, 2012), 71.
24
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 66. Emecheta uses the colonial spelling of ‘Ibo’, now dis-
carded and replaced with the official ‘Igbo’.
25
Ibid., 6.
26
Ibid., 59.
27
Morrison, ‘Imagined Biafras’, quote on 13 and 241.
possible to the yellowing scraps of paper she dignified with the name
of manuscript’.28 For that reason, Emecheta’s ‘artistic depiction of the
historicity of the genesis of the post-independence Nigerian political
setbacks cannot be dismissed outrightly as inaccurate’.29
Emecheta’s note to the reader ‘is directed more towards readers who
are not really familiar with Nigerian history, as she briefly explains
the historical point of departure and key figures of her novel’.30 Her
decision to keep close to the reality of the ground, painting not only
the suffering and violence but also the political events and military
exploits, was possibly motivated by her desire to facilitate her readers’
identification with events described in the novel and support the politi-
cal reflections she explores in the text. Her occasional manipulation
and bending of history, regretted by some critics, is her way of using
the historical past as a basis and fitting it into her novel to interrogate
the role of the various Nigerian actors and foreign governments in the
political affairs of Nigeria.31 In Destination Biafra, Debbie’s friend, Babs,
reflecting on the casualties, comments that, for those outside, ‘the
women and children who would be killed by bombs and guns would
simply be statistics’.32 Emecheta’s novel is her way of translating these
statistics into reality.
The main protagonists bear fictitious names but are so close to reality
that they can be described as thinly veiled replicas of the real actors.
Ahmadu Bello (1910–1966), the Sardauna of Sokoto and traditional
ruler of the North, keeps his title; Odumosu represents Chief Awolowo
(1909–1987), Durosaro represents Akintola (1910–1966), Oladapo
represents Fajuyi (1926–1966), Ogedemgbe represents Okotie-Eboh
(1919–1966), Ozimba represents Azikiwe (1904–1996), Eze repre-
sents Mbadiwe (1915–1990), Abosi represents Ojukwu (1933–2011),
Momoh represents Gowon (1934 – ), Onyemere represents Ironsi
(1924–1966), Nwokolo represents Nzeogwu (1937–1967), and
Nguru Kano represents Abubakar Tafawa Balewa (1912–1966). The
British are presented in the same way: Sir James Wilson Robertson
(1899–1983) who served as Governor-General from 1955 to 1960
is MacDonald in the novel, and Alan Grey is John, the son of Sir John
Stuart MacPherson (1898–1971) who served as Governor-General
from 1948 to 1955.
In addition, the resemblance between the real players and their
fictitious counterparts, both in their physical and moral traits and in
their mannerisms and actions, is striking: Momoh and Gowon are both
28
Ibid., 216 and quote on 223. For more details on these events, see Emma Okocha, Blood
on the Niger: The First Black on Black Genocide. The Untold Story of the Asaba Massacre during
the Nigerian Civil War (New York: Triatlantic, 2004 [1994]).
29
Nwachukwu-Agbada, ‘Buchi Emecheta’, 388.
30
Pape, ‘Nigerian War Literature by Women’, 68.
31
Akingbe, ‘Creating the Past’, 47.
32
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 109.
from minorities and from the same region – the current Plateau State
– although the first is Tiv and the other Ngas (another minority). Ozim-
ba’s nickname, ‘Zim’, is almost identical to the ‘Zik’ of Azikiwe; both
wear the same ‘famous smile and gold-rimmed spectacles’ and defect to
the federal side halfway through the war.33 Several authors have high-
lighted this fictionalization of the Nigerian political class of the time,
thereby offering a reading guide to the novel.34 Emecheta did not even
bother to change the names of the then-political parties: the Yoruba-led
Action Group, the Igbo-led NCNC, the Hausa-led NNP, and the NPC.
The novel, at least in its first part, foregrounds the viewpoints of poli-
ticians and the army, highlighting their responsibility in the events – a
choice that probably explains why Emecheta’s novel failed to capture
the public’s imagination. Her diary of events seems to be read from
the barracks, with unguarded sideline comments revealing fractures
within the military beyond the ethnic divide. These include the com-
petition between the poor, desperate to make it through the ranks, and
the Sandhurst-educated elite. The fracture between these two classes
is illustrated by the different opposing Momoh, ‘this man from the Tiv
tribe’ and Abosi, suspected of ‘regard[ing] soldiering as a rich man’s
sport’.35 Emecheta adds to these the slow rise of ambitious females such
as Debbie, Emecheta’s mouthpiece, which forces a change into that
‘masculine preserve’.36
We follow negotiations and verbal agreements ‘for the butchery of
Ibos to stop, for the Hausa soldiers to go back to their barracks and for
the East to be granted autonomy within the federation’.37 We witness
the Aburi meeting, the hopes it raised, and the subsequent British pres-
sure on Momoh, ‘uncertain what the word [autonomy] actually meant’
33
Ibid., 42. Sir Ahmadu Bello was the first premier of the Northern Nigeria region from
1954–1966. Obafemi Awolowo was the first Premier of the Western Region from
1952–1959. Ladoke Akintola was the deputy leader of the Western-led Action Group
Party under Awolowo. Festus Okotie-Eboh was a prominent Nigerian politician and for-
mer minister for finance during the administration of Abubakar Tafawa Balewa. Born to
Urhobo parents from Uwherun, he adopted the Itsekiri as his tribe after marriage into a
prominent Itsekiri family. He was assassinated along with Prime Minister Tafawa Bale-
wa in the January 15, 1966, military coup. K.O. Mbadiwe was a government minister in
the 1950s. Adekunle Fajuyi was the first Governor of the then-Western Region from Jan-
uary to July 1966. Nnamdi Azikiwe was Governor-General of Nigeria from 1960–1963
and the first Nigerian President from 1963–1966. Odumegwu Ojukwu was military gov-
ernor of the Eastern Region in 1966 and the Biafran leader from 1967–1970. Yakubu
Gowon was Head of State of Nigeria from 1966–1975. Aguiyi Ironsi was Head of State
from January to July 1966. Chukwuma Kaduna Nzeogwu was born in Northern Nigeria
from Western Igbo parents from Okpanam in the Midwest, now Delta State. He led the
January 1966 failed coup; he was later killed in action in the first days of the Biafran war.
Tafawa Balewa was Nigeria’s only Prime Minister; he served from 1960–1966.
34
Nwachukwu-Agbada, ‘Buchi Emecheta’, 388–390; Adams, ‘It’s a Woman’s War’, 288;
Hodges, ‘Writing Biafra’, 4; and Akingbe, ‘Creating the Past’, 46.
35
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 54.
36
Quote, ibid., 57. Also see Akingbe, ‘Creating the Past’, 43.
37
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 100.
38
Ibid., 103.
39
Morrison, ‘Imagined Biafras’, 15.
40
Sumalatha, ‘Privileging Politics,, 427.
41
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 113. Also see Akingbe, ‘Creating the Past’, 38 and Mor-
rison, ‘Imagined Biafras’, 14.
42
Nwachukwu-Agbada, ‘Buchi Emecheta’, 389.
43
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 15.
44
Ibid., 3 and 6. Alan later moans that Abosi ‘has now collected “friends” from France, Ire-
land and Eastern Europe who would jump on the bandwagon of drilling oil from the East’
(ibid., 115).
45
Ibid., 115. Emecheta also writes, ‘Momoh signed away the greatest percentage of the oil
wells to some Western powers, on condition that they settled the Biafran question quick-
ly’ (154).
46
Ibid., 156.
47
Ibid., 201.
48
According to these documents in Morrison, ‘Imagined Biafras’, the ‘present British policy
seems to be to provide conventional weapons and ammunition to Nigeria (on a rather
more lavish scale than we would probably be keen to admit in public) in the knowledge
that while this is not doing very much towards bringing the war to an end, Nigeria could
almost certainly buy the stuff somewhere else if we didn’t provide it and by letting her
have it we retain a certain degree of influence in Lagos and the possibility of emerging
with good relations when Nigeria ultimately wins, thereby ensuring access to the oil re-
serves of Eastern Nigeria’ (16).
49
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 30.
50
Ibid., 199.
51
Although Pape, in ‘Nigerian War Literature by Women’ (62), considers Emecheta’s use
of the words ‘some non-Igbos’ as evidence that she positions herself as an Igbo, it might
just be part of the novelist’s distinction between the Biafrans and the rest, given the focus
of her novel. Emecheta’s adopting the Biafrans’ report on the number of casualties in
the massacres – ‘30,000’ (9) has also been counted against her – a sign of the degree of
politicization of the war statistics, though confirmed by a number of publications since.
52
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 55.
53
Ibid., 60–61. The coup plotters arranged for the Yoruba to kill the Igbo politicians, the
Igbo the Yoruba and for Nwokolo, a Midwestern man, to kill the Sardauna, but Igbo lead-
ers manage to escape their fate. Ozimba in particular had gone to Britain for health rea-
sons (64).
54
Ibid., 68.
55
Ibid., 81–83.
56
Ibid., 83.
57
Ibid., 99.
58
Ibid., 182.
59
Ibid.
60
Ibid., 69 and quote 72.
61
Ibid., 91
62
Ibid., 83.
63
Ibid., 185.
64
Ibid.
at the airport on their way to the East. Then the witch-hunt began … How
can politicians be preaching ‘one Nigeria’ when a tribe of people is being
massacred?65
The episode of trains bringing maimed Igbos back to the East is directly
inspired by widely disseminated press articles at the height of the war
that gave eye-witness accounts of the events that took place in Kano on
October 14, 1966. Part of Emecheta’s recounting of these events reads
thus:
The passengers on the platform were still alive – just – but the killers had
made sure that those Ibos who went back home would always remember
their stay in the North. Nearly all the women were without one breast. The
very old ones had only one eye each. Some of the men had been castrated,
some had only one arm, others had one foot amputated. All were in a
shocked daze.66
This terrible evocation winds down with the words of one of the sur-
vivors: ‘tell Abosi to forget talk of “one Nigeria”’, and closes on Eme-
cheta’s cold summary: ‘it was said that over thirty thousand Ibos died
in that first part of the troubles’.67
65
Ibid., 88.
66
Ibid., 89–90. See Françoise Ugochukwu, Torn Apart: The Nigerian Civil War and Its Impact
(London: Adonis & Abbey, 2010), 61, n79. This particular event was later used by Chim-
amanda Ngozi Adichie in her novel Half of a Yellow Sun (London: Fourth Estate, 2006).
67
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 91.
68
Marie Umeh, Emerging Perspectives on Buchi Emecheta (Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press,
1996), 215.
69
Pape, ‘Nigerian War Literature by Women’, 150.
submitting words for their new national anthem … Patriotic zeal among
Ibos was twenty times more than that of the rest of Nigeria … What was
her position in all this mess? She was neither Ibo nor Yoruba, nor was she a
Hausa, but a Nigerian.70
She wonders: ‘doesn’t Abosi want a united Nigeria? He can’t cut the East
away from the federation.’71 At that point, there is a hint that she may
be used as a peace emissary because of her status as ‘neither Igbo nor
Yoruba’ and ‘because she personally believed that keeping the country
together was a good thing’.72
She embarks on her diplomatic journey to the East as a peace nego-
tiator sent by Momoh ‘to go and convince Abosi that a united Nigeria
was the thing to be fought for’.73 She passes through a disputed terri-
tory in the process. Debbie’s journey has been likened to a camera that
allows the reader to see everything and meet everybody, ‘including the
leaders of both of the warring sides’.74 At that point, the focus of the
novel shifts from the political and diplomatic scene to the gory reality.
On her way, she hears that Biafrans have taken Benin City and are now
moving towards Ore. The car in which she travels is later ambushed
by federal troops, who kill its Igbo occupants. The graphic description
of the brutal murder of the pregnant Igbo women and their children,
the soldiers’ attack and rape prove Debbie wrong.75 There is no ‘Nige-
ria’ and people are still tribal. Subjected to violence at the hands of the
Nigerians, ‘the very people she was trying to help’,76 and disillusioned
by the corruption, greed, selfishness, and inefficiency she discovers in
the ranks, Debbie’s confidence gradually erodes.
While the situation on the ground leads Emecheta to justify the Bia-
fran leader’s secessionist attempt, ‘Abosi is berated for insisting on facing
the enemy on the battlefield when he had little or no arms, when he had
no outlet to any ocean corridor’.77 Debbie blames the Biafran leader for
his resolution ‘to fight to the last’, thinking that he can still win, and
accuses him of ‘living in a dream world’.78 The religious argument he
puts forward is equally attacked as a bad move
because Britain is a protestant country. Most of the Irish are Catholics. I
understand that the nuns managing the Ibo hospitals and many of the
priests still running their schools are Irish. Britain would be blind not to see
70
Ibid., 126.
71
Ibid., 93.
72
Ibid., 123.
73
Ibid., 123.
74
Morrison, ‘Imagined Biafras’, 15.
75
Ibid., 130–136.
76
Ibid., 157.
77
Nwachukwu-Agbada, ‘Buchi Emecheta’, 390.
78
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 245.
that if they backed Abosi there would be no reason for them not to look
sympathetically on their own Irish problem.79
The novel blames Abosi for rejecting Debbie’s plea for peace, for ‘having
led Igbos into this “holocaust”’, and for eventually leaving Biafra as the
Nigerian army closes in.80 Debbie’s position is strengthened by Ozimba’s,
the only other Nigerian whose national stature ‘cut across tribes’.81
Faced with mounting casualties, he shares his doubts on the viability of
Biafra: ‘had they been right to secede? … Should he advise Abosi to cut
his losses and give in now that the tide was turning?’82 Ozimba’s attempt
to initiate a reflection on the war will lead to his being reprimanded for
having been ‘busy dreaming about [his] Pan-Africanism’.83 He would
later swap sides and start advocating for ‘one Nigeria’.84
Meanwhile, both on the front and in the bush, orders were now shouted
in a language they knew was Nigerian, for they had heard it spoken so
many times before, either softly to welcome them or musically to wish them
good speed, but now it sounded more foreign still, for they had never heard
it spoken in this brutal guttural way. The Ibo language had become a lan-
guage of war.85
This change signals a gradual loss of identity and questions the pur-
pose of pursuing the warpath. It is interesting, in this regard, to note
Debbie’s embarrassment when confronted about her Oxfordian accent
and to discover her subsequent choice of Pidgin English, a supra-ethnic
Nigerian language facilitating communication across ethnic barriers.86
She displays a ‘great resourcefulness abroad as the propaganda officer
for Abosi and Biafra’.87 However, confronted with the people’s suffering,
she later asks herself whether her traveling between enemy lines had
been worth it and whether there was ‘really any point in her mission?
Or should she have stayed in Lagos and watch the stronger party win, if
at the end of the day, the result was going to be the same?’88
79
Ibid., 147.
80
Ibid., 239 and quote on 252–254.
81
Ibid., 37. Azikiwe, born of Igbo parents in the north, later schooled in Calabar and Lagos
before moving to the United States for further studies.
82
Ibid., 183.
83
Ibid., 182.
84
Ibid., 235.
85
Ibid., 138.
86
Ibid., 231.
87
Sumalatha, ‘Privileging Politics’, 429.
88
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 165.
‘Nigeria was plunged into the bloodiest carnage ever seen in the whole
of Africa. And the greater part of the blood that flowed was Ibo blood.’89
The novel presents a group of refugees from the North flocking to Abosi’s
house, telling their stories, such that ‘the anger of those listening was
stirred to fever point’ with many urging Abosi ‘not to bother to wait for
Aburi but to declare war immediately’.90 Abosi’s reaction to the massa-
cre of easterners highlights the crucial importance of the ethnic factor
in the decision-making process – a viewpoint explained by Emecheta’s
personal and family background. Pressed hard by Igbo victims’ pleas,
Abosi reminds them that ‘this misunderstanding is not just between the
Ibos and the rest of Nigeria but between Ibos from the West … Ibos from
the East and the minority tribes in the East, against the rest of Nigeria.
So before I make any move, all these people must be fully consulted’.91
The dividing of the federation into 12 states later effectively dismantles
the former Eastern Region:
Not only that, [Momoh] made sure that through the way it was divided,
the richest oil wells in the East fall into the hands of the non-Igbo speaking
people. In other words, he declared war against Abosi and his people. … How
long [would] the non-Ibo speaking peoples of the East rally round Abosi,
knowing that they can have their own state and that the richest oil wells lie
in their villages? The seeds of doubt have already been sown.92
Momoh himself expresses the view that ‘the minority peoples in the
East have to be protected, you know. You do realize that there are many
groups who are not Ibos living in the East too? We seldom hear about
them, because Abosi and his Ibos are busy shouting as if they own the
whole world.’93
The issue of ethnic minorities was a sensitive issue, but Emecheta’s
novel seems to give the impression that neither Momoh nor Abosi
really cared about them. In any case, the concentration of early federal
attacks on Biafra’s northern and southern borders soon led to a rapid
change in Biafra’s ethnic identity, with the peripheral, non-Igbo areas
of the former eastern State being taken back into the Nigerian federa-
tion. In the early months of 1968, when international media coverage
of the war really took off, the war had practically become an Igbo war
89
Ibid., 78.
90
Ibid., 96–97.
91
Ibid., 97.
92
Ibid., 120. Records from the Foreign and Commonwealth Office prove the British support
for Shell-BP’s huge expansion plans in the Nigerian Midwest, in Morrison, ‘Imagined Bia-
fras’, 16–17.
93
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 124. See Osaghae, Crippled Giant, 63–64: ‘although seces-
sion was proposed in the name of the Eastern Region, it was primarily an Igbo affair.
Minorities had also tended to suffer the same fate as the Igbos in the northern massacres
and some of their leaders supported secession, but the fear of Igbo domination and the
desire to be free from Igbo control influenced their half-hearted and reluctant involve-
ment in the war.’
and was therefore rightly presented as such.94 Later in the novel, the
author foregrounds the Igbos’ heavy contribution not only to the mas-
sacres but also to the war casualties. In the Mid-West alone, ‘over 2,000
Ibo men died along the Benin-Asaba road on “Operation Mosquito”.
But, as they say, that was war.’95 The huge number of Igbo casualties
and the absence of details about the non-Igbo dead and wounded – a
direct consequence of their being reclaimed by the federal State – may
explain Emecheta’s silence on the minorities’ contribution to the war.
She aptly summarizes this herself: ‘How many Ibos were killed yester-
day? How many Nigerians? As far as [Debbie] was concerned, they were
all Nigerians.’96
For Pape, the novel ‘expresses the perspective of “being between the
fronts” through a noticeable dissociation both from the Igbo East of the
River Niger and from the Nigerians’.97 This point is illustrated by Deb-
bie’s mission: ‘Momoh would wait for news of Debbie. If she gave any
indication that Abosi was unwilling to budge, then he would send a con-
quering army into the Ibo heartland.’98 A whole paragraph is devoted to
Western Igbos and their difficult relationship with Eastern/core Igbos.99
It is a subject that Emecheta, from Ibusa, knows well. ‘Someone raised
the problem of the Western Ibos … but it was agreed that it was not yet
an important issue. These could even be given the choice of joining the
Eastern Ibos or following the rest of the country.’100
Narrated through the eyes of Debbie, the Mid-Western girl, the fate
of Western Igbos looms large in the novel. Their leaders, Ugoji and
Nwokolo, are presented as scapegoats sacrificed to appease Igbo lead-
ers’ anger after the botched Biafran military sortie and capture of Benin
and Ore.101 Ugoji, a military officer from the Mid-West, had expressed
fears that if the federal soldiers retake Ore and Benin, Mid-Western
Igbos may be at risk: ‘we should have left a standing army, we should
have our men guarding our towns, our wives and children, our young
girls and old mothers’.102 Abosi was made aware of the risk for the Mid-
Westerners to be slaughtered if the attack was not going to plan, but he
refused to rescue them. Nwokolo, ‘the conqueror of the Hausas in the
north, the leader of the great Ore mission’, is later thrown into jail and
94
Comments by Western critics do not, unfortunately, take the shrinking Biafran landscape
and the geographical modifications to its territory into account when blaming the pres-
entation of the war as an all-Igbo war. It must be noted, in addition, that many of these
criticisms fail to recognize Nigeria’s complex reality. This has led to some irrelevant and
erroneous assessments concerning the war and the way it is rendered in literature.
95
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 177.
96
Ibid., 195.
97
Pape, ‘Nigerian War Literature by Women’, 56.
98
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 149.
99
Ibid., 55.
100
Ibid., 99.
101
Ibid., 184.
102
Ibid., 145.
executed.103 What he did not know was that Abosi decided that those
responsible for the Ore retreat must be punished, saying that ‘these so-
called Mid-Westerners have … no loyalty at all’.104
These feelings explain the Western Igbo reaction to the visiting Bia-
fran squad sent to the Mid-West to find out about the situation. They
meet women in the bush and discover the Mid-Westerners’ hatred:
‘Biafra, Biafra, what is Biafra? You killed our man from this part, Nwok-
olo; the Nigerian soldiers came and killed what your soldiers left. We
are Ibuza people but we now live in the bush, thanks to your Abosi and
your Biafra.’105 For Nwachukwu-Agbada, Emecheta ‘used her privi-
leged position as a writer … to draw attention to the plight of her people
during a senseless war. The truth anyway is that it was not her own
group alone which faced the scourge of Biafra or Nigerian soldiers once
any of the sides was losing ground.’106 He goes on to remind his readers
about the very mobile front:
the truth is that the civil war on the Biafran side was fought on continu-
ously shifting grounds. The loss of land occupied by Biafrans meant that
on each occasion they were more concerned with protecting areas yet to be
attacked. Once any part of it was captured by the federal forces, the Biafran
soldiers retreated and got fortified in areas nearest to such a part.107
Emecheta’s foreword, aimed first and foremost at her Nigerian
readership, discloses her sources of information as well as her political
position which, as she openly admits, is biased: ‘I have tried very hard
not to be bitter, and to be impartial – especially as I hail from Ibuza …
where the worst atrocities of the war took place, which is never given
any prominence.’108 These words tell of her identification with her place
of origin and the way its inhabitants suffered during the war alongside
with others from the West of the River Niger, thereby opposing the
Igbo’s claim to be the war’s sole victims. The injustice meted out above
all on her hometown is one of the reasons why the book, for her, ‘is one
that simply had to be written’.109 Another reason – as is hinted at in her
preface – seems to be that Emecheta suffered a kind of survivor’s guilt
because she was not in Nigeria during the war and could only protest
against it as a student on London’s Trafalgar Square. For Nwachukwu-
Agbada, although Emecheta’s interpretation of the Nigerian political
crisis
103
Ibid., 102
104
Ibid., 178.
105
Ibid., 231.
106
Nwachukwu-Agbada, ‘Buchi Emecheta’, 390–391.
107
Ibid., 391
108
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, vii.
109
Ibid.
may lack the class perspective, the major issues raised by her historicism
remain accurate. She has no overt philosophical statement about the war,
but invariably she fires our imagination to enquire why … the Eastern and
Western Igbo could so easily suspect each other.110
It seems that, until the very end, Emecheta shared her protagonist’s
belief in the national unity of the federation.
110
Nwachukwu-Agbada, ‘Buchi Emecheta’, 394.
111
Morrison, ‘Imagined Biafras’, 7–11.
112
Ibid., 7.
113
Ibid., 10.
114
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 60.
115
Akingbe, ‘Creating the Past’, 32.
116
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 128.
117
Pape, ‘Nigerian War Literature by Women’, 83.
118
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, first quote 128, second quote 60.
119
Morrison, ‘Imagined Biafras’, 17.
120
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 213.
121
Morrison, ‘Imagined Biafras’, 19.
122
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 133–134 and 174–176.
123
Cited in Pape, ‘Nigerian War Literature by Women’, 27.
124
In real life, Ojukwu divorced his first wife, Elizabeth Okoli, because she did not give him
any child.
125
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 188.
126
Ibid., 212.
Conclusion
Interviewed in 1994, Emecheta explained that she saw herself as a sto-
ryteller with no other mission than ‘telling stories … to tell the world
our part of the story while using the voices of women’.127 Yet, a detailed
analysis of her novel reveals that she definitely went far beyond, adding
to the growing body of historical writing from Africa and enriching it
with a fictional unique viewpoint. It has been argued that her novel
was not only describing ‘the current state of a nation, plagued by politi-
cized ethnicity, but also the feasibility of overcoming this state’.128 As
a diasporic Nigerian, all Emecheta could do was to stage a protest, and
her novel has been seen as ‘a work expressing indignation and bitter-
ness at both the causes of the civil war and the affliction and undue
punishment brought upon a good number of ordinary Nigerians and
Biafrans’.129 One of the lessons of the novel, and of the fast growing
literature on the Biafran War, is that ‘a nation that fails to remember
what it should remember or forget what it should forget is in danger of
reliving its nightmares all over again’.130
127
Oladipo Joseph Ogundele, ‘A Conversation with Buchi Emecheta, July 22, 1994’, in
Emerging Perspectives on Buchi Emecheta, edited by Umeh Marie (Trenton, Africa World
Press, 1996), 449.
128
Pape, ‘Nigerian War Literature by Women’, 92.
129
Porter, ‘They Were There, Too’, 326.
130
Akingbe, ‘Creating the Past’, 42.
Hugh Hodges
‘That no one is any longer made accountable … that the kind of being mani-
fested cannot be traced back to a causa prima … thus alone is the innocence of
becoming restored.’
Friedrich Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols, 54 (original emphasis)
1
Chris Abani, GraceLand: A Novel (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004), 147.
2
Ibid., 190.
380
3
See Amanda Aycock, ‘Becoming Black and Elvis: Transnational and Performative Iden-
tity in the Novels of Chris Abani’, Safundi: The Journal of South African and American Studies
10:1 (January 2009), 11–25; Sita Maria Kattanek, ‘The Nigerian Coming-of-Age Novel
as a Globalization Device: A Reading of Chris Abani’s GraceLand’, Rupkatha 3:3 (2011),
426–433; and Madelaine Hron, ‘“Ora na-azu nwa”: The Figure of the Child in Third-
Generation Nigerian Novels’, Research in African Literatures 39:2 (Summer 2008), 27–48.
4
See Rita Nnodim, ‘City, Identity, and Dystopia: Writing Lagos in Contemporary Nigerian
Novels’, Journal of Postcolonial Writing 44:4 (2008), 321–332; Chris Dunton, ‘Entropy
and Energy: Lagos as City of Words’, Research in African Literatures 39:2 (Summer 2008),
68–78; Ashley Dawson, ‘Surplus City: Structural Adjustment , Self-Fashioning, and Ur-
ban Insurrection in Chris Abani’s GraceLand’, Interventions 11:1 (2009), 16–34; Sarah
K. Harrison, ‘“Suspended City”: Personal, Urban, and National Development in Chris
Abani’s GraceLand’, Research in African Literatures 43:2 (Summer 2012), 95–114; and
Matthew Omelsky, ‘Chris Abani and the Politics of Ambivalence’, Research in African Lit-
eratures 42:4 (Winter 2011), 84–96.
5
Dawson, ‘Surplus City’, 19–20.
6
Ibid., 20.
7
Omelsky, ‘Chris Abani and the Politics of Ambivalence’, 90.
the ways in which the Nigerian sovereign has historically coerced and estab-
lished control of the populace through a political culture of violence and
intimidation.8
Omelsky does not explore these memories of the war. In fact, none
of the published criticism of GraceLand seems to do so, but these memo-
ries define Abani’s fictionalized Nigeria and those who inhabit it. Elvis
was born with Biafra; his mother’s cancer emerged with its defeat; the
war created both the Colonel and the King of Beggars, the two poles of
Elvis’s existence; more important, it was the historical moment at which
‘the Mbembean vulgarity of power’, to borrow Rita Nnodim’s phrase,
first announced itself in the Nigerian context.9 When Nnodim uses the
phrase ‘vulgarity of power’, she is referring to Achille Mbembe’s iden-
tification of ‘the grotesque and the obscene’ character of postcolonial
power.10 Nnodim is also concerned mainly with this power’s hold on
GraceLand’s Lagos, but her reference to Mbembe can be expanded to
include his discussion of ‘necropower’, that is, power under conditions
where ‘the state of exception and the relation of enmity have become
the normative basis of the right to kill’.11 Under these conditions, ‘sov-
ereignty means the capacity to determine who matters and who does
not, who is disposable and who is not’.12 The power that grips Grace-
Land’s Lagos clearly has this character too. In Abani’s mega-city, there
is a purely necropolitical relation between a sovereign military and the
‘bloody civilians’ who are treated as ‘disposable subjects’.13 This state of
8
Ibid., 85–86.
9
Nnodim, ‘City, Identity, and Dystopia’, 322.
10
Achille Mbembe, ‘Provisional Notes on the Postcolony’, Africa: Journal of the International
African Institute 62:1 (1992), 4.
11
Achille Mbembe, ‘Necropolitics’, Translated by Libby Meintjes, Public Culture 15:1
(2003), 16. I understand the phrase here and throughout in the sense developed by Gior-
gio Agamben, following Carl Schmitt. Agamben argues ‘on the one hand … the exten-
sion of the military authority’s wartime powers into the civil sphere, and on the other a
suspension of the constitution’, or of those constitutional norms that protect individual
liberties; see Giorgio Agamben, State of Exception, Translated by Kevin Attell (Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 2005), 5.
12
Mbembe, ‘Necropolitics’, 27.
13
Abani, GraceLand, 288. I borrow the paradoxical turn-of-phrase ‘disposable subjects’
from Nouri Gana and Heike Härting, who argue that necropower, if it can be said to
produce subjects at all, produces only dehumanized ‘disposable people’ while itself defy-
ing ‘transcendence or convertibility’ (see Nouri Gana and Heike Härting, Narrative Vio-
lence: Africa and the Middle East (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2008), 1). In the
Nigerian context, O.B. Lawuyi writes: ‘They [successive military regimes] militarized the
space with commands, generating incessant chaos and promoting expedient decisions,
a murder instinct, a tactical withdrawal consciousness, and the shelling and ambush of
selected, targeted civilians. Uncertainty rules. They have simply depersonalized the civil
person into a state of confusion, identity crises, begging, and opportunism’ (O.B. Lawuyi,
‘Understanding the Nigerian State: Popular Culture and the Struggle for Meaning’, in
The Transformation of Nigeria: Essays in Honor of Toyin Falola, edited by Adebayo Oyebade
(Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 2002), 514.
14
Chris Dunton, ‘Entropy and Energy’, 72.
15
Ibid., 73.
16
Abani, GraceLand, 321.
17
Karen L. Carr, The Banalization of Nihilism (New York: SUNY Press, 1992); and Ted Sadler,
Nietzsche: Truth and Redemption (London: Athlone, 1995).
18
Abani, GraceLand, 321.
19
Carr, The Banalization of Nihilism, 4.
20
Ibid., 19
21
Ibid., 48.
22
Ibid., 2.
23
Ibid., 37–38.
24
Christopher Gray, Leaving the 20th Century: The Incomplete Work of the Situationist Interna-
tional (London: Rebel Press, 1998), 103.
25
Gray, Leaving the 20th Century, 103.
26
Sadler, Nietzsche, 7.
Not coincidentally, it is also this creative act of the will, this inno-
cent becoming (innocent because not accountable to God, or the Past,
or some other causa prima), this redemptive life intoxication, that Wole
Soyinka famously associates with Ogun in his discussion of Yoruba
tragedy:
Yoruba tragedy plunges straight into the ‘chthonic realm,’ the seething
cauldron of the dark world will and psyche, the transitional yet inchoate
matrix of death and becoming. Into this universal womb once plunged and
emerged Ogun, the first actor, disintegrating within the abyss … Within the
mystic summons of the chasm the protagonist actor … resists, like Ogun
before him, the final step towards complete annihilation.32
For Soyinka, Ogun, destroyer/creator god of the forge and the road,
is the figure who by reconciling death and becoming redeems a frag-
mented humanity and restores the primal unity of existence. Facing his
own will’s dissolution, he asserts: ‘Thus do I will it’, and in so doing
reassembles himself. I introduce Soyinka here first because he is an
influencing presence in the novel: there are several explicit references
to the man and his work in GraceLand that encourage intertextual read-
ing, and that intertextual reading, particularly of Soyinka’s discussion
of Ogun, suggests a way of understanding the lack of redemption in
GraceLand.
32
Soyinka quoted in Biodun Jeyifo, ‘Wole Soyinka and Tropes of Disalienation’, in Jeyifo,
ed., Perspectives on Wole Soyinka: Freedom and Complexity (Jackson: University of Missis-
sippi Press, 2001), 142–143.
33
Wole Soyinka, ‘The Fourth Stage: Through the Mysteries of Ogun to the Origin of Yoruba
Tragedy’, in The Morality of Art: Essays Presented to G. Wilson Knight by his Colleagues and
Friends, edited by Douglas William Jefferson (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1973),
119–134; and his Myth, Literature, and the African World (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press, 1990), 145.
34
Ibid., 30.
35
Ibid.
36
Symptomatically, when Soyinka accepted the job of creating a ‘Road Safety Corps’ in the
1980s, he did so in the belief that it might ‘stem the notorious hemorrhage on Nigerian
roads’ – Soyinka, You Must Set Forth at Dawn (New York: Random House, 2006), 182; the
job must have appealed to him as an opportunity to align his creative energies with those
of Ogun, but the only obvious effect was to attract accusations that he had ‘sold out’ to
the military government (182).
37
Obotunde Ijimere, quoted in Soyinka, Myth, Literature, and the African World, 20.
38
Agamben, State of Exception, 62.
39
Soyinka, Myth, Literature, and the African World, 29.
40
Agamben, State of Exception, 89.
41
Soyinka, Myth, Literature, and the African World, 29.
However, the mask is only ever a mask and when that mask is
removed, the violence it releases knows no bounds.42 As Soyinka tells
the myth, Ogun always led his men to victory in battle, but the cost
could be terrible. The first time Ogun entered battle drunk, he ‘turned
on his men and slaughtered them’.43 Ogun, who Soyinka says ‘stands
for a transcendental, humane, but rigidly restorative justice’, becomes
here the figure of pure violence, the suspension of justice, and the inau-
guration of a state of exception.44
It is this face of Ogun that Nigeria saw altogether too frequently from
the late 1960s onward. Under successive military governments, Ogun
seemed to be permanently drunk. Even for Soyinka, faced with the failure
of the Road Safety Corps, this created a sense of sacrificial crisis.45 In You
Must Set Forth at Dawn he recalls that in the early 1960s, like ‘the many
faces of Ogun … the road was a violent host’, and even fatal accident
scenes ‘had a solemnity about them, a graceful pronouncement of leave-
taking where the precedent violence is gently absorbed’.46 Like Ogun after
his annihilating passage through chaos, the survivors of these accidents
experienced a form of tranquility, the catharsis of sacrifice. However,
Soyinka laments: ‘In the road’s later decay … is recorded a nation’s retreat
42
I am drawing here on Deborah Root’s observation that ‘political authority is always
underlain by chaos and death’ – Root, Cannibal Culture: Art, Appropriation, and the Com-
modification of Difference (Boulder, CO and Oxford: Westview, 1996), 5. The context of
Root’s observation is her discussion of the Aztec myth of Quetzalcoātl and his brother
Tezcatlipoca. The former’s peaceful rule is sustained by the mystification of sovereign vio-
lence; his appearance as the ‘priestly ideal … occlude[s] his despotic function or, rather
purifie[s] and render[s] benign the idea of the despot or supreme lord’, much as the con-
ceit of the good shepherd does. The reign of this good shepherd ends, however, and his
kingdom falls when Tezcatlipoca shows Quetzalcoātl his reflection in a mirror, ‘revealing
the despot to be not the benign face of Quetzalcoātl, but the fearsome face of the enemy
on both sides’. Tezcatlipoca, demystifying his brother’s authority, reveals ‘that the state
operates and maintains its authority through violence and terror’ (5). This precipitates
what René Girard, in Violence and the Sacred, translated by Patrick Gregory (Baltimore:
Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977), calls a ‘sacrificial crisis’, a state in which previ-
ously legitimate violence can no longer perform its cathartic, governing function: ‘De-
mystification leads to constantly increasing violence, a violence perhaps less hypocritical
than the violence it seeks to expose, but more energetic, more violent, and the harbinger
of something worse – a violence that knows no bounds’ (Girard, 24–25). This ‘violence
that knows no bounds’, and which announces that ‘there are no longer any terms by
which to define the legitimate form of violence and to recognize it among the multitude
of illicit forms’ (24), is precisely what the rule of Ogun always threatens.
43
Soyinka, Myth, Literature, and the African World, 29.
44
Ibid., 26.
45
In Violence and the Sacred, René Girard uses the term ‘sacrificial crisis’ to identify a state
in which previously legitimate violence can no longer perform its cathartic, governing
function: ‘Demystification leads to constantly increasing violence, a violence perhaps less
hypocritical than the violence it seeks to expose, but more energetic, more violent, and
the harbinger of something worse – a violence that knows no bounds’ (24–25). This ‘vio-
lence that knows no bounds’ announces that ‘there are no longer any terms by which to
define the legitimate form of violence and to recognize it among the multitude of illicit
forms’ (24).
46
Soyinka, You Must Set Forth at Dawn, first quote 49 and second quote 50.
from humanism … I was fated to watch the nation turn both carrion and
scavenger as it killed and consumed its kind, the road remaining an oblig-
ing stream in which a nation’s fall from grace was duly reflected.’47 The
slaughter is no longer analogous to ritual sacrifice, no longer suggestive
of an ordered, balanced cosmos. The season of anomie, to borrow the
title of one of Soyinka’s novels, is infinitely extended. Over this anomie
Ogun presides, not as the embodiment of law-making violence, but as
the figure of a violence that leads to nihilism.
47
Ibid., 51.
48
Abani, GraceLand, 4.
49
Ibid., 22.
50
Ibid., 320.
51
Ibid., 44.
52
Ibid.
53
Ibid.
54
Ibid., 58.
55
Ibid., 121.
56
Ibid., 306.
57
I borrow the term from Giorgio Agamben’s study of the figure in Roman law, homo sacer,
the non-person excepted from the protection of the law who can be killed without sanc-
tion (Agamben, Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life, translated by Daniel Heller-
Roazen (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1998, 82–83).
58
Psalms 23:1–6 KJV.
59
Abani, GraceLand, 162–163.
60
Ibid., 180.
61
Ibid., 167.
62
Job 9:22 KJV.
63
Abani, GraceLand, 242–243.
64
Ibid., 243.
65
Ibid., 309.
66
Ibid., 312.
67
Ibid., 313.
68
See for example, Helon Habila, Waiting for an Angel (New York: W.W. Norton, 2004); Chi-
mamanda Ngozi Adichie, Purple Hibiscus: A Novel (Chapel Hill, NC: Algonquin, 2003);
and Adaobi Tricia Nwaubani, I Do Not Come to You by Chance (New York: Hyperion,
2009).
69
‘419’ refers to the section of the Nigerian penal code dealing with fraud. For an account
of how ‘419’ has become a general term for all form of corruption in Nigeria see Dan-
iel Smith, A Culture of Corruption: Everyday Deception and Popular Discontent in Nigeria
(Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2007), 166–190.
70
Ibid., 225.
‘Or is he a carpenter?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Which one?’
‘Either. I don’t know and I don’t care.’71
This is not simple indifference on Redemption’s part nor is it a Pilate-
like refusal to judge; this is an assertion that it genuinely doesn’t matter
whether Jeremiah is a thief or not. His exclusion (and execution) is
entirely random and could be visited at any time on any person. His
death, rather than signaling some kind of communal salvation (which
the allusion to the crucifixion might anticipate) is a sign of general
annihilation. Jeremiah is doused with gasoline and set on fire, but he
breaks from the ring of people surrounding him and stumbles into an
adjacent lumberyard:
Within minutes, the timber was ablaze and the workers formed a chain,
throwing buckets of water and sand on the fire, but it was too big. The mob
of lynchers had melted away, as had the police.
‘We should help,’ Elvis said, not getting up.
‘What good is dat?’
‘The fire will spread.’72
All will be burned, all abandoned, the Christian promise of salvation
exchanged, as Jeremiah’s name anticipates, for an Old Testament
prophecy of destruction. The final, ironic comment on this series of
failed saviors is inscribed on a scrap of paper Elvis finds in the ruins of
his home after Maroko is destroyed (presumably all that remains of the
poster that was on his wall): Jesus Can Save. In GraceLand, he cannot.
Nowhere in the novel is the closure of this path to redemption more
clearly dramatized than in the recollections of Elvis’s cousin Innocent.
The episode in which Innocent remembers his experiences during the
Biafra War is notable for two reasons: it is one of only a handful of epi-
sodes in the novel in which Elvis is not the focalizer (all of which involve
necropolitical violence), and it is one of only two episodes that recall
events that predate Elvis’s narrative (both of which concern massacres
committed during the Biafra War).
The other episode involves the King and the Colonel; between them
these two episodes function as a sort of origin myth for Elvis’s Nigeria.
Innocent, we learn, was a child soldier and he is haunted by memories
of a Church that his platoon came upon towards the end of the war.
The priests and the congregation, refugees who had ‘converged on the
church … believing they would be safe … protected by God’s benevo-
lence’, had all been killed by the advancing federal troops.73 The only
survivors, two nuns, were subsequently raped and killed by Innocent’s
71
Ibid.
72
Ibid., 228.
73
Ibid., 211,
captain. Innocent observes that the combatants on both sides were ‘all
infected by the insanity of blood fever’, and concludes: ‘There is only
one God in war: the gun. One religion: genocide.’74
74
Ibid.
75
See, for example, Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri, Multitude: War and Democracy in the
Age of Empire (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 2005); Heike Harting ‘Global Civil War and
Postcolonial Studies’, Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East 8:1
(2008), 1–10; Arjun Appadurai, Fear of Small Numbers: An Essay on the Geography of
Anger (Durham, NC: Duke University, 2006).
76
Achille Mbembe, On the Postcolony (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001), 13.
77
Mbembe, ‘Necropolitics’, 11.
78
Ibid., 2.
79
Ibid., 56–57.
80
Girard, Violence and the Sacred, 133.
81
Agamben, Homo Sacer, 111.
82
Ibid., 105.
83
Ibid., 57.
84
Ibid., 306.
85
Ibid., 303.
86
Ibid., 302–303.
87
Ibid., 205.
88
Ibid., 155.
89
Ibid.
90
Ibid.,
Conclusion: No Redemption
Chris Abani began his 2008 Technology, Entertainment, Design
(TED) Talk with this observation: ‘My search is always to find ways to
chronicle, to share and to document stories about people, just everyday
91
Ibid., 156.
92
Ibid.
93
Ibid., 299.
94
Ibid., 163–164.
95
Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, 121.
96
Chris Abani, ‘On Humanity’, TED.com, www.ted.com/talks/chris_abani_muses_on_hu-
manity (accessed September 9, 2015).
97
Omelsky, ‘Chris Abani and the Politics of Ambivalence’, 93.
98
Abani, GraceLand, 6.
99
Ibid., 213.
100
Ibid., 280.
101
Ibid., 281.
102
Ibid., 319.
103
Ibid., 320.
104
Ibid., 321.
Egodi Uchendu
Introduction
The apt prediction made in March 1970 by A.H.M. Kirk-Greene was
amply demonstrated both during the Nigeria-Biafra War (Nigerian Civil
War) of July 1967 to January 1970 and in the four and a half decades
after the cessation of hostilities. Indeed, each year witnesses the pub-
lication of fresh accounts of the war. Interest in the subject appears
to have reached an all-time high in the last decade as the amount of
research by individuals and institutions on different aspects of the con-
flict has increased tremendously. Issues investigated range from the legal
implications of Biafra’s secession to the variegated nature of the Biafra
versus Nigeria conflict, and to the impact of the conflict on Igbo dias-
pora communities after the war. Scholars have extended the scope of
their investigations on the war to include the interconnections between
the Biafra dream for independence from Nigeria, which resulted in one
of the world’s bloodiest and most politicized twentieth century conflict,
and the aspirations of second – and third-generation Biafrans – children
or grandchildren of Biafrans born and raised decades after the conflict
in different parts of the globe.1 Kirk-Greene could not have imagined
the full range of the subjects and research themes that would flow from
this singular event.2
1
One example is Emmanuella Asabor, ‘Memory, Nationhood and Belonging in Biafran
Literary Heritage, 1966–2014’ (MPhil dissertation, University of Cambridge, 2014).
Her research focuses on the historical memory of the Nigerian Civil War and the Biafran
state.
2
He observes in his preface: ‘How the one time showpiece of decolonization in Africa, its
Government repeatedly hailed as the continent’s exemplar of democratic institutions
and its Prime Minister the paragon of unstampeded statesmanship, could manage to
403
Many of the issues that triggered the Nigerian Civil War lie in the
years preceding the actual fighting; some date as far back as the found-
ing of the country, notably the supposed racial incompatibility of the
North and South. In their analysis of the war, scholars have considered
the period of actual fighting – from July 6, 1967 to January 15, 1970 –
as well as a wide variety of happenings that occurred before the actual
fighting. The war was of such magnitude that all classes of Biafran soci-
ety felt the brunt of it, as did all gender groups within Biafra, irrespec-
tive of the age category.3
Biafra, previously Eastern Region of Nigeria, was populated by the
Igbo, Ijaw, Efik, Ibibio, Ekoi, and a few other smaller ethnic groups that
seceded from the Nigerian federation, but divested non-Igbo segments
just prior to the hostilities. It became the major theater of war, and it
has received the most attention in existing accounts of the war. Some
attention has also been paid to Anioma, the Igbo homeland, west of
the Niger River, located at the time of the fighting in Mid-Western
Region. The Anioma’s ethnic affinity with the Biafra Igbo (east of the
Niger) and strong support for the war effort led to their subjection to a
relatively shorter period of militarization by the federal army. Several
conclusions reached about the war posit its intense cruelty on all mili-
tarized societies and their citizens. Writing in the last weeks of the war
while representatives of the two sides to the conflict negotiated an end
to hostilities, Frederick Forsyth observed: ‘Too much blood has flowed,
too much misery has been caused and felt, too many lives have been
thrown uselessly away, too many tears have been shed and too much
bitterness engendered.’4
This chapter is not intended to rehash the Biafra-Nigeria conflict or,
as some writers have done, to decide the rights and the wrongs or where
to place blame, but to examine the ways in which gender is integral to
the construction – building, creation, and production – of the Nigeria-
Biafra war Scholarship. Gender is used here as a substitute for the term
‘woman’.5 To achieve the goal of this chapter, a textual study involving
a re-examination of existing accounts on the Nigeria-Biafra War was
plummet from such an apogee of grace in less than six years of its independence and
come so perilously close to collapse; how it could plunge first into brutal assassination,
then into constitutional chaos, and finally into the bloodiest civil war of the twentieth
century so that even African leaders themselves denounced the carnage as “a shame on
Africa”: how it succeeded in crushing rebellion and now accepts the challenge presented
by the years of reconstruction; how it all happened, why and who was to blame; all these
are issues that will arouse many sorts of minds to continuing analysis and arguments’.
A.H.M. Kirk-Greene, Crisis and Conflict in Nigeria: A Documentary Sourcebook 1966–1970,
Volume 1 (London: Oxford University Press, 1971), vii.
3
Egodi Uchendu, Women and Conflict in the Nigerian Civil War (Trenton, NJ: Africa World
Press, 2007).
4
Frederick Forsyth, The Making of an African Legend: The Biafran Story (Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1977), 278–279.
5
Bonnie Smith, Women’s Studies: The Basics (Oxford: Routledge, 2013), 83.
6
Bonnie Smith’s analysis of the history of women’s studies identified the 1970s as ‘its age
of discovery’ (Smith, Women’s Studies, 4).
7
Frederick Forsyth, The Biafra Story: The Making of an African Legend (New York: Pen and
Sword, 2007), 8.
that ‘beclouded his sense of judgment and objectivity’.8 The only excuse
Osuntokun could proffer for Forsyth’s disturbing revelations on the
human suffering in that war was that Forsyth wrote ‘instant history
and in the heat of the battle’, besides ‘being overwhelmed by the physi-
cal suffering of Biafrans which he witnessed in his several journeys to
the beleaguered republic’.9
What is important in all this is that Forsyth’s catalogue of the atroci-
ties perpetrated on Biafrans did not include the experiences of Biafran
women. Thus, he made no effort whatsoever to give them a voice in his
account, but clearly subsumed their experiences under the men’s. His
only direct mention of women was as he mused over the differences
between the authority structure in Biafra and Nigeria. On this, he noted:
The voice of the Biafran people is the Consultative Assembly and the Advi-
sory Council of Chiefs and Elders, and they are unanimous on that. Colonel
Ojukwu cannot go against their wishes – or on that topic their demands – no
matter how much vituperation is thrown at him for intransigence, obdu-
racy and stubbornness …
It is interesting to speculate what would happen if General Gowon were
obliged to follow the counsels on his war policy of a Consultative Assem-
bly which included strong representation of the farming community, the
academic community, the trade unions, the commercial interests and the
womenfolk; for all these people are presently showing increasing restiveness
at the war policy.10
Forsyth was aware of the existence of women in Biafra. He was also
aware that women in Biafra were not silent entities but spoke in the
society and could, like the men, show ‘increasing restiveness at the war
policy’ yet he did not provide details of this in his pioneering account of
the Nigeria-Biafra War.11 One is therefore left to guess whether the inte-
gration of women’s experiences early on would not have greatly helped
the cause of Biafra on which Forsyth was most engrossed.
In 1971, Kirk-Greene identified the target of his compilation pub-
lished in two volumes titled Crisis and Conflict in Nigeria: A Documentary
Sourcebook, 1966–1970 as follows: ‘to preserve the verbatim state-
ments made by the leading dramatis personae of the Nigerian tragedy
of 1966–70 as they were uttered and before they disappear or are
dangerously half-remembered’.12 Kirk-Greene’s work is purely docu-
mentary, containing all available documents starting from January
1966, including speeches and press releases, on the Nigeria-Biafra War.
8
Akinjide Osuntokun, ‘Review of Literature on the Civil War’ in Nigeria since Independence:
The First Twenty-Five Years, Volume 6, The Civil War Years, edited by T.N. Tamuno and S.
Ukpabi (Ibadan: Heinemann Educational, 1989), 87.
9
Ibid., 87.
10
Forsyth, The Making of an African Legend, 279–280, emphasis added.
11
Ibid., 280.
12
Kirk-Greene, Crisis and Conflict in Nigeria, viii.
14
John Oyinbo, Nigeria: Crisis and Beyond (London: Charles Knight, 1971), 111.
15
Ibid., 111.
16
Ibid., 122–123.
girl delighting every month. Three years previously the calendar had had a
mosque on nearly every page.17
With this inset Oyinbo shows us the many sides of a country torn by
warfare and how much a society can harvest of social attitudes during
times of disorder. It was evident that outside the corridors of officialdom
and the tensions of the war, life continued as usual. Yet, the promise of
a relaxation of traditional habits was eventually not realized for by the
next decade another revolutionary wave swept through the region as
some reformist Islamic leaders campaigned for a return to strict reli-
gious observances that took women back to their pre-civil war status.18
John de St. Jorre, another British journalist, tried to document the
story of the Nigeria-Biafra War. He wrote The Nigerian Civil War (1972),
according to the author, ‘in an attempt to put the record as straight as
possible; to cut through the choking fog of myth and propaganda that
obscured the conflict and to clarify the causes and course of the war
while highlighting its rights and wrongs’.19 St. Jorre did not focus much
on women in the text, but he was reasonably generous in his pictorial
representation of them. By this, he outdid other foreign authors who
wrote in the same decade. There was no chapter devoted to women, but
scattered through the book were occasional references to them and pic-
tures detailing several episodes of the drama unfolding around them:
There was a very efficient Biafran Red Cross, a Women’s Voluntary Service
and the school girls, their hair invariably bound up neatly in those spiky
‘sputnik’ plaits so common in West Africa, were knitting, sewing and cook-
ing for the boys at the front, many of whom were their former classmates. 20
It would seem that St. Jorre’s secondary motivation to ‘hold the real-
ity of Biafra’ for the historical time traveler drew him to those segments
of the society, especially women, that his contemporaries ignored.
The above extract captures women’s sense of duty towards their male
counterparts, classmates, brothers, and husbands, who went to war
voluntarily or otherwise out of necessity. For some, St. Jorre’s account
introduced them to a hairstyle common among women of that gen-
eration, described as ‘sputnik-like’. Thus, intertwined with journalistic
reports were historical elements to aid generations after the war to
understand Igbo communal life in the mid-1960s. Interestingly, much
of what St. Jorre failed to write about the female gender are documented
in the pictures he took in the course of several trips to Biafra. Herein
17
Ibid., 139–140.
18
For details of this, see Ousmane Kane, Muslim Modernity in Postcolonial Nigeria: A Study of
the Society for the Removal of Innovation and Reinstatement of Tradition (Leiden: Brill, 2003).
19
John de St. Jorre, The Nigerian Civil War (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1972). The book
was also published as The Brothers’ War: Biafra and Nigeria (Boston: Houghton Mifflin,
1972), 17.
20
Ibid., 224.
One may say that this was the first depiction of a real war-time soci-
ety. Just from the pictures, life during hostilities could be recreated, and
gender roles appreciated. With the men out in the frontlines, women
took over the running of the communities. They featured in many roles,
both to support the war effort and to maintain a semblance of order in
the society when all around was chaotic. Their efforts kept Biafra going,
as St. Jorre notes, until the last hours, yet many treated these efforts
with silence leaving the impression that the war was fought only by
men and the society kept going also only by men.
Suzanne Cronje in The World and Nigeria: The Diplomatic History of
the Biafran War 1967–1970 is one of very few early writers on the
Nigeria-Biafra War to integrate women alongside children and old men
in her discussion of propaganda and policy in the Nigeria-Biafra War.21
Cronje wrote precisely about how propaganda determined the foreign
policy initiatives of the contending parties. She scored on two impor-
tant points: she was the earliest female English writer on the war and
one of the few voices discussing the war soon after the crisis. Although
she did not give any significant attention to women, her inclusion of
how the popular British weekly, The News of the World, unwittingly
21
Suzanne Cronje, The World and Nigeria: The Diplomatic History of the Biafran War
1967–1970 (London: Sidgwick and Jackson, 1972).
joined the propaganda machinery of Biafra by calling for help for the
beleaguered republic from British citizens became one of the earliest,
direct, and powerful mentions of Biafra women in the literature on the
civil war. Following from this, women and children, instead of men and
soldiers, eventually became the international image of starving Biafra,
all thanks to The News of the World. Cronje, illustrating the power of
media propaganda reproduced the report as follows:
The News of the World sent a team to report ‘From the hell that is Biafra’,
and carried the huge bannerhead message: ‘FOR GOD’S SAKE SEND HELP
– QUICKLY’.
The report opened in a dramatic manner: ‘Twelve vultures strutted confi-
dently on the rain-sodden grass of the yard … And all around was the prey
they awaited. Women, children and old men. Hundreds of them – standing,
squatting, sprawling. All still and silent. And all dying.22
Coming at a time when there were ‘official attempts in most major capi-
tals to conceal the facts’ of the Nigeria-Biafra War, the impact of the
advert was like an explosive on many consciences that became disturbed
by it.23 From all indications, it strengthened Biafra’s claim of genocide,
made the crisis more of a humanitarian crisis than a political dilemma,
but it did not necessarily swing the fortunes of war to her advantage.
Of interest is the fact that Cronje was aware that several authors
had difficulty integrating women’s experience in accounts dealing with
diplomacy, foreign policy, military operations, arms procurement, and
oil politics, all factors that lent themselves to the dominant engagement
on male domain. The result, therefore, was that whatever women did
in these sectors was highly peripheral and largely ignored. As Cronje
went on to argue, women’s roles in this sector were either as clerical
staff or very junior workers whose behind-the-scenes role rarely cap-
tured a writer’s gaze. What Cronje did not add is the fact that the his-
tory of the marginal class, mostly represented by women, was as yet not
conceived in scholarship and to an extent in journalism at that time,
when the center, the pivotal cause of events, was dominated by men
and revolved around men.24 Anything that mattered was what men did
and so women in the diplomatic service all belonged to the margins.
Women’s unskilled positions were, therefore, incapable of capturing a
fellow woman’s gaze. It took the rise of women’s studies in the 1970s in
Western scholarship, and the United Nations’ (UN) Beijing Conference
of 1985 that concluded the UN Decade for Women, for gender-sensitive
writers to emerge in the African continent. Even then, engagements
with the social aspects of the war and especially with issues about
women are still not complete.
22
Ibid., 211.
23
Ibid., ix.
24
Smith, Women’s Studies, 36.
25
Stremlau, The International Politics of the Nigerian Civil War.
26
Ibid., 28.
27
Robert Legvold, Soviet Policy in West Africa (Cambridge, MA.: Harvard University Press,
1970), 31–38.
28
Stremlau, The International Politics of the Nigerian Civil War, 80–81.
29
See the following: Forsyth, The Making of an African Legend, 52–63; Stremlau, The Inter-
national Politics of the Nigerian Civil War, 81; A.A. Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution and the
Biafran War (Enugu: Fourth Dimension, 1980); and A. Ademoyega, Why We Struck: The
Story of the First Nigerian Coup (Ibadan: Evans Brothers, 1981).
embittered the Ibos that practically all of them – men and women, young
and old, soldier and civilian – were bent upon revenge against the Hausas.30
Akpan followed up this recognition of women in the next paragraph; he
stated how, after giving a sermon at the University of Nigeria in which
he called for Christian charity, love, and forgiveness towards the per-
petrators of the 1966 atrocities on the Igbo, ‘hostile and disapproving
groups of women surrounded [him] and remonstrated against that por-
tion of [his] sermon concerned with love and forgiveness’.31 One elderly
woman, he continued, had said: ‘As far as what the Hausas have done
to our people is concerned, we shall neither love, nor forgive, nor forget.
If that is what will send us to hell, then we are prepared.’32 Akpan’s
account of the Biafran War contained the appalling experiences of
the Igbo in Northern Nigeria between September and October 1966:
victims with severed limbs, broken heads, and worse. He not only gave
women a voice, but also went further in the body of his work and in
the index to highlight their contributions to the war effort through the
formation of cooperative societies and voluntary organizations.33
Readers of Akpan’s account could discern female agency as well as
their opinions on, and reactions to, the difficult events of 1966 that led
up to the civil war. Besides clear instances of individual female agency
in the book, group agency was also identifiable in women’s responses to
the events unfolding around them. Whatever its weaknesses, the fact
that he takes the voiceless seriously and draws attention to their inca-
pacitation amid the overwhelming elite public opinion that influenced
events within Biafra during the war makes Akpan’s account one of the
first grassroots’ treatment of the war by an indigenous writer.
Akpan mentioned how most people considered secession unfortu-
nate, but he could not publicly express such an opinion in the face of the
overwhelming support for secession. The important contribution of Bia-
fran women to the Biafran War, documented by Akpan, was the sudden
emergence of women’s voluntary organizations early in the conflict in
response to allegations of neglect of and food shortages among the fight-
ing corps. He writes, a ‘number of the women and girls actually went to
the fronts to cook and assist the soldiers in other ways’, exactly what St.
Jorre captured roughly a year later in pictures.34 Akpan’s inclusion of
women’s experiences and roles in his introduction, body and the index
was a clear departure from several early texts on the war.
Incidentally, Akpan did not set out to write about women. His con-
cern was to expose the mistake called Biafra and the heinous nature
30
N.U. Akpan, The Struggle for Secession 1966–1970: A Personal Account of The Nigerian Civil
War (London: Frank Cass, 1972), xi.
31
Ibid., xvi-xvii.
32
Ibid.
33
Ibid., 99, 128–30.
34
Ibid., 99.
35
Ibid., ix.
36
See ibid., xvi.
37
Ibid., x.
38
Madiebo, The Nigerian Revolution, x.
39
Ibid., 377–392.
40
Zdenek Cervenka, The Nigerian War, 1967–1970: History of the War – Selected Bibliogra-
phy and Documents (Frankfurt: Bernard & Graefe, 1971).
41
R.N. Ogbudinkpa, The Economics of the Nigerian Civil War and its Prospects for National
Development (Enugu: Fourth Dimension, 1985), 62–63.
42
The Biafran Sun, November 28, 1968.
43
I. Dike Ogu, The Long Shadows of Biafra (Nsukka: AP Express, 2001), iii.
44
Ibid., viii.
45
Ibid., 67–73.
46
Achike Udenwa, Nigeria/Biafra Civil War: My Experience (Ibadan: Spectrum, 2011).
Achike’s purpose was ‘to fill the gap and further highlight the role played
by the lower command – the platoons, companies, battalions and bri-
gades’.47 The author told how young officers, consumed with patriotic
fervor but without professional training, fought in the war. Very little
could be considered new in this account. It is simply one more review of
Nigeria’s colonial and postcolonial histories. What may be regarded as
the author’s personal experiences and the social effects of the war in the
form of rapes of women and prostitution are discussed in three out of
the seven chapters of the book. Neither the military aspect of the work
nor its social effects was given any incisive or elaborate treatment.48
In Egodi Uchendu’s Women and Conflict in the Nigerian Civil War, wom-
en’s experiences of the Nigeria-Biafra War differed considerably from
one person to the other and were defined by each woman’s location at
any point in time during the crisis and also by individual circumstances
among other factors.49 A clear distinction could be made for the two
groups of Igbo women – those in Biafra, east of the Niger and the major
war theater, and their sisters in Anioma, west of the Niger who suffered
as well, but whose homeland was not militarized for as long as was the
case east of the Niger.
So far, the two main works specifically focused on these categories of
women are Gloria Chuku’s ‘Women in the Economy of Igboland, 1900
to 1970: A Survey’, which considers the experience of Biafra women,
and Egodi Uchendu’s Women and Conflict in the Nigerian War, which was
about the experiences of Anioma women during and after the conflict.50
Chuku integrated an analysis of Biafra women’s economic roles within
a broader discussion of Igbo rural women’s participation in agricul-
ture and local industries, and urban women in trade and commerce in
Igboland over several decades from 1900 to 1970. Her discussion paid
attention to women’s ingenuity in trade during the war, highlighting in
particular the trans-border trade with the Anioma Igbo, a theme that
both Emezue and Uchendu further explored.51 Uchendu, who studied
Anioma women during the years spanning 1966 to 1975 with the goal
of understanding and documenting the experiences of women who
lived in one of the marginal Igbo homelands in the course of the civil
war, incorporated the Anioma angle of the border trade along with
several other ingenious contributions of women, in this supposedly
47
Ibid.
48
Chukwuma Osakwe, Nigeria/Biafra Civil War: My Experience by Achike Udenwa (Ibadan:
Spectrum Books Ltd., 2011), reprinted in Scientia Militaria 41:1 (2013), 155–157,
http://scientiamilitaria.journals.ac.za/pub/article/view/1057 (accessed July 23, 2014).
49
Uchendu, Women and Conflict in the Nigerian Civil War.
50
Gloria Chuku, ‘Women in the Economy of Igboland, 1900 to 1970: A Survey’, African
Economic History, 23 (1995), 37–50; and Uchendu, Women and Conflict in the Nigerian
War.
51
Sydney Emezue, ‘Women and the War’, in A Social History of the Nigerian Civil War: Per-
spectives from Below, edited by A. Harneit-Sievers, J.O. Ahazuem, and S. Emezue (Enugu:
Jemezie Associates, 1997).
borderline Igbo society, that enabled the women’s survival and those of
their menfolk during the war.
One peculiar quality of Anioma war-time society was the horrendous
massacre of the male population by Nigerian soldiers in several com-
munities. The death of the men placed women in a disturbingly exposed
frame and eventually spurred them to an amazing degree of resilience
that enabled them to survive the war. At the same time, it protected, at
great cost, their embattled menfolk who had to remain hidden from the
federal army and their children. Anioma women were involved in the
very risky trans-border trade, which sometimes involved transporting
trade goods with coffins to escape detection by the ever-watchful and
prowling federal soldiers. This trade was, on one hand, a humanitarian
action geared at helping the Biafra Igbo to survive the war and, on the
other hand, a calculated offensive against the Nigerian army. The frus-
trations the federal army encountered in their attempts to arrest and
break the trans-border trade between Anioma and Biafra was evident
in their repeated, but unsuccessful plea throughout the hostilities for
the Anioma to give up the trade.52 The trade served in undermining
the federal army’s goal to crush Biafra through starvation. It also spoke
volumes of Anioma women’s agency and capability in deciding the out-
come of an intractable problem.
The civil war posed a multi-faceted challenge to women in Anioma;
survival took different forms and was understood differently by indi-
vidual women. Clearly, they exploited every available opportunity to
survive. However, some became too adventurous in their attempts to
manage the situation; they wandered away from societal restrictions
by going into short-term, war-time prostitution alongside a variety
of other liaisons. Others created innovative and daring ways to cope.
Varying degrees of these coping strategies existed in Anioma. Several
women abandoned traditional roles and stepped into the shoes of men,
performing functions that were the normal preserve of men. For exam-
ple, the cream of Biafra militia was from Anioma. Nicole Dombrowski
had argued that when women opt for the frontlines, they claim a place
for themselves with men who traditionally enjoy much respect by their
willingness to risk their lives for their communities.53
An important aspect of the war was the challenge it posed to Anioma
women’s uncritical submission to social norms. Decades of adherence
to these norms left women disadvantaged during such a major crisis
as the civil war. For instance, the majority had accepted the creed that
education was for men. War-time reality proved that theory very wrong
as only the few slightly educated women were employed during the
crisis. The larger percentage without any education were severely cash
52
The Nigerian Observer, June 8 and July 9, 1968.
53
Nicole Dombrowski, Women and War in the Twentieth Century (New York: Garland, 1999),
2.
strapped and were forced to depend on their own whims and imagina-
tion to survive and ensure their survival as well as that of their relatives.
Little wonder that after the war women in Anioma championed educa-
tion, especially of their daughters to give them a better grounding in
the society than they had and to guarantee their security in case of a
future crisis.
In 2012, Chinua Achebe published There was a Country: A Personal
History of Biafra. In this comprehensive memoir of his life, Achebe told
‘Nigeria’s story, Biafra’s story, our story and [his] story’.54 Women and
their worlds – specifically those of his mother, wife, sisters, and sisters-
in-law – abound in Achebe’s story. From his reminiscences, dating back
to the last decades of the nineteenth century, we follow the Igbo female
world, the cultural restrictions on the female gender that could often
easily translate into an insult to Igbo tradition, and conflicts over gender
roles.55 In Part Two, which deals with the war, Achebe captures several
atrocities meted out to women by federal troops, including indiscrimi-
nate executions. Achebe recalls an August 1968 article in The Times of
London: ‘In Oji River … the Nigerian forces opened fire and murdered
fourteen nurses and the patients in wards.’56
Among other military atrocities visited on women in Biafra were
rapes and intentional starvation. Achebe interspersed his narrative
with an interesting repertoire of poems that captured many aspects of
Biafra women’s war-time trauma. One such poem, ‘Refugee Mother and
Child’, tells of a mother’s tender care of her very sick child. It is remi-
niscent of many Biafra women’s fortitude in the face of overwhelming
hopelessness. Excerpts from the poem read:
No Madonna and Child could touch
Her tenderness for a son
She soon would have to forget.
The air was heavy with odors of diarrhea,
Of unwashed children with washed-out ribs.
And dried up bottoms waddling in labored steps
Behind blown-empty bellies.
Most members there
had long ceased to care, but not this one;
She held a ghost-smile between her teeth,
And in her eyes the memory
Of a mother’s pride … She had bathed him
And rubbed him down with bare palms.57
54
Chinua Achebe, There Was a Country: A Personal History of Biafra (New York: Penguin,
2012), 3.
55
Ibid., 10.
56
Ibid., 137.
57
Ibid., 168.
The strict divide in gender roles collapsed during the war as women and
young girls, unsolicited, took over several male duties everywhere. They
did this in addition to their normal social responsibilities.
There Was a Country is as much the story of Chinua Achebe as it is of
his wife Christie Achebe during the Nigeria-Biafra War. In its pages, one
reads about Christie and her civil war experiences. This unintentional,
third-hand biography of Christie Achebe has enriched the Nigeria-
Biafra War scholarship because it partially fills the gap created by an
evident paucity of women’s stories on the war. Her elite education and
lifestyle were relinquished because of the crisis. She made many neces-
sary adjustments and filled several roles in efforts to both survive and
to contribute to the survival of others. She took on the task of teaching
school to help her children and those of her hosts continue with their
studies amidst the chaos everywhere, and by so doing tried to lessen the
scars of the war on the next generation. In her own way, she was a war
hero as many other women were.
Conclusion
The Nigeria-Biafra War has provided a platform for all manner of writ-
ings: military reports, biographies, autobiographies, and others. No
doubt it has also provided an important platform for all classes of par-
ticipants – observers, victims, and victors – who were drawn from dif-
ferent generations of Nigerians and from expatriates of all classes and
walks of life to engage with the subject from any angle whatsoever. It
is most interesting that, within two years of the conflict, several books
discussing Nigeria and its unfortunate civil war emerged in different
languages, but mostly in English, French, and German. The majority of
these works were written by foreigners.58
Nigerians woke up slowly to the duty of documenting the war, per-
haps because of their preoccupation with the conflict itself, but since
that time they have risen to the task. Impartial and definitive studies
on the war have continued to emerge, but few do justice to gender and
women’s studies. The majority of the literature on the conflict is gender
58
A few examples include François Debré, Biafra An II (Paris: Julliard, 1968); F. de Bonne
ville, La Mort du Biafra (Paris: Soler, 1968); Jean Buhler, Tuez les Tous! Guerre de Seces-
sion au Biafra (Paris: Flammarion, 1968); Eduardo dos Santos, Biafra: A Questão de Biafra
(Porto: Portucalense, 1968); Paul Iyorpuu Unongo, The Case for Nigeria (Lagos: Town and
Gown, 1968); Forsyth, The Making of an African Legend; Paola Antonello, Alex Chima,
and Obi Benue Joseph Egbuna, Nigeria gegen Biafra? Falsche Alternativen oder über die Ver-
schärfung der Widersprüche im Neokolonialismus (West Berlin: Wagenbach, 1969); Captain
Armand, Biafra Vaincra (Paris: France-Empire, 1969); Bruce Hilton, Highly Irregular (New
York: Macmillan, 1969); Ulf Himmelstrand, Varlden: Nigeria och Biafra (Stockholm: Aldus
Aktuellt, 1969); C.C. von Rosen, Le Ghetto Biafrais tel que je l’ai vu (Paris: Arthaud, 1969);
Jean Wolf and Claude Brovelli, La Guerre des rapaces: La vérité sur la guerre du Biafra (Par-
is: Albin Michel, 1969); and A. Waugh and S. Cronjé, Biafra: Britain’s Shame (London:
Michael Joseph, 1969).
neutral with little distinction in how different gender groups and seg-
ments of the society felt about the war. As it is, one is even tempted to
conclude that Nigerian authors have shown more gender conscious-
ness in their writings than non-Nigerian authors.
On the whole, few authors set out ab initio to discuss women and the
war. Writers like Cronje and Ogbudinkpa included them only to buttress
their arguments; they simply provided skeletal references to one act or
another performed by women during the war. Such inclusions fall short
of providing a holistic picture of women’s varied roles, activities, and
experiences during that conflict. What is particularly obvious is that
more gender-conscious and women-focused narratives are needed on
the Nigeria-Biafra War.
Jane Bryce
Part 1: Overview
Writing, history, memory
As the benefit of hindsight has revealed, the Nigerian Civil War was
to become the very sign of post-Independence African wars, from the
invasion of Uganda by Tanzania in 1978–1979, to conflicts, whether
brief or long-drawn-out, in Sudan, Somalia, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Liberia,
Sierra Leone, Côte d’Ivoire, Rwanda, and Zimbabwe, and as a tropologi-
cal prefiguring of today’s situation in the Niger Delta. Occurring when
they did, so soon after Nigerian Independence in 1960, the secession of
Biafra and the subsequent civil war signified the shaky foundation of
the nation-state in ex-colonial Africa, the potential for ethnic discord,
competition over resources and the quest for power on the part of the
new elites. Women have played a part in all these wars, both as fighters
(including child soldiers) and, in some rare instances, as leaders, but to
a far-greater extent as providers of army supplies, traders and producers
of food, nurses, relief organizers, protectors of the weak and ensurers
of collective survival. In the case of Biafra, although their role was pre-
dominantly non-combative (reflecting, no doubt, the gender politics of
the time), the burden of suffering was none the less for that. This suffer-
ing is a strong thematic link in women’s war narratives, whether of the
immediate post-war period or those which have emerged from what is
now called the Third Generation of Nigerian writers. These narratives,
moreover, depending as they do on personal and collective memory, are
inevitably marked by trauma, which notoriously leads to both obsessive
repetition and to repression, effects which may impede memory. If the
Civil War constitutes ‘the wound that speaks’ in Nigeria’s construction
of itself as an independent state, how do women’s narratives of the
423
6
Craig McLuckie, ‘A Preliminary Checklist of Primary and Secondary sources on Nigerian
Civil War/Biafran War Literature’, Research in African Literatures (henceforth RAL) 18:4
(1987), 510–527, 510.
7
Chidi Amuta, ‘Literature of the Nigerian Civil War’, in Perspectives in Nigerian Literature:
1700 to the Present, Vol. I, edited by Y. Ogunbuyi (Lagos: Guardian Books, 1988), 85.
8
A. Adimora-Ezeigbo, ‘From the Horse’s Mouth: The Politics of Remembrance in Women’s
Writing on the Nigerian Civil War’, Matatu, 29:30 (2005), 221–230.
9
Ibid., 6.
10
Marion Pape, Gender Palava: Nigerian Women Writing War (Trier: WVT Wissenschaftlicher,
2011), 1.
11
Ibid., 4.
12
Marie Umeh, ‘The Poetics of Thwarted Sensitivity’, in Critical Theory and African Litera-
ture, edited by Ernest Emenyonu, Calabar Studies in African Literature 3 (Ibadan: Heine-
mann, 1987), 194.
13
Chinyere Nwahunanya, ed., A Harvest from Tragedy: Critical Perspectives on Nigerian Civil
War Literature (Owerri: Springfield, 1997), 14.
14
Flora Nwapa, This is Lagos (Enugu: Tana Press, 1971), 132.
15
Ibid., 134.
16
Ibid., 135.
17
Nwapa, Wives at War, and Other Stories (Enugu: Tana Press, 1980); Never Again. (London:
Heinemann Educational, 1975).
18
Virginia Woolf, Three Guineas (London: Hogarth Press, 1938), 17–18.
19
Ifi Amadiume, Male Daughters, Female Husbands (London: Zed, 1987); Judith Van Al-
len, ‘“Aba riots” or Igbo “women’s war?”: Ideology, Stratification, and the Invisibility of
women’, in Women in Africa, edited by N.J. Hafkin and E.G. Bay (Stanford, CA: Stanford
University Press, 1976).
20
Van Allen, ‘Aba riots’, 81.
the dismal finding that there has been scarcely any increase in the political
power of Nigerian women from 1965 to 1979. This is despite the fact that
since 1965 more women than ever before have graduated from universi-
ties, many have become professionals, and a number have become judges,
permanent secretaries, business executives and media executives. However,
there is no spillover from educational attainment and professional diversifi-
cation to political power.21
If, as it would seem, by 1967 the political position of the women of East-
ern Nigeria was one of dependency on male power-brokers, does this
suggest that women may have felt constrained in writing about the War
because to do so was to enter a peculiarly masculine discourse? Chidi
Amuta in 1984 analysed the War as a crisis of the bourgeois elite and
an indictment of the political leadership, suggesting that the heroes of
novels by Biafran writers Eddie Iroh, I.N.C. Aniebo and John Munonye
are ‘repudiations of a specific phase of bourgeois hegemony in Nigerian
history’.22 What is important in his analysis is the concept of ‘hero’ and
what constitutes ‘heroism’. First, as he points out, war novel heroes
reflect the class position of the writers, and also their frequently criti-
cal perspective on the War. Certainly, fictional treatments of the War by
non-Biafrans, such as Wole Soyinka’s Season of Anomy (1973), Elechi
Amadi’s Sunset in Biafra (1973), Ken Saro-Wiwa’s Sozaboy (1985) and
Festus Iyayi’s Heroes (1986), are overtly critical of the political machi-
nations of both Nigerian and Biafran leaders. Festus Iyayi’s novel makes
its statement in explicitly class terms:
You get rid of the greed by getting rid of the ruling class, the generals and
politicians and businessmen and traditional rulers and church leaders and
professors … I tell you that the Ibo [sic] soldier is not the real enemy, nor are
you the real enemies of the Ibo soldiers.23
But if class position defined both writers and heroes, there is still the
question raised by Virginia Woolf: ‘But the educated man’s sister – what
does ‘patriotism’ mean to her?’24 Texts by male writers, whether they
endorse the notion of Biafra, like Chukwuemeka Ike’s Sunset at Dawn
(1976), or question it (see above), nonetheless assume the centrality
of masculine experience in the events of the War. As a rule, in male-
authored accounts there is an intrinsic and inevitable marginaliza-
tion of women’s role as neither combative nor concerned with policy
making, but centered on survival. Though both Rose Njoku and Flora
Nwapa give a very good account of the sacrificial effort involved in
21
Nina Mba, Nigerian Women Mobilised: Women’s Political Activity in Southern Nigeria,
1900–1965 (Berkeley: Institute of International Studies, 1982), 303.
22
Chidi Amuta, ‘History, Society and Heroism in the Nigerian War Novel’, Kunapip. 6:3
(1984), 69.
23
Festus Iyayi, Heroes (Harlow: Longman, 1986), 131.
24
Woolf, Three Guineas, 17–18.
surviving and ensuring the survival of others, this effort is not figured
as heroism in any conventional sense. Amuta, exploring the relation-
ship between heroism and history, maintains:
critical discourse of modern African literature must delve deeper into the
ontological configurations of the very literary works in order to decipher
the truth value of the texts as systems of aesthetic signification of meanings
that ultimately derive from history.25
The elements of this statement: ‘ontological configurations’, ‘truth
value’, ‘aesthetic signification’, and ‘history’, combine to project an
assumption that the primary value of a war novel is its mimetic faith-
fulness to history perceived as externally verifiable events. Within
the social realist genre it espouses, the protagonist assumes a kind of
universal representativeness: accordingly, the various portraits of the
hero in these novels derive ultimately from the position of writers in the
structure of the Nigerian society up to the period of the war at least.26
Writers, Amuta suggests, had been schooled for power, ‘nurtured in the
colonial educational system as logical successors to the colonialists’.27
The universality of Amuta’s statements, rife with easily disprovable
assumptions about the nature of reality and its relationship to narra-
tive, nonetheless provides a useful starting point for questioning their
applicability on gender terms. Is it true, for example, that women writ-
ers were ‘schooled for power?’ What of ‘the educated man’s sister?’
What was she nurtured for? According to Van Allen: ‘The missionary’s
avowed purpose in educating girls was to train them for Christian mar-
riage and motherhood, not for jobs or citizenship.’28 Nwapa’s Women are
Different bears witness to this in the education her protagonists receive
at the Archdeacon Crowther Memorial Girls’ School, Elelenwa, in the
early 1950s, which leaves them entirely unfitted for survival in the
Nigeria of the 1970s.29 Similarly, in One is Enough (1981), the protago-
nist, Amaka, learns from her aunt and mother – free of Western educa-
tion and closer to Igbo tradition – not to be dependent on a man: ‘The
good missionaries had emphasized chastity, marriage and the home.
Her mother was teaching her something different. Was it something
traditional which she did not know because she went to school and was
taught in the tradition of the white missionaries?’30 The logic of this is,
at the very least, that women indeed had a different relationship to the
War from men, who did the actual fighting and held the command posi-
tions. This certainly does not imply that women were inactive or passive
– indeed, in the longue durée, Njoku and Adams quote from Equiano’s
25
Amuta, ‘History, Society and Heroism’, 57.
26
Ibid., 60.
27
Ibid.
28
Van Allen, ‘Aba riots’, 76.
29
Nwapa, Women Are Different (Enugu: Tana Press, 1984).
30
Nwapa, One is Enough (Enugu: Tana Press, 1981), 11.
Women at war
That earlier women writers are conscious of writing as a gendered act,
and thus of stepping out of masculine territory, is borne out by the titles
31
Ibrahim Umaru and Theophilus D. Lagi, ‘Women in the Aftermath of Ethnic Conflicts:
the Egbirra-Bassa Crisis, 1986–2000’, in Shaping our Struggles: Nigerian Women in His-
tory, Culture and Social Change, edited by Obioma Nnaemeka and Chima Korieh (Trenton,
NJ and Asmara: Africa World Press, 2011), 116–117.
32
Van Allen, ‘Aba riots’, 84
33
Ifi Amadiume, ‘Women’s Political History’, West Africa 10 (September, 1984), 1839.
34
Buchi Emecheta, Destination Biafra (London: Allison & Busby, 1982), viii.
35
Rose Njoku, Withstand the Storm: War Memoirs of a Housewife (Ibadan: Heinemann Edu-
cational, 1986), xi.
36
Olusegun Obasanjo, My Command: An Account of the Nigerian Civil War 1967–1970 (Lon-
don: Heinemann, 1981); Adewale Ademoyega, Why We Struck: the Story of the First Nige-
rian Coup (lbadan: Evans Brothers, 1981).
37
Nwapa, Never Again, 5, emphasis added.
38
Ibrahim Umaru and Theophilus D. Lagi, ‘Women in the Aftermath of Ethnic Conflicts:
the Egbirra-Bassa Crisis, 1986–2000’, Nnaemeka and Korieh, Shaping our Struggles:
Nigerian Women in History, Culture and Social Change, edited by Obioma Nnaemeka and
Chima J. Korieh (Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 2011), 251.
39
Nwapa, Wives at War, 3.
40
Ibid., 11
41
Ibid., 13
42
Ibid.
43
Ibid., 14
reveals the extent to which women were aware of their position and
their relationship to internal and external power. In the absence of
guns, their most deadly weapon is ‘feminine intuition’, by which the
Foreign Secretary is entirely defeated, conceding that he will have to
investigate the women’s complaint.
The comic element of self-seeking masquerading as patriotism recurs
in Nwapa’s Never Again, a thinly disguised account of her own war
experiences, in which the narrator Kat’s skepticism contrasts with her
husband’s reluctance to concede that Biafra is going to be defeated. This
skepticism also contrasts with the ruthless hypocrisy of some of those
in positions of power, notably Kate and her husband’s friend, Kal, who
says she should be in detention for disbelieving the Biafran propaganda.
This polarization is evident early on at a village meeting, where most of
those in attendance
were the old politicians. I did not like them. To my way of thinking they
caused the war. And they were now in the forefront again directing the
war. The women especially were very active, more active than the men in
fact. They made uniforms for the soldiers, they cooked for the soldiers and
gave expensive presents to the officers. And they organised the women who
prayed every Wednesday for Biafra. In return for these services, they were
rewarded with special war reports exclusive to them and them alone.44
The fact that one of those who is most vocal, the woman leader, claims
to have lost her husband in the War when Kate and Chudi know he died
of diabetes, ironizes her exhortations to the people to stay and not flee
the Nigerian soldiers:
Why am I a woman? God, you should have made me a man. I would have
said to the young men, to the youths whose blood I know is boiling now
in their veins, follow me. I’ll lead you. I’ll fight the Vandals. They will not
be allowed to pollute our fatherland. They will not be allowed to set their
ugly feet on the soil of Ugwuta. Never in history, my grandfathers and great
grandfathers never told me that Ugwuta had suffered from any aggressor.
This will not happen in my life time!45
The fact that she is the first to crack and run underlines not only the
emptiness of her rhetoric, but the cynicism and hypocrisy of war leaders
in general, who require people to do what they will not do themselves.
The terms in which it is expressed implicitly question assumptions of
gendered heroism, even while the specific history and larger context of
the War are not spelled out. However, in objecting that all these mass
meetings achieve nothing, Kate implicitly addresses the wider context
through a critique of political and class privilege:
44
Nwapa, Never Again, 10–11.
45
Ibid., 12
Committees could achieve something. Later I had discussed this point with
one of the leaders. It was after our discussion which went very well that the
‘elites’ decided to form a ‘war cabinet’. My husband was not one of them.
He was not an ‘elite’. But it was our idea, and nobody remembered us. Obvi-
ously, we could not be trusted.46
In a work that profoundly questions nationalist discourse, Nwapa
highlights the way that discourse is constructed and controlled by those
in power through a process of exclusion that has potentially deadly con-
sequences. Kate’s perfectly logical insistence that the best thing to do is
to run elicits a threat of arrest, diverted by her husband’s plea that she
is suffering a mental breakdown. Meanwhile, her capacity for a surgical
deconstruction of the pieties and dangers of nationalism demonstrates
mental clarity rather than confusion:
No, the Nigerians should not have fought us. We had left Lagos for them.
They should have left us in peace in our new-found Biafra. We could have
built up our Biafra ‘where no one would be oppressed’. Was anybody sure
of this? ‘Where no one would be oppressed’? There was already oppression
even before the young nation was able to stand on her feet. Wasn’t it even
possible that war could have broken out in the young nation if there was
no civil war? Perhaps Nigeria did well to attack us. If they hadn’t we would
have, out of frustration, begun to attack and kill one another.47
It is easy to criticize Never Again, as does Obododimma Oha, for being
‘propagandistic’ and over-emotional.48 What it does very well, however,
is to give an insight into the situation of ordinary, non-combatant and
non-political people, trying to live their lives in a situation of unbear-
able contradictions. The narrowness of focus – the village of Ugwuta
and the vacillation of its inhabitants about when to run in the face of
direct frontal attack – and the simplicity of the narrative style, throw
into relief the horrors of the panic-stricken evacuation: a woman dying
in childbirth at the side of the road, a man’s grief-stricken account of
his wife’s death. The simplicity has the virtue also of clarity of purpose.
Nwapa’s disgust and utter rejection of the War and the way people are
manipulated within it can be read as articulating dissent from a domi-
nant masculine political narrative. Describing their return to Ugwuta,
Kate asks:
Where was everybody? What folly? What arrogance, what stupidity led us to
this desolation, this madness, to this wickedness, to this war, to this death?
46
Ibid., 17
47
Ibid., 50.
48
Obododimma Oha, ‘Never A Gain? A Critical Reading of Flora Nwapa’s Never Again’, in
Emerging Perspectives on Flora Nwapa, edited by Marie Umeh (Trenton, NJ and Asmara,
Eritrea: Africa World Press, 1998), 430.
When this cruel war was over, there will be no more war. It will not happen
again, never again.49
This emotional statement with its concatenation of evils and rhetorical
repetitions, may have the force of a spontaneous, unconsidered outburst,
but in its uncensored outrage it expresses the effects of trauma – later
to be returned to in retrospect by writers who were at the time children
(Chris Abani, Dulue Mabachu) or did not directly experience the War
(Chimamanda Adichie, Sefi Atta, Helon Habila, Uzodinma Iweala), for
whom the trauma is a lingering trace and must be reimagined into life.
Nwapa’s forceful dissent reverberates in Sefi Atta’s Everything Good Will
Come (though not a ‘Biafran’ novel, one of the most significant novels
by a third-generation Nigerian woman writer, and strongly affiliated to
novels I will examine later) some 30 years on: ‘What was the country
I loved? The country I would fight for? Should it have borders?’50 These
questions, dependent as they are on a retrospective stance on postcolo-
nial Nigeria, are questions Nwapa’s Kate, caught in the tide of Biafran
patriotism, could not so easily articulate. The poet, Olu Oguibe, 30 years
later, answers them thus: ‘It occurred to me that the country that I was
willing to fight and die for, the country that I celebrated in song and
poetry, had set out not so long ago to destroy me and my own in order to
save its pride.’51 To read these later utterances against Nwapa’s shows
how the contradictions have only intensified with time. Nwapa’s strong
and uncompromising ideological statement in Wives at War is therefore
all the more remarkable. As in Never Again, in the short story, ‘A Certain
Death’, in which a woman pays an 18-year-old volunteer to take her
brother’s place in the army, she refuses to turn away her eyes from the
social effects of suspicion and insecurity, accusations of sabotage and
victimization. Nor does her determination to save her brother blind her
to the moral dilemma of paying someone to replace him. Oha’s asser-
tion, that ‘Never Again does not transcend the emotional weakness of
the pro-war propaganda that it seeks to undermine and demystify …
the narrative undermines itself as a critique on the demerits of senti-
mentalizing war’, fails to take into account the relative power of these
opposing discourses and the irony with which they are juxtaposed.52
The same emphasis on survival at all costs and at the price of personal
sacrifice is evident in Rosina Umelo’s (1978) Felicia, which addresses the
social changes, particularly the new choices for women, brought about
by the immense upheavals of the War.53 Like Never Again, it critiques
hypocrisy and false values, but affords a more optimistic celebration of
personal integrity and community support. Felicia, a young Red Cross
49
Nwapa, Never Again, 70.
50
Sefi Atta, Everything Good Will Come (Adlestrop: Arris, 2005), 299.
51
Olu Oguibe, ‘Remembering Biafra’, Chimurenga 8 (2005), 30.
52
Oha, ‘Never A Gain?’, 430.
53
Rosina Umelo, Felicia (London: Macmillan, 1978).
nurse, returns home to her village at the end of the War, at a time when
songs are being sung about girls who have ‘spoilt’ themselves. When her
pregnancy becomes apparent, she refuses to reveal the identity of the
father to her mother and the elders. Her mother becomes so distraught
that Felicia is sent to Enugu to stay with a relative and have the baby.
Her determination to have the baby, whom she names Nkemakolam –
‘Let me keep what is my own’ – and her refusal to accept the elders’
alternative to local disgrace – to go to Lagos and become a prostitute
– eventually win her the respect of her people. She is given a second
chance to make good and sent back to school. Returning home after
exams, she meets a delegation from the family of her deceased lover.
A letter written to his brother about his intention to marry Felicia was
delivered after his death and remained unopened, till one day it dropped
from his mother’s prayer missal. Felicia is thus vindicated and her son
accepted into his father’s family.
The novel touches on many issues to do with the disruptive effects of
the War on many aspects of people’s lives, from the traditional system
to education and the new lawlessness that reigns in the city of Enugu.
The tension that arises from Felicia’s individual pride and insistence on
privacy in the face of communal values and customs illustrates the far-
reaching effects of change. No longer is the choice for a woman that
between respectable marriage and leaving the village to seek her for-
tune in Lagos. Felicia demonstrates the possibility of making a personal
choice to remain at home as an unmarried mother, despite public dis-
pleasure. Education offers the promise of an even more different future,
the chance for a mother to support her child herself in the absence of
a husband – a theme Nwapa was to take up in the 1980s novels, One is
Enough and Women Are Different. When Felicia’s school principal pon-
ders: ‘Class three with illegitimate children or even babies born in mar-
riage? Why be surprised? Before the war, what did class three personally
know of such things apart from carrying around the regular arrivals
within their own families?’54
We can see how Felicia implicitly questions the ‘imagined commu-
nity’ of pre- and post-war Biafra by showing profound social change as
an unintended consequence of that war. Lee Erwin has usefully read
this novel as participating in the ‘mixed generic codes’ of the Pacesetter
Series by which it was published, so as to ‘recast those genres in order
to suggest other possibilities for women’ in an ‘attempt to reattach their
protagonists to multivalent kinship structures that offer women oppor-
tunities for alliance with other women and greater social authority in
their own right’.55 He suggests that novels of this period – the 1970s
and 1980s – share a common project of ‘rereading women’s roles in
54
Ibid., 113
55
Lee Erwin, ‘Genre and Authority in Some Popular Nigerian Women’s Novels’, RAL, 33:2
(2002), 95.
Gendering heroism
Rose Njoku and Buchi Emecheta, two other authors of earlier nar-
ratives, take a different approach from Nwapa and Umelo by depict-
ing events from the point of view of a protagonist who is very much
bound up in the macro-politics of the War. Rose Njoku’s first-hand
story is a remarkable document of danger and suffering, considering
she is not describing the front but simply how she and her family sur-
vived as civilians. Her situation, similarly to that of Nwapa’s Kate, was
complicated by the fact that her husband was detained early on as a
saboteur, and therefore she was ostracized by all but a few and had to
fend for herself. Withstand the Storm makes an eloquent counterpoint
to Emecheta’s Destination Biafra, in the sense that Rose Njoku actually
underwent many of the experiences Emecheta ascribes to the fictional
Debbie Ogedemgbe. In terms of definitions of heroism and patriotism,
and the relationship of the individual to history, these two texts provide
interesting contrasts, not least in their approach to their protagonists.
The most obvious of these is that, while Njoku endures pain, privation,
and anxiety with stoical fortitude and underplays her own role as that
of a dutiful wife, Emecheta makes all sorts of claims for Debbie as a new
type of African woman. Debbie, indeed, has been co-opted as a West-
ern-defined feminist heroine by the critic Katherine Frank who asserts:
‘Debbie is an unabashed feminist, but she is so completely Europeanized
that one may ask if she is still an African woman.’57
It is a pertinent question: what is a ‘true’ African woman? Is she
what Molara Ogundipe-Leslie has derided as a stereotype, the ‘pot of
culture, who is static as history passes her by, who wants the old ways
of life, who speaks like a lobotomised idiot of “iron snakes” and “our
husband”’?58 In 2005, Sefi Atta’s Enitan objects to being classified in
the following terms: ‘I didn’t know how to think like an African woman.
I only knew how to think for myself.’59 And, ‘If a woman sneezed in
56
Ibid.
57
Katherine Frank, ‘Women without Men: The Feminist Novel in Africa’, African Literature
Today, edited by Eldred Durosimi Jones, Eustace Palmer and Marjorie Jones (London:
James Currey, 1987), 26.
58
Molara Ogundipe-Leslie, ‘The Female Writer and her Commitment’, Association of Nige-
rian Authors (ANA) Review 1:1 (1985), 12.
59
Atta, Everything Good, 294.
our country, someone would call her a feminist.’60 Since both terms,
‘African woman’ and ‘feminist’, are used to undermine and enforce obe-
dience to a conservative status quo, it is the status quo itself that Enitan
rejects. In seeking to claim Debbie as a feminist heroine – a woman who
forges her identity independently of men – Frank overlooks the extent to
which it is her privileged background that enables her to confront men
on equal terms, a forerunner, perhaps, of Olanna and Kehinde in Half
of a Yellow Sun. Emecheta herself calls her ‘a very radical modern girl of
Africa’, and says, ‘one of the criticisms of Heinemann readers was that
‘this is not an African woman. People have to decide here what people
should read there.’61
However, as Njoku’s story shows, Debbie does not, in fact, do any-
thing that thousands of ordinary women did not do. The only differ-
ence is that she has a mission – to reach Abosi, the Biafran leader, and
persuade him to stop the War. When she does eventually confront him,
her way of presenting herself lays claim to a class position inherited
from her father: ‘I am me. Debbie, the daughter of Ogedemgbe. Tell
me, if I were a man, a man born almost thirty years ago, a graduate
of politics, sociology and philosophy from Oxford, England, would you
have dismissed my mission?’62 The parameters by which Debbie judges
herself – her father’s status and her foreign education – at Oxford, no
less – suggest that she is not, indeed, a representative ‘African woman’
of her time but a self-conscious exception. In contrast, Rose Njoku, also
a member of the elite, unconsciously subverts the cause she purports to
serve – that of her husband as male ‘hero’. The fact that her husband
is first, Brigade Commander under General Ironsi, then Biafran War
Commander, then detained by Ojukwu as a saboteur, only adds to Rose
Njoku’s problems, since, besides her own and her children’s survival,
she has the added burden of her husband’s absolute dependence on
her – for information, for support, as a go-between. Throughout, she is
alone with her children, surviving on her own resources. Like Debbie
Ogedemgbe, at one point she has a personal interview with Ojukwu to
intercede on her husband’s behalf. The contrast is telling:
I presented my husband’s points as forcefully as the explosive situation could
permit. I did my best to convince him that my husband never intended to
split the loyalty of the troops but that zeal for the common good of the mili-
tary and civilians had influenced all his actions. I told him that their quarrel
had never been personal but official and that every man needed recognition
in his own sphere. I never knew I would be as bold as I was in discussing the
many other areas of their conflict. He also started with a catalogue of what
60
Ibid., 200.
61
Interview with Jane Bryce, London, 21 January 1986.
62
Njoku, Withstand the Storm, 239.
my husband had said to him in the presence of those who owed him much
respect.63
The writer’s self-effacement does not disguise the fact that she was at
the center of events. Yet she makes no claims for herself, continually
harping on her ‘wifely duty’ and rationalizing her husband’s neglect
and, it seems to the reader, at times crass egoism. Yet even with all her
Christian submissiveness, she cannot suppress her resentment that her
husband always puts the army first. The following quotation is typical.
He had absolutely no conception of the mental strain I had been suffer-
ing since that fateful 29 July day. I decided to keep quiet and swallow that
bitter pill. I did not want to mar my gratitude to God for preserving his life.
I was still too excited at my husband’s escape from death to argue or defend
myself. Under normal circumstances, I would have been very sad at such a
seemingly inconsiderate remark.64
This level of self-control is, indeed, ‘heroic’, though it is neither drama-
tized nor presented as such. Emecheta’s novel, by comparison, is charac-
terized by a straining for significance, particularly in the symbol-laden
trek through the jungle in which Debbie carries the baby ‘Biafra’ on her
back. The effect is, in both cases, the opposite of what was intended.
Neither writer explicitly questions the accepted notion of ‘heroism’,
but, by implicit contrast between herself and her husband, Rose Njoku
exemplifies a different (and devalued) feminine manifestation of heroic
qualities. Debbie Ogedemgbe remains a product of her class and a male-
defined ‘exceptional’ woman, doing a man’s job.
63
Ibid., 85.
64
Ibid., 65.
65
Obioma Nnaemeka, ‘Fighting on All Fronts: Gendered Spaces, Ethnic Boundaries, and
the Nigerian Civil War’, Dialectical Anthropology 22:3–4 (1997), 239, 240.
79
Atta, Everything Good, 284.
80
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 211.
81
Ibid., 222.
82
Ibid., 222–223, emphasis added.
87
See, for example, Susannah Radstone: ‘Trauma Theory: Contexts, Politics, Ethics’, Para-
grap. 30:1 (2007), 9–29; and Paul Kirby: ‘How is Rape a Weapon of War? Feminist In-
ternational Relations, Modes of Critical Explanation and the Study of Wartime Sexual
Violence’, European Journal of International Relations, 19:4 (2012), 797–821.
88
Nwachukwu-Agbada, ‘Buchi Emecheta’, 393.
89
Régine Michelle Jean-Charles, ‘Toward a Victim-Survivor Narrative: Rape and Form in
Yvonne Vera’s Under the Tongue and Calixthe Beyala’s Tu t’appelleras Tanga’, Research in
African Literatures, 45:1 (2014), 42.
103
Nwachukwu-Agbada, ‘Buchi Emecheta’, 393.
104
Chimamanda Adichie, Half of a Yellow Sun (New York: Knopf/Anchor, 2006), 362.
105
Ibid.
106
Ibid., 157.
107
Adimora-Ezeigbo, Roses and Bullets, Part 2.
108
Ibid.
109
Ibid., part 4, section 36.
land army’.112 Here, ‘the war’s untold story’ is played out, its heroes
the women who labor daily under the hot sun to grow crops, or answer
the call of the Community Council to shell sacks of groundnuts. As in
Nwapa’s ‘A Certain Death’, where a sister pays a stranger to replace her
brother in the army, the dread of conscription leads Emman’s mother,
Nwalemu, to conceal her younger son from ‘the patriarchs controlling
the war [who] send off to the fighting zone boys armed with sticks’.113
At first, Ogboji seems to offer peace and relative safety. As they return
from the farm, Otaru, the spring where the women stop and bathe, is a
focus of feminine activity, a ‘woman-manned … hive of industry’, with
women cleaning cassava, collecting water, and bathing.114 Immersion
in the water is a source of pleasure and purification for the women,
who leave ‘refreshed, cleansed and invigorated by the healing water of
Otaru’.115
Sacred bodies of water feature in Emecheta’s Destination Biafra and
other novels (the River Niger and the streams of Ibuza) and Nwapa’s
Never Again, as well as Efuru and Idu (the lake presided over by the god-
dess Uhamiri who protects the town of Ugwuta). Though not explicitly
addressed as such, Otaru is another of these sacred waters, signifying
feminine power, fertility, and the collective harmony that has been dis-
rupted by the war. After bathing in the spring, and despite her realiza-
tion that ‘nowhere in Biafra was safe, after all’, when Nwalemu’s son is
conscripted Olewo understands that her role is to use her contacts to
get him back: ‘One should do what one could to stay alive. And do what
was possible to help others stay alive.’116 Nwapa’s Uhamiri is inter-
preted as the spiritual mother who stands in opposition to a patriarchal
Christian god; by the same token, she signifies a traditional feminin-
ity that was sidelined by colonization and is still under threat from a
contemporary masculinist politics driven by greed. Uhamiri is one of
a series of water spirits ranging from tutelary goddesses to Mamiwata
(water goddesses with mermaid-like features), who populate Igbo ico-
nography and appear in the form of female avatars in Nigerian writing,
from Christopher Okigbo, a devotee of the water goddess Idoto, whose
poetry is filled with images of water spirits, to the novels of Adichie and
Ezeigbo. In Half of a Yellow Sun, Okigbo himself is invoked in the figure
of Okeoma, the poet who visits Odenigbo in Nsukka and is captivated by
Olanna whom he describes as a ‘mermaid’, In Roses and Bullets, Eloka,
who becomes Ginika’s husband, first approaches her to ask her to play
‘mermaid, the sea princess’, in the play he has written, titled Mam-
myWata, which he describes as ‘a political allegory of the war between
112
Ibid., 81.
113
Ibid., 168.
114
Ibid., 88.
115
Ibid., 89.
116
Ibid., 97.
117
Adimora-Ezeigbo, Roses and Bullets, Part 1, Ch. 2.
118
See Jane Bryce, ‘“Half and Half Children”: Third-Generation Women Writers and the
New Nigerian Novel’, RAL 39:2 (2008), 49–67, for a more detailed discussion of Half of
a Yellow Sun and the use of traditional tropes.
119
‘Ginikanwa’: ‘Nothing is greater than a child’, www.umuigbo.com/igbo-names/g.html
(accessed February 19, 2015).
120
M. Krishnan, ‘Mami Wata and the Occluded Feminine in Anglophone Nigerian-Igbo Lit-
erature’, 43:1 (2012), 2.
121
Ibid., 15.
122
Kwasi Wiredu, ‘An Oral Philosophy of Personhood: Comments on Philosophy and Oral-
ity’, RAL 40:1 (2009), 16–17.
123
M.C. Onukawa, ‘The Chi Concept in Igbo Gender Naming’, Africa 70:1 (2000), 107.
124
Wiredu, ‘An Oral Philosophy’, 15.
Introduction
War is a subjective experience defined by idealistic whims of leadership
through which leaders seek to maintain a system of ideological par-
ticipation. Further, war is purposeful as one group attempts to destroy
or weaken the other in order to gain greater access and/or control, or
convert the other into a form more beneficial to the dominant group. It
starts as an idealism that results in disruptions such as, victimization,
rebellion, and resistance, and it finally ends in conflict. Often, violence,
victimization, and genocide are major consequences of war ignited in
the ‘spirit of patriotism’.
Nigeria as a nation is vast in territory, diverse in ethnicity and lan-
guage, and has been confronted with issues of disputed borders and
boundaries. With a history of violent conflicts, Nigeria’s first major
experience of political transition was marked by military coups, geo-
political rebellion, and civil war from 1967 to 1970 (indicated as a
nationalist/liberation war with ethnic-political undertones), which
have resulted in historical and fictional literary works. The Civil War
of 1967–1970 was the culmination of the geographical contradic-
tions and political imbalances that existed in the nation since she came
under colonial occupation. The geographical contradictions depict ele-
ments of tribalism/ethnicity, political and ideological ‘accidentals’ of
the Western economic agenda, administrative miscalculations, local
political rivalries, the 1963 census recount, the 1964/65 election, bor-
ders and boundaries disparities, dominant ethnic control, the discovery
of and struggle for control of oil wealth, and individual betrayal and
disillusionment.
This chapter focuses on Buchi Emecheta’s fictionalization of the his-
torical ‘accidentals’ of the 1967–1970 ‘pogrom’ – termed the Biafran
War. Her work focuses on the struggle for national and ethnic identi-
ties, female participation, the negotiation of identity performance,
and conflict resolution. It also focuses on the consequences of these
historical ‘accidentals’ on the current political dispensation from a
futuristic literary perspective. Emecheta’s Destination Biafra (1983),
as a part of a womanly, fictional continuum that helps define national
454
1
Wole Soyinka, The Man Died: Prison Notes of Wole Soyinka (London: Rex Collings, 1973).
2
Elleke Boehmer, ‘Introduction’, in her Stories of Women: Gender and Narrative in the Postco-
lonial Nation (Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 2005), 115.
3
Joya Uraizee, ‘Fragmented Borders and Female Boundary Markers in Buchi Emecheta’s
Destination Biafra’, Journal of the Midwest Modern Language Association 30:1–2 (1997),
16.
4
Edward Said, Orientalism (Atlanta, GA: Vintage Books, 1979), 83.
5
Homi Bhabha, ‘Interrogating Identity: Frantz Fanon and the Postcolonial Prerogative’,
The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 1994).
6
Kwame Anthony Appiah, ‘Is the “Post” in “Postcolonial” the “Post” in “Postmodern”?’
in Dangerous Liaisons: Gender, Nation, and Postcolonial Perspectives, edited by Anne McClin-
tock, Aamir Mufti, and Ella Shohat (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1997),
420.
7
Martin Japtok, ed., ‘Introduction’, Postcolonial Perspectives on Women Writers: From Africa,
the Caribbean and the U.S. (Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 1998), x.
8
Ibid., x–xi.
9
Françoise Lionnet, Postcolonial Representations: Women, Literature, Identity (Ithaca, NY:
Cornell University Press, 1995), 4.
10
Adewale Ademoyega, Why We Struck: The Story of the First Nigerian Coup (Ibadan: Evans
Brothers, 1981), 84, emphasis added.
11
Theodora Ezeigbo, Fact & Fiction in the Literature of the Nigerian Civil War (Lagos: Unity
Publishing & Research, 1991), 15.
12
Elleke Boehmer, ‘Introduction’, 114.
13
Uraizee, ‘Fragmented Borders’, 16.
14
Deniz Kandiyoti, ‘Identity and Its Discontents: Women and Nation’, in Colonial Discourse
and Post-colonial Theory: A Reader, edited by Patrick Williams and Laura Chrisman (New
York: Columbia University Press, 1994), 376–91.
15
Uraizee, ‘Fragmented Borders’, 17.
16
Susan Andrade, ‘The Joys of Daughterhood: Gender, Nationalism, and the Making of
Literary Tradition(s)’, in Cultural Institutions of the Novel, edited by Deidre Lynch and Wil-
liam Warner (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1996), 249–75.
responses, such as rebellion, ethnic distrust, and war. The first sign of
political disconnection and national conflict is marked by the 1964/65
election. This is followed by other forms of conflicts or rebellions such
as the military coup that idealized ‘a new meaning of independence’.17
The idealized utopia ‘Destination Biafra’ projects both individual and
national significance. Each situation and character in the novel nur-
tures a personal meaning of ‘Destination Biafra’.
The individual and national utopia is symbolized by Debbie as the
new African woman, on an identity transformation mission, when she
declares her interest in joining the Army, a male-dominant profession,
in order to contribute to the development of her nation. Her desire is
informed by the political vision of a new world for her society and the
women based on the idealized part within the framework of psycho-
feminist impulses. The military utopia and Debbie’s impulsive idealism
interrogate the implications of independence in the face of new imperi-
alism, and also undercut the political visions of the party leaders, who
are leaders without power: ‘A president without the power.’18
The novelist’s characterization is skeptical of the mainstream of
political transformation, which suggests that the postcolonial project
as a whole is a fraud and is a time bomb about to detonate based on
the various idealized visions and impulses of the characters. The ide-
alized impulses reflect political and sexual fractions, the belief in the
possibility of a future without the imposing presence of the Western
control, and the refraction of past visibility of African women before the
advent of colonialism. Thus, Emecheta’s Destination Biafra is an ironic
questioning of the imperialists’ imaginary civilization project, political
veniality, the conditions of war, the vulnerability of the human soci-
ety to social and political idealization of a group and the viability of a
new-woman image in a patriarchal society. These ironic musings are
played out in the various events that chronicle the war. On the road
to national and female redefinition of identity, the answers are figured
out. The journey motif in the novel, rather than mark a rediscovery or
regeneration, symbolizes the death of innocence, unity, and growth for
Nigeria and the people. Emecheta’s literary work simply acknowledges
that women are intrinsic to national imagination through their articu-
lation as determinate subject positions.
However, within Emecheta’s symbolic representation of the socially
and politically disconnected civilization project of the West, the issue of
nationalism consciously emerges. In fact, the trailblazer of idealism is
the national consciousness for one Nigeria flagged by the imperialists,
the politicians, the Army, and the new-generation women like Debbie.
The narrative is significantly a representation of female perspectives
towards national unity, their participation or long-suffering and, in
17
Buchi Emecheta, Destination Biafra (Glasgow: Fontana and William Collins, 1983), 60
18
Ibid., 34.
‘But are Hausas not greater in number? … Then there is no problem. Intro-
duce democracy, and let the Hausas rule forever. You did say they are not so
ambitious, and they are happy in the Moslem faith?’20
Emecheta sums up the colonialists outlook on the colonized nation by
depicting their perception and lack of understanding of the ethnic ties
and hegemony that exist and also define the colonized political struc-
ture. Governor Macdonald pontificates the imperialist mission and
motif:
19
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 12.
20
Ibid., 7.
I think it’s about time we let them go, but not completely … now is the right
time to introduce the type of government they should have. It means our
type of democracy, may be adjusted here and there to suit the local people.
All independence will give to them is the right to govern themselves. That
has nothing to do with whom they trade with.21
Macdonald’s statement justifies both the mission of colonialism and
postcolonial independence. In this sense, each group strives for domi-
nance and personal gains to the detriment of national development.
The Army, entrusted with the security issues of the nation that ranged
from protection of land and properties to ensuring successful transition
from colonialism to postcolonialism, also carries a flag of nationalism
with connotations. The Army has been involved in governance for 33
years – from the outset of independence – yet the its nationalist com-
mitment is idealized: defined by ethnicity and personal betrayals. The
Army as a national conscious group, proposing a national cleansing of
corrupt politicians and Western type of democracy, is informed by the
patriotic spirit of national development, but individual members exhibit
different notions of nationalism. For Brigadier Onyemere Nwokolo,
Major John, and other majors, it means the ideal independence: the
salvaging of Nigeria from corrupt politicians and British colonialists in
order to create ‘a new Nigeria’ free of the ethnic preposition of Major
Chijioke Abosi. To individuals like Major Abosi, Dr Eze and Dr Ezimba,
nationalism means secession (ethno-nationalism) and regional control
of natural resources predominant in the Mid-Western Region. Major
Abosi ambitiously rides on other nationalists’ vision for a state of Biafra
even at the expense of suffering, pains, and disillusionment of the
people he plans to rule.
The nationalist project of re-imaging Nigeria is thus defined by eth-
nicity – Yoruba, Igbo, and Hausa notions of nationalism, which esca-
lated into an internecine war. The nationalist ambitions of the Eastern
Igbos and Hausas precipitate the conflicts and the civil war: ‘Many Ibos
[sic] in Sabon Garri quarters of the North regard the coup as an Ibo
success and were arrogant in their joy.’22 Thus, the civil war targets the
Igbos in retaliation for their lack of nationalist sacrifice:
An Ibo officer asking me what he has done to deserve this? I will tell you. You
people want to rule the country, don’t you? You rushed into the army, into
the government, into all the lucrative positions in the country, not satisfied
with that you killed all the politicians from other tribes and then your man
the brigadier became self-appointed head of state … going round the regions
preaching ‘One Nigeria’.23
The perceptions and attitudes towards the notion of ‘one Nigeria’ are
21
Ibid., 7.
22
Ibid., 69.
23
Ibid., 82.
24
Ibid., 78–9.
25
Ibid., 74.
26
Mats Utas, ‘Victimcy, Girlfriending, Soldiering: Tactic Agency in a Young Woman’s Social
Navigation of the Liberian War Zone’, Anthropological Quarterly 78:2 (Spring 2005), 404.
27
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 95.
28
Ademoyega, Why we Struck, 160.
29
Ibid., 57.
30
Ibid., 108.
Mind you, it’s more complex than that; I’m only suggesting a simplistic solu-
tion to a complicated problem … Please, Debbie, do this for your country.31
Saka Momoh pinpoints Grey’s insinuation about Debbie’s role in con-
flict resolution and female identity: ‘Your family and his were friends
for a very long time, and of course you were both at Oxford, although
you’re a woman … Not that that should be a handicap. It might help:
you can use your feminine charms to break that icy reserve of his.’32
These two quotations reflect that the definition of female socio-polit-
ical relevance is based on ‘feminine charms’, and from this emerges a
female national figure who fights all odds to reconcile and redefine her
society. However, Emecheta’s portrayal of nationalism and its implica-
tions for women, especially their sexuality, suggests ambivalences in
politics and gender equality in Nigeria. By contrast, towards the end
of the novel, Uzoma Madako, one of the women with whom Debbie is
traveling and shares her travails across the war-torn country, voices the
irony and divergence between the reality and the idealism of national-
ism, the present harsh conditions of war and its implication for women:
A few years ago it was independence, freedom for you, freedom for me: We
[women] were always in the background. Now that freedom has turned into
freedom to kill each other, and our men have left us to bury them and bring
up their children.33
Thus, from the traumatized women’s point of view, nationalist politics
makes up a harsh tale of socio-political conflict and betrayal in which
women have a place only at the beginning and at the end. Madako’s
comment sums up the ambivalence in the male socio-political utopia or
musing: it contrasts the reality with the ideal. It also takes the readers
back to the beginning of the novel when the Army officers deliberated
on the shambles of independence in Major Oladapo’s house.34 Eme-
cheta’s ironic presentation does not challenge the ambivalent position
of women in the socio-political structure; rather it is expressed in the
structure itself.
That is, Biafra as a notion and as a cause is an ironic representation
of Nigerian independence and her political structure: ‘I would rather
say our destination is “Biafra”, since as far as I am concerned, we’re
not yet independent … I think this country needs a military respite, so
to Biafra we will go. Destination Biafra!’35 Biafra symbolizes the discon-
nection in the notion of independence and reconstruction process of
ethnic identity and freedom. The ironic twist is further enhanced by the
internecine war, which is basically a scheme of the Biafran group to
31
Ibid., 114.
32
Ibid., 123.
33
Ibid., 214.
34
Ibid., 60.
35
Ibid., 60.
36
Ibid., 14.
37
Ibid., 161.
38
Marie Umeh, Emerging Perspectives on Buchi Emecheta: Critical and Theoretical Essays
(Trenton, NJ: Africa World Press, 1996), 203.
39
Sangeeta Ray, En-gendering India: Woman and Nation in Colonial and Postcolonial Narratives
(Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press, 2000), 152.
40
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 114.
41
Ibid., 161.
road to Biafra, Debbie and her co-travelers watch soldiers’ grisly rape
of her traveling companions and murder of a pregnant woman.42 The
literary representation of historical tragedies of the war and the victim-
ization awaken a consciousness about the futility of violent conflict: ‘a
conflict waged by brutalized troops, directed by an alienated leadership,
and masterminded by foreign powers’.43 Boehmer’s comment summa-
rizes the entire historical portrayal of a symbolic disconnection in the
noble ideals of Destination Biafra.
As a figure counterbalancing the hopelessness of a national condi-
tion and male idealization, Debbie Ogedemgbe reinterprets the male
notion of Biafra. The new form of national image was integrative, inclu-
sive, tolerant, and motherly – yet equally assertive. Thus, she carries the
burden of a generalized hope for the future having been disillusioned by
the failed concept of Biafra. In other words, rather than being a soldier
in the federal forces, Debbie becomes, in the course of the narrative,
a peacemaker/negotiator in conflict resolution. Emecheta represents
women in the politics of war who, in spite of being its victims, act as
negotiators/peacemakers, and also mop up postcolonial mix-up. Debbie
starts off her symbolic mission to Biafra as a representative of a small
elite, yet learns in the course of the mission to identify with the masses
of women in flight; in the course of their suffering together as women,
bonds form.
Although, she fails to participate in the ‘men’s war’ after joining the
army and, unable to follow the path of her mother by ‘doing something
more than child bearing and being a secretary’, Debbie attains her per-
sonal ‘Biafra’ by being a volunteer to care for war orphans and writ-
ing the memoirs of the war experience.44 Her task, as a victim in a war
of ‘no victor, no vanquished’, is to reconcile maternal values with her
nationalistic instincts and to uncover the reality of male idealization
about nationalism. Florence Stratton affirms in her review of the novel
that what constitutes heroism (nationalism) in a war situation is not
military acts but that which affirms and promotes life.45
In a sense, Emecheta, in representing the history of national conflict,
depicts the resourcefulness of African women especially during crises.
Dovetailing Uzoma Madako’s skeptical comment about conflict resolu-
tion, the Ibuza women in Asaba (Mid-Western) build up their own local
army of female militia, while their men fight for Biafra and the Federal
forces rape their girls.46 Apart from their militant defense strategy, these
women economically sustain themselves amid scarcity by cultivating
new farms and even opening and developing a new trading outlet in
42
Ibid., 136.
43
Ibid., 116.
44
Ibid., 244–6.
45
Florence Stratton, Contemporary African Literature and the Politics of Gender (London:
Routledge, 1994), 123.
46
Emecheta, Destination Biafra, 230.
Upper Volta, as Mrs Elina Eze and Mrs Ozimba did. The economic and
militant resourcefulness of these women runs parallel with Flora Nwa-
pa’s representation of female survival strategy during crisis in Never
Again. The inner strength of these women is a cultural fact that finds
its root in the past history of women’s reaction and responses, like the
Aba Riot or Aba Women’s War of 1929. Thus, the Mid-Western women
negotiate their survival through economic and military strength that is
found lacking in men, who seem to have been bought over by Abosi’s
Biafran skirmishes.
Within the context of negotiation and resourcefulness, Emecheta
presents another quality of women that negates the notion that war is a
solution, thereby mocking the male utopian impulses. This is the hind-
sight and analytic nature of the women. The novelist implicates that
women are better political strategists who, by virtue of their maternal
nature, both anticipate the unexpected and oftentimes guard against
it. Mesdames Eze, Ozimba, and Ogedemgbe discover new trade links for
making money and surviving during the crisis. These links, to Upper
Volta and Gabon, provide the Ozimbas and Mrs Eze an escape before Dr
Eze’s arrest. Mrs Eze’s resourcefulness, hindsight, and perception of the
motives behind the war are voiced as she asks her husband to forget the
Biafran War, because it is a holocaust not a destination to a new identity
and, to her, the holocaust is the result of oil. For this reasons, she pre-
empts the failure of Biafra:
He will not win this war … Come and let us escape together. It wouldn’t be
betrayal. He has lost. We have lost … But they have taken all our oil lands
… Even if we win now, how can we maintain a Biafra without a drop of oil?
Wasn’t the oil the reason for all this mess in the first place?47
The war is all about oil. The male utopic destination Biafra is all about
oil. Mrs Eze’s hindsight and courage are belied in her maternal instinct
to survive, protect, and even forgive all wrong doing of the men. The
strength of character and courage of the women is further contrasted
in her view about the war and the male idealism of Dr Eze:
Pity at the shortsightedness of her husband and his sex came over Elina.
How could grown men make such blunders, and yet elevate themselves
with such arrogance that one could not reach them to tell them the truth?
She did not want to perish with him … Yet the maternal thing inside her
made her pity this childish man who thought he knew all. She forgave him
his foolishness, just as she would many times forgive her own son.48
Emecheta’s authorial classification of men as childish people who
live in the world of dreams is to condemn the male-dominant power
derived from tradition and colonialism. To her, the male power conceals
47
Ibid., 252–3.
48
Ibid., 253.
an inner weakness that reflects their fear of failure, greed, and short
sight. Indeed, Dr Eze hallucinates his ‘greedy’ Biafra – marked by oil
wealth, power, and betrayal of the many believers (dead and living)
in Biafra. The purpose of this contrastive representation of male and
female ideological views regarding the war is to depict the shallowness
of patriarchal identity and to represent female identity in its depth,
strength, and resourcefulness. Symbolically, the female identity repre-
sentation reflects the nation Nigeria, whose patriarchal ‘childish’ ideal-
ism is bastardized and betrayed. In other words, given the opportunity
on a fair-play ground, women are depicted as rational political analysts
and economic strategists, rather than as emotional amazons.
The oil that indirectly motivates the conflict also informs the greed
and corrupt desires of the major players in the war politics. Major Abosi
is aware of the controlling power the oil in the western Igbo region will
accord him, especially over the Western superior presence. His utopian
view of war is similar to that of the politicians and nationalists who
initially demanded independence for Nigeria. Chijioke Abosi’s vision
of Biafra ‘the symbol of Biafra’ is captured in Dr Eze’s dreams about
his Biafra, ‘which would be the richest land for black people, where
he would be so wealthy that he would not know what to do with the
money, where he would be so powerful that Europeans from all over the
world would come to seek his friendship’.49 The natural resources that
should have provided a basis for development and unity become the
symbolic motif for destruction. The symbolism of ‘oil’ implies divergent
implications and responses and these are prophetically summed up by
the thoughts of Alan Grey:
After all, his mission is complete. Nigeria had been successfully handed
over to the approved leader, Saka Momoh. The fact that he came from the
minority tribe, and had an ample supply of guns and bombs, would stabilize
his position. Nigeria badly needed that stability to allow foreign investors to
come in and suck out the oil. Nigeria would need the money, too, to repay
the debts she owed the ‘friendly nations’ for their generosity in supplying her
with arms, during the time when one tribe was fighting against the other.50
This statement categorizes the idealism in nationalist discourse on
war and establishes the disconnection in attaining an ideal society. The
essence of the Nigeria-Biafra War is motivated by political struggle to
control the economic resources of the nation. The author, using the
technique of authorial intrusion, implicates men for destroying the soci-
ety, and she expresses her anti-imperialist stand on Grey’s view of the
war as an imperialist, ‘post-contact’ overture to decenter the nation in
order to continue the colonizers’ mission of being the all-seeing god, the
49
Ibid., 253.
50
Ibid., 259.
white people from whom ‘the black people could not hide [anything]’.51
The war is about the oil and the conflict of control wrapped up in the
aborted ideals of utopic ‘destination to Biafra’ that hinders any ‘post-
contact’ development in Nigeria to date, such as, incessant security
threats occasioned by terror attacks and kidnapping in the Niger Delta,
pollution, and corruption. Thus, at the end of the narrative, the major
male characters in the conflict fail to contribute positively to nation
rebuilding while the women suffer in the spin-off of the war and, in
fact, mop up the mess caused by oil and politics of oil and ethnicity. For
instance, Debbie is asked by Alan Grey to ‘do your woman bit tonight’
in ensuring Abosi surrenders. Debbie, however, harnesses her negotiat-
ing power and draws up the initially misplaced motherly instinct for the
can-do-assertiveness by taking up the duty of caring for the orphaned
children of war, and documenting the narrative about ‘a part of life’ of
a people.52
Conclusion
Destination Biafra is an overview of several factors that undermine
development in Nigeria. But particularly, it is a female perspective of
the historical narrative of Nigeria-Biafra War and acknowledgement of
the unsung heroines and victims of war: the forgotten. This is captured
in Debbie’s question in the novel about whether the participation of
women like herself, Babs, Uzoma, and the nuns in Biafra would ever be
ever mentioned at all.53
The novel performs two ideological roles: to bring to awareness the
plight of women’s experience of the war, and to challenge male idealism
that constructs the notion of nationalism. Writing from a diametrically
opposing stance to the dominant gender idealism about nationhood,
Emecheta represents the reality of the war from the female perspective,
using a meta-narrative approach that sets to bring to consciousness the
post-war conditions in Nigeria and female power. The novel is prophetic
apart from being a historical memoir of the war. Regarding utopian
visions, it calls to mind in a prophetic way, the implications of the notion
of patriotism, especially now that Nigeria has returned to democracy,
and more than five decades after independence. Nationalism/patriotism
to Emecheta is affirmation and promotion of life. However, the infant
democratic dispensation is besieged by political issues that sparked the
war of 1967–1970 and marked the 33 years military interregnum.
One major factor the author projects in this narrative is the maternal
quality in female leadership distinct from the men, which is propelled by
patriarchal dominance and quest for power. This is seen in Alan Grey’s
51
Ibid., 158.
52
Ibid., 255.
53
Ibid., 195.
closing remarks about the civil war and Debbie’s personal odyssey and
her efforts in the aftermath to reconcile victims.
Biafra in this context becomes a baby aborted by patriarchal idealistic
vision as a result of the seeds of ethnicity, economic power, and politi-
cal divergence planted by the colonizers and entrenched by Nigerians.
In the present dispensation, Nigeria is still watering and nurturing the
seeds of ethnicity and underdevelopment while dealing with issues of
electoral malpractices and corrupt politicians, and the fierce struggle
over oil that precipitated the conflict in the Niger Delta; these struggles
also spur insecurity, terrorism, and ethnic cleansing. The civil war is a
historical reality that is ‘a part of life’, which all ethnic groups, how-
ever, treat like leprosy. The failure to address the 1967–1970 discon-
nection has created elements of ethnic distrust and vendetta, especially
between the Northern and Eastern ethnic groups. The constant trigger
of conflicts between these groups is framed as religious, but in reality, is
an ethnic/political vendetta that has existed since the civil war of 1967.
The disconnection is thus that the past cannot be separated from the
present and, unless the past errors/omissions are addressed, they will
continue to plague the present and truncate the future.
Apart from the complications of an aborted idealism, women’s par-
ticipation, sacrifices, and negotiation – particularly by the people like
Debbie, the women of Ibuza, Mrs Madako, the children, and other
victims of the war – are unsung, without any reparation ever made.
The failure to acknowledge these victims and the issues that caused the
war perhaps is still responsible for the disparity in politics and power in
twenty-first century ‘post-contact’ Nigeria.
To further complicate the ‘post-contact’ disconnection, the reality of
the historical aspect of the Nigeria-Biafra War has been deleted from
the high school curriculum in order to simplify its implication on con-
temporary perceptions particularly among the youth, and to override
ethnic motivations. This move implies that history of the war is lost
except in the memories of the participants and victims, and that means
that a particular aspect of national identity is lost. Researches like this
one can serve to document the past events and as a reference for resolv-
ing more-recent conflicts/threats of war. Literary fiction, at this junc-
ture, functions as the custodian of the history of human development
in postcolonial Nigeria and offers a bridge through negotiation in the
gap of ethnic differences.
Books
Abani, Chris. GraceLand: A Novel. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004.
Achebe, Chinua. The Problem with Nigeria. Enugu: Fourth Dimension, 1983.
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486
Calabar 112, 130, 162, 257, 259, 275, Fajuyi, Col. Adekunle 84, 122, 132,
417 365, 467, 470
Caritas 62, 112 Fani-Kayode, Remilekun 181
Churchill, Winston S. 54, 58 Fay, Rev. Fr. Myles 312, 313
Clifford, Sir Geoffrey Miles 38 Ferguson, Clyde 191
Cold War 41, 50, 51, 65, 66, 70, 79 Forsyth, Frederick 176, 219, 224, 274,
The Colonel 380, 381, 382, 391, 393, 275, 404, 405, 406, 412
394, 396, 397, 398 France 62, 69, 70, 72, 112, 214, 330,
Congo 66, 467 343, 347, 348
Constitutional conference, 1950 44 Friends of Nigeria 28
Cookey, Prof. Sylvanus J. 94, 95
Cronje, Suzanne 176, 410, 411, 412, Gabon 65, 81, 202, 330, 335, 336, 351
413, 422 Gender issues 403–76
Cumming-Bruce, Francis 32 Germany 70, 72, 214, 338, 340, 343,
Czechoslovakia 202, 343 348
Ghana 66, 122, 133, 161, 163, 185,
Debbie 361, 365, 366, 371, 372, 375, 311
377, 378, 437, 438, 439, 441, Goodell, Senator Charles E. 70, 189
442, 443, 445, 446, 450, 463, Gowon, Yakubu 31, 33, 34, 37, 39, 40,
464, 465, 467, 468, 469, 470, 48, 50, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 61,
471, 472 84, 122, 124, 126, 127, 128, 132,
Decree number 34 see unification 133, 142, 143, 144, 146, 147,
decree 148, 154, 157, 158, 171, 172,
Dublin 286, 294, 300 184, 185, 186, 187, 191, 216,
Dukana 232, 233, 234, 235, 236, 237, 217, 224, 225, 229, 270, 272,
238, 239, 240, 243, 244 273, 296, 323, 365, 366, 374,
Dunn, Charles W. 70 378, 406, 412, 413, 431, 459,
Durosaro see Akintola, Samuel Ladoka 468, 470, 474
Grey, Capt. Alan 363, 365, 443, 445–6, Lumumba, Patrice 66, 321, 322
465, 468–70, 474–5
Macdonald, Governor see Robertson, Sir
Haiti 62, 65, 66, 81, 330 James Wilson
Hamisi 318, 319, 320, 321, 322, 323, Macpherson Constitution 23, 46
324, 325 Macpherson, John 365
Haruna, Ibrahim 184, 189, 190, 191 Madiebo, Alexander 171, 182, 204,
Henk, Capt. 348, 350 209, 210, 212, 213–29, 415, 416
Herebefore 315, 318, 322, 324, 325 Mailamari, Brig. 216, 220
Hunt, David 32, 51, 53, 56, 57, 58 Mamiwata 452
Mbadiwe, Dr. K. O. 58, 180, 265, 365,
Ibadan 30, 44, 84, 122, 125, 141 466, 473, 474
Ibiam, Sir Francis 58, 220 Mbanefo, Sir Louis 58, 108
Ibuza 370, 376, 440, 461, 469, 472, Mbano 443, 449
476 Mbakwe, Chief Samuel 58
Ifedi, Obiora 331, 332, 334, 339, 340, Mene 232, 233, 236, 238, 239
348, 349 Mitchell 305, 306
Igboba, Maj. 216 Mojekwu, C. C. 106
Ikeja 84, 216 Momoh, Saka see Gowon, Yakubu
Ikoku, Alvan 45, 58 Muhammed, Lt. Col. Murtala 183, 184,
Ikot-Ekpene 63, 277, 431 190, 191
Ikwerre 283, 443
Ireland 62, 286, 288–9, 292, 295, 296, The National Guidance Committee 85,
300, 303, 306, 308, 309 94
Irish parliamentary debate 78 NCNC 25, 28, 82, 120, 131, 132, 137,
Israel 62, 102, 330 262, 366
Ivory Coast 62, 65, 81, 111, 122, 202, Ndem, Prof. Eyo Bassey 106
330, 423 Niger Delta 230, 231, 232, 235, 237,
Iweka, Chief Tobias 332, 334 238, 239, 240, 241, 242, 243,
244, 423, 460
Kaduna 30, 45, 84, 220, 331, 408 Niger, Bridge 63
Kaduna, Lt. Col. Hassan Usman 133 Niger, River 376
Kainene 274, 281, 282, 442, 445, 447, Nigeria
452 Benue-Plateau State 54
Kano 30, 54, 84, 158 Colony and Protectorate of Lagos 43
Kano, Nguru see Balewa, Sir Tafawa Demarcation of 23
Katsina, Usman 184, 187 East-Central State 54
King of Beggars 380, 381, 382, 383, Eastern Region 28, 36, 37, 40, 44,
392, 393, 394, 396, 397, 398 47, 49, 52, 53, 54, 81, 83, 84, 106,
Kirk-Greene 406, 407 111, 122, 124, 125, 126, 127,
Kogbara, Ignatius I. 106 128, 129, 131, 132, 133, 138,
Kutzenov, Arthur 345, 346 139, 141, 143, 147, 150, 152,
154, 155, 156, 157, 159, 161,
Lagos 21, 30, 43, 44, 51, 84, 125, 130, 162, 164, 183, 184, 218, 228,
150, 154, 157, 213, 272, 286, 230, 237, 239, 241, 249, 260,
361, 370, 383, 395, 412, 443 265, 270, 271, 273, 286, 310,
Last, Murray 174, 175, 186, 273 367, 404
Legislative Council 213 First Republic 18, 23, 25, 26, 28,
Legum, Colin 30, 37, 49 131, 154, 217, 262
Lennon, John 71, 72 Indigenization Decree 259
Liberia 423, 467 Mid-Western Region 25, 47, 54, 121,
Libreville see Gabon 154, 183, 218, 230, 257, 263, 404
Lord Selbourne Committee Report 23 Mid-Western State 54, 230
Lugard, Lord Frederick Daltry 18, 19, Nigeria-Biafra War
24, 43, 326 Arms dealing 59, 60
Books on 170–7, 200–6, 209–399, 155, 156, 158, 161, 162, 163,
405–22, 424–76 164, 165
Casualty figures 62 Niger Coast Protectorate 43
Coups 6, 20, 21, 27, 46, 48, 83, 111, Nixon, Richard M. 69, 71, 188, 191,
129, 132, 134, 178, 182, 183, 202
184, 185, 186, 210, 218, 219, Njoku, Col. Hilary 182
221, 220, 224, 225, 227, 248, Njoku, Rose 12, 437, 438, 445
250, 252, 253, 270, 407, 431 Nkrumah, Kwame 66, 323, 322
Duration of 1, 6, 36, 40, 111, 130, NNA 27, 249, 255
211, 314, 403, 404, 415, 454, Nnewi 225, 226
459, 475 NNDP 25, 27, 120, 121, 250, 366
Election boycott 27 North-Central State 54
Igbo massacre 20, 26, 27, 29, 30, North-Eastern State 54
34, 46, 48, 51, 61, 73, 83, 111, North-Western State 54
121, 134, 164, 170, 184, 186, Northern Elements Progressive
187, 191, 202, 203, 204, 218, Union 262
248, 252, 253, 256, 285, 305, Northern Protectorate 40, 43, 213
371, 413, 414 Northern Region 37, 44, 45, 47, 49, 54,
Independence, declaration of 26, 36, 82, 83, 128, 129, 131, 132, 133,
286 135, 136, 137, 141, 143, 150,
International involvement, theories 152, 154, 156, 157, 161, 162,
65–70 181, 218, 228, 239, 255
Islamic factor 25, 31 NPC 25, 28, 82, 120, 121, 131, 132,
Fodio, Uthman Dan 227 135, 136
Boko Haram 174, 182, 459 Nsukka 331, 370
Minor Ethnic Groups, effect on 230– Nsukka, University of 271, 285, 377,
44, 265–83 414, 449
National Census Crises 27, 214, 454 Nwankwo, Lt. Andrew 184, 203
Newspaper involvement 130–65 Nwapa, Flora 12, 426, 427, 428, 429,
Operation Hiroshima xvi 431, 432, 433, 434, 435, 436,
Operation Tail Wind xvi 437, 444, 445, 451, 460, 461,
Operation Tiger Claw xvi 462, 473
Secession, date of xvi, 33, 35, 57 Nwokolo, Brig. Onyemere see Nzeogwu,
Start of 36 Major Chukwuma K.
Starvation, use of 187, 188 Nwomah, Everly 348, 349
State of emergency xvi, 28 Nzeogwu, Major Chukwuma K. 27, 28,
Theories on 41–2, 114–20, 123–9 47, 48, 121, 132, 178, 215, 219,
War fronts xvi, 63, 370 220, 221, 222, 227, 228, 248,
Newspapers 249, 251, 330, 331, 365, 375,
Daily Service 131 376, 431, 459, 466
Eastern Outlook 133, 163
Morning Post 133, 134, 135, 137, OAU 30, 31, 33, 37, 66
140, 141, 143, 144, 146, 150, Obanikoro 45
151, 165 Obasanjo, Olusegun 170, 171, 188,
New Nigerian 131, 133, 134, 135, 214, 219, 417, 431
138, 142, 143, 144, 145, 147, Obelenwata, Prof. Chancellor 332, 334,
148, 149, 152, 153, 154, 155, 335, 341, 348, 349
157, 158, 159, 160, 162, 163, 164 Odenigbo 7, 278
Nigerian Citizen 131 Odomosu see Awolowo, Chief Obafemi
Nigerian Tribune 131, 134, 135, 139, Ogbanje 452
144, 146, 148, 149, 151, 153, Ogedengbe see Okotie-Eboh
156, 160, 161 Ogoja 162, 274
West African Pilot 131, 134, 137, Ogoni 205, 231, 243, 244, 265, 275,
138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 283, 327
144, 146, 149, 150, 151, 153, Ogun 386, 387, 388, 389, 391, 395
Uli, Airport 81, 85, 188, 288, 290, 291, UPGA 28, 132, 178, 249, 251, 262
298, 301, 311 Uyo 274
Umuahia 63
Unegbu, Maj. Arthur 182, 219, 220 Western Region 25, 44, 47, 54, 81, 83,
Unification Decree 83, 132, 134, 136, 125, 126, 131, 132, 137, 156, 157,
137, 138, 139, 141, 142, 143, 222 161, 164, 182, 183, 184, 218, 239,
United Kingdom 68 249, 250, 255, 363, 364, 467
United Nations Western State 54
Beijing Conference 1985 411 Wilson, Harold 31, 32, 33, 38, 39, 50,
Security Council 65 52, 57, 74, 191
United States 38, 62, 63, 65, 66, 68,
69, 70, 71, 72, 76, 111, 122, 338, Zambia 65, 81, 202, 330
344, 345, 367, 412, 413 Zaria 84, 136
Writing the
EZEKWEM
FALOLA &
Edited by
The Nigeria-Biafra War lasted from 6 July 1966 to 15 January 1970, during
which time the postcolonial Nigerian state fought to bring the Eastern
Nigeria-
region, which had seceded as the State or Republic of Biafra, back into the
newly independent but ethnically and ideologically divided nation. This
volume examines the trends and methodologies in the civil war writings,
both fictional and non-fictional, and is the first to analyse in detail the
War
Half of a Yellow Sun was preceded by works by Ken Saro-Wiwa, Elechi
Amadi, Kole Omotoso, Wole Soyinka, Flora Nwapa, Buchi Emecheta, Edited by
Chukwuemeka Ike and Chris Abani, and strongly convey the horrific TOYIN FALOLA &
human cost of the war on individuals and their communities. The non- OGECHUKWU EZEKWEM
fictional accounts, including Chinua Achebe’s last work, There Was a
Country, are biographies, personal accounts and essays on the causes and
course of the war, its humanitarian crises, and the collaboration of foreign
nations. The contributors examine writers’ and protagonists’ use of
contemporary published texts as a means of continued resistance and
justification of the war, the problems of objectivity encountered in memoirs
and how authors’ backgrounds and sources determine the kinds of biases
that influenced their interpretations, including the gendered divisions in
Nigeria-Biafra War scholarship and sources. By initiating a dialogue on the
civil war literature, this volume engages in a much-needed discourse on the
problems confronting a culturally diverse post-war Nigeria.
Toyin Falola is the Jacob and Frances Sanger Mossiker Chair in the
Humanities and University Distinguished Teaching Professor at the
University of Texas at Austin; Ogechukwu Ezekwem is a PhD student in
the Department of History, University of Texas at Austin.
Cover image: Niger Delta Militancy II. Mixed Media. 2011 (24"x30") by dele jegede
(reproduced by kind permission of the artist © dele jegede)
JAMES CURREY
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