The Scorned Bride

In Nigeria, when a woman gets married, the substance of her paternal home often influences the type of treatment she receives from her husband and his family. If she comes from an affluent, powerful home, she is likely to be treated with more deference than if she comes from a poor home in which her husband is probably subsidising her family's subsistence. The husband's family understands that if they treat a daughter from a respected affluent home badly, they have to contend with her family. The family may retrieve their daughter, if she is not fairly treated and the fringe benefits of the union are then lost by the man. Sometimes, even if the woman is very industrious and the bread winner in the family, she is still subjected to very harsh conditions by her husband, because he believes he has authority over her, and his in-laws are poor and "nobodies". All the wealth acquired by the woman are in her husband's name and she gets no credit for it. In most Igbo (a tribe from Southeastern part of Nigeria) communities, a married woman cannot buy property in her name. If she agitates too loudly for fairer treatment, her husband sometimes threatens to 'send her packing', or throw her out of 'his house'. So, keep quiet, she must, because all her possessions are tied to this man, or risk returning to her paternal home scorned, where once married, she is no longer welcome, except as a visitor, no inheritance in her father's home. Remember her father is of meagre means anyway, and she has now become accustomed to the lifestyle she has built jointly with her husband. Where will she go?

Nigeria's union has recently been termed a marriage. Let us for a minute view Nigeria as a marriage with Igbos as a hard working bride (this is a polygamous marriage) from humble beginnings. Believing that marriage is "till death do us  part", all wealth acquired by the Igbos are in different parts of the nations, but hardly in the East. The promise of the union is an entire country (she has left her parents and joined to her groom 'till death do them part'). Alas, whenever the Igbo bride perceives she is unfairly treated, and  complains, she is threatened. When the Igbos clamour for their rights or a fairer share of the pie, they are threatened. Every time Igbos show a tendency as  group, they are threatened. The husband threatens to 'throw her out of his home'. The recent agitations of a group called the Indigineous People of Biafra (IPOB), has attracted a lot of national attention, even made more notorious because of the detention of Nnamdi Kanu, one of the IPOB leaders. Most Nigerians are unclear about what the agitations are for. These agitations have however, led to an ultimatum issued to the Igbos by two youth groups - one in the North and one in the South West. Shut up!..or leave. In fact in the North, the bride has been asked to 'pack out' the 15^th of September 2017. The question is, ‘why do these 'youth' (Arewa and Oduduwa groups) feel so emboldened as to issue these unconstitutional ultimatums?’  I daresay, because they believe that if Igbos leave, they will have access to the assets that the Igbos have acquired, and have more resources to enjoy. This is not a conjecture. They clearly stated that they would reclaim all Igbo assets owned or leased, at the expiration of the ultimatum (http://www.vanguardngr.com/2017/06/igbo-quit-notice-fg-northern-govs-slam-arewa-youths/). They believe they have nothing to lose and everything to gain, because like the abusive husband in the analogy above, all the wealth was acquired in the marriage name, and the bride's family has no wealth or power.

If you are Igbo, you cannot afford to do nothing. The ultimate outcome of a few people's actions affects you. As the flames are being stoked, sticking your head in the sand and pretending it does not concern you, is like a man whose flesh has become gangrenous, but continues to walk about seemingly oblivious, spraying perfume on the rotten flesh. Eventually, the rot will eat you up. So, what's an Igbo man/woman to do? As a people, the Igbos need to look beyond individual development and be strategic. The truth is, whether you keep quiet, or you engage, when all hell breaks loose, you will be identified as Igbo first, and whatever treatment is meted to Igbos will be given to you. So, how do we navigate out of this mess? This is a question all Igbos should ask themselves as this matter unfolds? I have done so, and will share in the next few paragraphs my musings.

DEVELOP THE SEA (South Eastern Agenda)

Igbos must strategically decide to beef up their bargaining power by building a position of relative strength. How? We must develop the Southeast as a unit, as a matter of strategic urgency. It is true that at this time, there is more money to be made by running businesses in the big cities all over Nigeria (Lagos, Abuja, Kano), but investing resources in a place that can kick you out at the drop of a hat, and retain those resources, when you have no fall-back plan, can be at best termed an unwise decision. Especially when historically this has happened before.  The reaction of Igbos to the aftermath of the civil war, was to build mansions in the east. Why? Because many affluent Igbo people had no home to return to, when they fled other parts of Nigeria during the war. Then, they realized the need to build a home first in the Southeast. This is why Igbo mothers nag their children born during or after the war, or who were too young to understand, to build a home in the village first. To a cosmopolitan Nigerian of Southeastern origin, fifty-five and under, it does not make financial sense. Why tie down precious capital building a house in the village, where if you are lucky, you spend only two weeks in a year? It seems like an unwise move financially. You can put the money to work in the big cities and get higher yields. However, if you do a risk assessment, adding the risk of being forcibly evicted from the cities you now call home, then it becomes imperative to do so, and foolhardy to do otherwise.

The truth is, building mansions in the east will not develop the Southeast. We have already tried that. Scarred by the war, the men and women of Southeastern origin in their late sixties and seventies already have beautiful mausoleums, decaying and burdensome to their children in diaspora, who have no intention of ever settling in the Southeast.  These children are scornful of their parents' wastefulness or at best patronizing of the parents' desire to own empty mansions in the East. The Igbo race is filled with so much potential. I truly believe we are very intelligent but also a proud race. This pride sometimes makes Igbos unable to form a coalition, or unable to follow a leader. "Igbo enwe eze" is an adage that says the Igbos have no king. Each man is his own king, and he determines his future. This bold stance makes the Igbos great entrepreneurs, bold migrants, but not the greatest nation builders. I say it's time to stop whining and move in a calculated strategic manner. We have complained that we have been marginalized, especially in the current  administration. That is true, but, we are not as helpless as we imagine. What can we make out of our current situation?  We need a cohesive development agenda for the entire Southeast region, as a proactive way to remove the existential threat we now face as a people.  As a matter of urgency, the people of the South East need to come together.

The Igbos need a Southeastern Agenda as a region. This agenda needs to be committed to by all the governors of the Southeastern states, with a master plan mapped out of the entire South Eastern region. This plan needs to create an economically viable independent region.  We need a master plan of the entire region, not just one state, then we need a commitment by successive governors, senators, and leaders to push this agenda, quietly but surely. Then we sell this dream to the people. Especially those in diaspora to invest in the development of this region. Each State can decide based on its core strength, what it will be known for, eg: Anambra for commerce, so it is developed along those lines. Enugu for tourism and education, Imo Owerri, for entertainment and commerce, etc. If each of these states decides what makes them great individually, then put them together to make one contiguous zone without competition; rather with complementary strengths, Within 10 years, the Southeast will be an attractive place to live in. Peter Obi during his tenure as governor attracted notable investments to Anambra State, and Obianor seems to be aggressively going down that line, but, quality of life is the issue in many of the Eastern States. If I have a job in SAB Miller in Anambra State, where do my children go to school? Where can we go on the weekend to relax. When it is time for secondary school are there world-class schools for my children to attend.?Where do I live? Can I take a stroll around my housing estate? Are there tasteful places to hang out and relax? Are there other families like mine around? When Peter Obi was governor, he said he was trying to lay a basic foundation, to enable development. He was largely successful at that. What is the next step for the region? Have other states built this basic foundation? What will be the centres of development? Of what will the development be hinged on?  Whatever it is, once identified, then we proceed steadily in that direction; attracting major investments to a clear future. If together we can paint a clear picture of a bright future, we would not need to agitate for a separate state. However, if we choose (or are forced) to do that, we have higher bargaining power. This will assure of Igbos of a fairer share of the pie, or their own juicy pie.

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Only Fools Wait in Line

One and a half hours to departure time, and I stood in line at Murtala Muhammed International  Airport, Lagos, gazing in despair at the long security line that snaked through the hall. "It was long, but at least it was moving consistently", I consoled myself.  The announcements boomed from the speakers in the new brightly lit portion of the departure hall. We trudged along inching down the eternal line.

I heard some rustling behind, and a voice asked to be excused. Without thinking, I stepped aside, and a lady, with her luggage in tow brushed past me, making her way rapidly down the line.  A few minutes later, another passenger breezed by me. I noted that the first lady was already at the security point. The line moved slowly. I wondered what flight the people rushing through were catching. It also suddenly occurred to me that airlines usually send someone to expedite their passengers through the security lines, if they are checked in and the plane is about to depart. I resolved to guard the line the next time someone came through.

The next set of people were a pair of presumably gentlemen. A light-skinned man probably in his late fifties, accompanied by a man who was about twenty years younger. When they got to me, the older man bellowed :"excuse me!" forcefully. I breathed deep and asked them boldly but politely, why they needed to pass through, since we were each trying to catch a flight. The older gentleman explained that he was running late and needed to catch his flight. I asked him what flight he was on and what time it was departing. A flash of irritation crossed his face, and he retorted that I did not need to know, then curtly asked me to step aside. Oh boy! Well, I politely let him know that he could not pass through. It was my place in line and I had the right to cede it to whomever I wanted to. He threatened to move me out, if I did not move. I dug my heels in and stood akimbo with my arms gripping each side of the rail. To my surprise, this man shamelessly and forcefully tried to push me aside.

How did I get here? I wondered in a surreal moment: being shoved aside by an elderly man at the international airport in Lagos. More importantly was how do I get out of this mess? Remember that there was a hall full of people all around me. In fact some people muttered indicating I should just let him pass. I started calling for security, as I realized that the man emboldened by the onlookers inaction, could very well land me a slap, and he was pushing me more forcibly, as I resisted by shifting the weight on my legs to counter his push, while trying to maintain as much dignity as one can muster in such a situation. The situation was rapidly deteriorating, and I quickly scanned through my options for a graceful exit. Two airport security men finally showed up. After listening to my complaint, one of them reprimanded him lightly, saying he should have "asked me nicely". "That's not the point!" I thought. "When you ask for something, you may get an affirmative or negative response" in this case, my response was negative. The security did not seem to think it was such a big deal that he assaulted me when he did not get the response he desired. I explained to the security that he had "asked" me, but he refused to volunteer his flight information, to aid in my decision on whether to let him through or not. The security man then asked him what flight he was rushing to catch. Well when he finally deigned to respond, it turned out we were trying to catch the same flight! Needless to say, I ensured he stayed behind me the rest of the way. He and his colleagues spent the next few minutes taunting me, meanly calling me the "line police", and accusing me of infringing on their freedom of movement, and railing at how this could never happen in the United States. "At least on that last point we agreed", I thought, with the smug satisfaction that their comments were coming from behind me.

Such an incident can and does occur in Nigeria, not because the people are particularly unruly, but because we let it happen- Yes, you and I, if you are a Nigerian in Nigeria. The man in question, judging by his accent must have spent at least twenty years living in the United States of America, and was probably just visiting. He knew better. He was perfectly capable of conforming in a law abiding society. It is the people in line who stepped aside to let him pass, the people who looked the other way when he assaulted me, that make Nigeria lawless. It is the airport security that did not see anything seriously wrong with the man's actions, and as such treated the incident with levity. It is you and I. So, if you jump queues, if you step aside and let people jump the queue, or if you look the other way when someone plucks up the courage to address the queue jumper, then you and only you are Nigeria's problem. Not anyone else. Do something today. You are Nigeria. Change the Nigerian story.

                                        

Father Father

As I grow older, my appreciation for my father grows. When I look back at my interactions with him, I now understand the impact of my own actions and not just my words on my children. They are actually picking their values from my actions. It must be so, because through my father's actions, I learned many values. I have written below a few of the things I learnt from him.

Independent Thought & Vision-casting.
My father gave us wings to fly from early on by letting us make life choices independently. Sometimes extended family members railed at the level of independence we had to make decisions. He would engage us in dialogue, through which we had to convince him we had thought through our planned course of action. I remember him asking me for my strategic plans for the next five to ten years of my life when I was about seventeen. At that age, five years seemed like an eternity. We filled our secondary school forms and JAMB forms on our own. Whenever he came to visit me in university, people commented that our camaraderie was like that of peers. He had no airs about him. He respected our thoughts and took our views seriously. Talk about building confidence early in life.

Entrepreneurship
When I was about 17. My father brought me my first architecture client. He left us to discuss terms and I took the brief. Later on, he asked me if I had discussed the terms of payment. Indeed he has been my client. He taught us to work hard and keep business as business. Indeed, in my nuclear family, when we borrow money from one another, we pay back.

No Sense of Entitlement
He raised us without a sense of entitlement, and a strong work ethic. I remember on my first vacation as a first year student in university at 16. I laid siege outside his door. When he came out I pleaded my case: I was broke; I needed money; How was a young lady to survive on holiday without money? He listened quietly. After I was done, he asked me to follow him. We drove to his furniture company, Ricco Furniture on Ikorodu Road. He  introduced me to the manager. That day, I started my first job as a sales executive. I understood, that if I wanted money, then I needed to work for it. It was empowering, because I could choose to dress as well as I wanted to, or save up for trips just by working hard. I was not dependent on him or anybody, I could chart my own course in life from an early age.

Courage
At some point, when I was in my teenage years, an incident occurred in my hometown. My father is a titled man, in my town. I come from Igbo-Ukwu in Anambra State. Igbo-Ukwu instituted something called the merit chiefs in the eighties, as a response to the apparent bastardization of chieftaincy titles by the Igbo monarchs in the late eighties and nineties. At that time, men of means could buy a chieftaincy title, regardless of the means of their wealth acquisition. Over the Christmas break that year, the youth called an emergency assembly, and publicly accused one of the merit chiefs of land-grabbing and then committing murder to ensure he retained ownership of the land in dispute. They put together a kangaroo court, found him guilty and immediately sentenced him to be banished from the town.  Everyone was afraid, there were mutterings that if he was found guilty, he must have been guilty. My father however, fought assiduously to prove that the judgement was illegitimate; that there were established channels to obtain justice, not the youth taking over the reigns of the town. His point was not that the man was innocent, but he needed to be proven guilty(or not) in a legitimate court. I witnessed a conversation between my dad and his mother, where she appealed to him to not get involved in the matter, so that he would not be associated with someone who may have committed murder, and by extension, be branded a murderer. My father argued that if he kept quiet and looked the other way, it may be him tomorrow, and there would be no one left to speak for him, if he found himself in a position of oppression and injustice.  It was during this conversation that I became aware of the speech by Martin Niemöller :


"First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me."

They were able to get the banishment lifted and due process followed.  In the end, the man was legally acquitted.

Take Calculated Risks
My father took calculated risks. He took chances. I remember once we set off from Lagos to the Eastern part of Nigeria on environmental sanitation Saturday at 6:30 am. We rushed through, leaving Lagos before 7:00 a.m. (environmental sanitation was a mandatory practice in national Nigeria from 7:00 a.m. to 11:00 a.m. every last Saturday every month, when everyone was required to stay at home and clean his/her exterior environment. As a result, vehicles were meant to be off the road during this period). My father's calculation was that the authorities would be too busy monitoring the movement in the cities and would not be on the federal roads preying on travelers as was their custom. We arrived at Awka at about 10:45am. When we got to Awka, we were stopped by some soldiers who, assumed he was from the Defence Headquarters, because we were riding in an army green coloured Mercedes Benz. He did nothing to disabuse them of that notion. They bade us journey mercies and sent us on our way with a customary military salute. He made it in time for his all important meeting. I remember the adrenaline rush as we drove through the deserted roads daring to brave it when everyone else was indoors because of the sanitation. While this action may be deemed as defiant in some quarters, I learnt that sometimes you need to take risks, but calculated ones.

Be Open-minded
When I was twelve years old, after a two year search for intense meaning, I made a radical decision to commit the rest of my life to the tenets of Christianity (popularly known as getting born-again). This involved a drastic lifestyle change, and a fervour of spirit I had not had before. Armed with this new sense of purpose, I began to tell all who would listen about this new joy and sense of purpose I had found. At this time I was in a boarding secondary school in the Eastern part of Nigeria.  My guardian sent a letter to my parents claiming I had gone crazy and was now a religious fanatic. He sent this letter after he had a meeting with me, in which he appealed to me to suspend talking to people about Christ until I finished my education. This I found impossible to do, as I felt a sense of urgency, to spread the good news and by doing so possibly bring salvation to people I had come to love. I also explained to him that I did not see how they were mutually exclusive. My father, on receiving this letter, travelled from Lagos to Onitsha, where I was in a secondary boarding school. When he arrived, he interviewed my friends and I. We defended our faith vigorously for about two hours and at the end of the intense dialogue, he gave me a note for my guardian. The note said:  "I have seen my daughter and I find her no cause for alarm." He let me live as a radical Christian. Twelve years later, he committed his life to following Jesus Christ at the culmination of his own personal search for meaning.

Today, I salute you Dad. Along with all the wonderful devoted fathers out there. You may not be perfect, but your stability and presence continues to provide a necessary foundation. Your children will later realize your worth. Hang in there, even if you feel unappreciated now. Kind words of praise from you are like life-blood to your children. Do not withhold them. You are indeed a rare breed.  The world would not be the same without you. Happy Father's Day!

Who is Nigeria?

It seems really tough not to be intimidated by the difference in our quest for excellence. As I walked through the Washington Dulles Airport designed by Eero Saarinen, built in the 60s, I felt almost depressed, because the skylights were clean, the tension steel cables looked brand new, and strong, the floors gleemed, and all the escalators worked. Then I thought with sadness about my vehicle, which always has water marks, even though my driver and security guard say they have cleaned it. The water collecting in puddles in my yard every time it rains, not swept away by someone's fastidiousness. Left to grow algae. The puddles collecting in the first place because the driveway is unevenly paved. The paint smears on my tile skirting that haunt me each day I walk in my door. I must get someone to clean it up. It can seem discouraging, this settling for less. Can it be that we as a people cannot see these details, can it be that we are wired differently? Or is it conditioning? If it is conditioning? Then who conditioned the people in the West? Whose job is it to condition 170 million people?

My thoughts return to the airport. The Murtala Muhammed International Airport, Lagos fills me with great sadness each time I arrive home. I know I should be grateful that the escalators are working today. But for how long? The newly laid granite tiles that are unsealed, already staining, the hideous cream and blue seats, line the dank boarding gate areas, with green aluminium ceiling slats. Can we not see that the colours don’t work? Can we not see that the tiles are uneven and the gate areas are dark? Even if one cannot tell the reason why our airports look shabby, surely one must know that there is a difference.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that the problem is that those effecting the changes do not know better. It must be so, otherwise, why would someone be commissioned to put POP moulding decorative moulding on the modern addition to the airport? However, I am also realizing that this is my airport. I own it as much as anyone else walking through its halls. Why should I cringe every time I come home?  Why shrug and walk away in apathy, resigned to the sad conclusion that this is Nigeria. Who is Nigeria? Is it not you and I? But the airport does not reflect me. It does not reflect many people who walk through it, and resign themselves to the "Nigerian State of things". I am Nigeria. You are Nigeria. If you feel this state of affairs does not reflect you, then you need to do something. Who is writing the Nigerian story? Who are the main characters? Who is the audience? Through an awakened consciousness, we must wrestle for the soul of Nigeria and each become the principal actors or at least play a supporting role, or move props. Whatever it is, but do something to change the story. Only you have that power. When you remain in the audience in resignation, watching as others take your cue, you are letting others write the Nigerian story. You are muzzling yourself and ceding your right to a great place to call home. Do something today. You are Nigeria. Change the Nigerian story.