(Excerpts from a public lecture titled:
“Intellectualism and the Development of a People,” which he delivered at the
Federal University of Techlonogy Owerri (FUTO) Feb. 8, 2016
Recent Igbo Experience
Before the Nigeria-Biafra war, the intellectual was pride of the
Igboman. There was a time when those who had University degree at all were
celebrated in Igboland as great intellectuals and heroes. Apart from those
among them who play some useful roles in political leadership and activism —
Nnamdi Azikiwe, Michael Iheonukara Okpara, Francis Akanu Ibiam, Mbonu Ojike —
there were also others who were admired and respected just for their
intellectual stature: Chike Obi, Kenneth Onwuka Dike, Chinua Achebe, Alvan
Ikoku. Time was when to be called “nne lawyer” or “nne doctor” was the dream of
many women in some parts of Igboland. A story is told of a day in the 1960s in
which news went round Otu Onitsha that Prof. Kenneth Dike was in town and many
traders quickly closed their stalls as they rushed to grab an opportunity of
setting their eyes on this revered intellectual. Then came the war, the
blockade, the starvation, the surrender, the humiliation and the economic
emasculation. Despite the beautiful slogan, “No victor, no vanquished,” there
was (and still is) a clear plan to crush the presumably rebellious Igbo spirit
and, thus, shatter the myth of the resilient Igboman. But the Igbo fought back.
Since they were left with nothing, having been stripped to the bare skin of all
the material wealth they had acquired before the war by the post-war Nigerian
government, their foremost battle was for survival in a Nigeria that neither
wanted them in its fold nor would it let them go. As I already mentioned at the
beginning, “No condition is permanent” became their motto, painted boldly on
walls, kiosks, hand-pushed trucks and ramshackle boxes on four or six wheels,
which they called cars and Lorries. Onitsha, especially the Main Market, was
the nerve-centre of this Igbo struggle for economic revival.
Soon a new set of social icons emerged, namely, the rich. They were celebrated in songs, decorated with all forms of spurious “traditional” titles and hoisted as flags for the young to behold, to venerate and to emulate. Perhaps some of them deserved the adulation, for to rise from abject poverty to being a multimillionaire in a couple of years takes much more than good luck. But the toll the Igbo people have paid in values for this has been enormous. Now money and what money can buy seem to be all that matter (o ego k’o y’eli — it will only cost money). Even our proverbial egalitarianism and republicanism seem to have disappeared as the super rich became the “owners” of the community (ndi nwe obodo), at least so they claimed, and their praise-singers reminded those who were in doubt that the community or town indeed belonged to some people (a na-enwe obodo enwe).
Anybody who observes the way most political office holders are now selected in Igboland and what they do with our money when they are in office will wonder why that song— “a na-enwe obodo enwe” — has not yet become a kind of Igbo national anthem, for we have collectively sold our birthrights to those who have “hard currency” to spray.
Before long, the only-money-counts attitude found its way into the precincts of the Churches and, through harvests, bazaars and the unending fund-raising programmes for the innumerable Church projects, it gradually moved right into the sanctuary. From the sanctuaries it has exploded like a petrol tank on fire, spilling its content into massive open air rallies, crusades and fanfares of the miracle industries and mega-markets, where the insecure wealthy class, the distressed youth and the miserable victims of the reckless pillage of our national wealth by an unscrupulous political class collectively fund the extravagance of some self-appointed redeemers. Ego! What can money not buy now from an Igboman and in Igbo land? What does the Igboman not believe that he can buy with money? After all, o ego k’o y’eli. And if only money counts, why would any sane Igbo person invest in the intellectual culture except it is also a sure way of making much money?
What about our Universities and other institutes of higher education? “The University,” says Kyari Tijani, is the arena per [sic] excellence where the intellectual displays his wares and makes his living. Sure, the late Prof. Tijani was being metaphorical in his use of terms. Nevertheless, this imagery, as beautiful as it is, could be problematic in a country like Nigeria, especially among people like the Igbo, who seem to have reduced everything in life to buying and selling. It is no secret that for many people, the Universities and other institutions of higher learning in Nigeria have today literally become extensions of Otu Onitsha, Alaba International Market or Wuse Market, where not just books and hand-outs but also admissions, grades and even degrees are up for sale to any person at all who has the cash to pay. This cash-and carry attitude adopted by some members of the University community in Nigeria has de-motivated many of our hard-working youths and demoralized our real intellectuals. Other forms of inducement apart from money, which are now allegedly used to obtain marks and, consequently, degrees in our Universities, are not worthy of mention in this dignified congregation of intellectuals.
Reflecting on what has happened to the Igbo psyche since after the Nigeria-Biafra war, I am tempted to assume that the single most influential institution in post-war Igboland is neither the Christian Church nor the University of Nigeria Nsukka, but the Onitsha Main Market (Otu Onitsha). It seems to have formed our mentality and created our heroes, ideals and values. Although not all the eze-egos (money monarchs) in Igbo land today made their wealth at the Onitsha market, it appears to have set the tune of what has become the preferred music for most Igbo people today. It seems too that the nearer one draws to the Otu, the louder that music is heard, in spite of the array of distinguished intellectuals that the area has so far produced. If Prof. Kenneth Dike were to venture nearing the area today, he would be lucky if he is not knocked into the gutter by an okada rider or keke operator, except, of course, he was there for a money-spraying spree in the name of political campaign. My hope is that, since this position of mine is a result only of impressions and suppositions, rather than of research and study, sometime very soon, our sociologists, using the correct methods and the appropriate tools, will take a critical look at contemporary Igbo society and prove me wrong. Nobody will be happier than to know that on this issue I was dead wrong in my assessment of my people. Until then, let no one try to console me by pointing out that these ills are found all over Nigeria, not only among the Igbo. For other Nigerians are wont to accuse the Igbo of having spread the only-money-counts virus (including the culture of “settling”) to the rest of the country.
Soon a new set of social icons emerged, namely, the rich. They were celebrated in songs, decorated with all forms of spurious “traditional” titles and hoisted as flags for the young to behold, to venerate and to emulate. Perhaps some of them deserved the adulation, for to rise from abject poverty to being a multimillionaire in a couple of years takes much more than good luck. But the toll the Igbo people have paid in values for this has been enormous. Now money and what money can buy seem to be all that matter (o ego k’o y’eli — it will only cost money). Even our proverbial egalitarianism and republicanism seem to have disappeared as the super rich became the “owners” of the community (ndi nwe obodo), at least so they claimed, and their praise-singers reminded those who were in doubt that the community or town indeed belonged to some people (a na-enwe obodo enwe).
Anybody who observes the way most political office holders are now selected in Igboland and what they do with our money when they are in office will wonder why that song— “a na-enwe obodo enwe” — has not yet become a kind of Igbo national anthem, for we have collectively sold our birthrights to those who have “hard currency” to spray.
Before long, the only-money-counts attitude found its way into the precincts of the Churches and, through harvests, bazaars and the unending fund-raising programmes for the innumerable Church projects, it gradually moved right into the sanctuary. From the sanctuaries it has exploded like a petrol tank on fire, spilling its content into massive open air rallies, crusades and fanfares of the miracle industries and mega-markets, where the insecure wealthy class, the distressed youth and the miserable victims of the reckless pillage of our national wealth by an unscrupulous political class collectively fund the extravagance of some self-appointed redeemers. Ego! What can money not buy now from an Igboman and in Igbo land? What does the Igboman not believe that he can buy with money? After all, o ego k’o y’eli. And if only money counts, why would any sane Igbo person invest in the intellectual culture except it is also a sure way of making much money?
What about our Universities and other institutes of higher education? “The University,” says Kyari Tijani, is the arena per [sic] excellence where the intellectual displays his wares and makes his living. Sure, the late Prof. Tijani was being metaphorical in his use of terms. Nevertheless, this imagery, as beautiful as it is, could be problematic in a country like Nigeria, especially among people like the Igbo, who seem to have reduced everything in life to buying and selling. It is no secret that for many people, the Universities and other institutions of higher learning in Nigeria have today literally become extensions of Otu Onitsha, Alaba International Market or Wuse Market, where not just books and hand-outs but also admissions, grades and even degrees are up for sale to any person at all who has the cash to pay. This cash-and carry attitude adopted by some members of the University community in Nigeria has de-motivated many of our hard-working youths and demoralized our real intellectuals. Other forms of inducement apart from money, which are now allegedly used to obtain marks and, consequently, degrees in our Universities, are not worthy of mention in this dignified congregation of intellectuals.
Reflecting on what has happened to the Igbo psyche since after the Nigeria-Biafra war, I am tempted to assume that the single most influential institution in post-war Igboland is neither the Christian Church nor the University of Nigeria Nsukka, but the Onitsha Main Market (Otu Onitsha). It seems to have formed our mentality and created our heroes, ideals and values. Although not all the eze-egos (money monarchs) in Igbo land today made their wealth at the Onitsha market, it appears to have set the tune of what has become the preferred music for most Igbo people today. It seems too that the nearer one draws to the Otu, the louder that music is heard, in spite of the array of distinguished intellectuals that the area has so far produced. If Prof. Kenneth Dike were to venture nearing the area today, he would be lucky if he is not knocked into the gutter by an okada rider or keke operator, except, of course, he was there for a money-spraying spree in the name of political campaign. My hope is that, since this position of mine is a result only of impressions and suppositions, rather than of research and study, sometime very soon, our sociologists, using the correct methods and the appropriate tools, will take a critical look at contemporary Igbo society and prove me wrong. Nobody will be happier than to know that on this issue I was dead wrong in my assessment of my people. Until then, let no one try to console me by pointing out that these ills are found all over Nigeria, not only among the Igbo. For other Nigerians are wont to accuse the Igbo of having spread the only-money-counts virus (including the culture of “settling”) to the rest of the country.
To be continued.
No comments:
Post a Comment