Nwankwo T. Nwaezeigwe
Odogwu of Ibusa
President, International Coalition against Christian Genocide in Nigeria (ICAC-GEN)
Email: [email protected] Visit us at https://icac-gen.org for more news and your financial support
It should be recalled that the previous night, I was visited in my dream by Iyi-Oji Deity whose Olulu (Shrine) is prominently situated at Oko Ogbele town square and another in the forest, in what appeared as a shielding appearance from an incoming danger. That strongly confirmed my fear of an impending danger and hence my urgent need to leave Oko Ogbele as soon as possible.
Thus that morning as the man and his wife stood afar gazing at me steadily with uneasy calmness; I called out to the man and pleaded with him in the most solemn tone, to come for a short discussion. When he came into my room, I further pleaded with him to have a seat, to which he agreed. I then gave him a run-down of how he had been kind to me since I arrived to his house even at the time I had no money.
I then made him to understand that right then there was no money left for my feeding and that was because the road to Oko Ogbele was not only rough but far from my hometown, making it difficult for my people to attend to my needs as frequent as necessary, and thus for that reason something must be done urgently to have money sent to me from my people. He nodded in affirmation.
I then suggested that he should get a commercial motor-bike which would take me to the home of Dr. Fidelis Nwanze at Oko Amakom, from where my people would then be contacted to bring me some money, after which I would return together with the same motor-bike. He agreed and immediately suggested one of his brothers and went ahead to contact him immediately.
That was how I left that danger zone that same day, but not without concealing my real intentions by leaving behind some of my belongings, mainly a shirt and my covering cloth including my tooth brush and paste. Indeed I eventually left as I came because every other belonging apart from my pair of trousers and shirt were either brought from home by Brother Nnamdi or bought for me by my host with my money.
My movement from Oko Ogbele to Oko Amakom through Oko Anala, approximately a distance of about fifteen kilometers of untarred and dusty rough track-road, remote and isolated from the breath of security agents gave me an equal feeling of anxiety as with the hope of freedom. The fear of being waylaid on that lonely remote road and dispatched without trace was always beclouding my hope for safety offered by my eventful exit from Oko Ogbele bone-healing home.
On getting to Oko Anala which is just about two kilometers from our final destination, we met a group of young me holding a meeting under a canopy in front of a house along the major track road. As we rode past them, an array of attention that abruptly disrupted their proceedings was turned towards us. It was then that it dawned on me that these people might be holding a meeting on how to apprehend me.
This fear was confirmed when one of the young men among them immediately mounted a motor-bike and rode after us. In his desperation he nearly collided with us from the rear and it took the stern-looking confidence of my companion to force the man into a convenient space behind us. It was obvious that he was trailing us to determine our actual destination, for as soon as we negotiated into the main entrance gate of Dr. Nwanze’s house, he abruptly turned back.
At the time we got to Dr. Nwanze’s residence we discovered that he was not around. So we waited till he arrived. After briefing him my experience with the bone-healer, I informed him that I was no longer going back there and that all I needed from him was to take me back to my village, for if at all I should die in the course of this struggle in the hands of the Nigerian Government and their agents let it be at my ancestral home, for Odogwu of Ibusa does not either die in battle or outside his ancestral domain. He fully agreed with me and said we should wait till the cover of the night when it would be safe for me to move unsuspectingly.
He thereafter paid the commercial motor-cyclist that brought me his money—the sum of one thousand naira, formally requesting him to inform my Oko Ogbele bone-healer that I would not be coming back. At about 8pm a taxi cab driven by one of his trusted friends pulled over and then conveyed me incognito to the home of my uncle and paramount head of Anyalaobum sub-clan of Ibusa Sir F. C. Nwanze. Sir F. C. Nwanze indeed abdicated the Odogwu title because of undue pressure from his Roman Catholic leadership, which led to my assuming the title.
When I was brought in, it generated a state of mixed joy and mourning because of my evidently emaciated frame and impoverished walking-stick. There it was decided immediately that only the immediate family members would be intimated of my presence. So I was put in an inner room of which the only immediate family had access to. Thereafter, an expert traditional female bone-healer was contracted to provide me with the necessary treatment.
Arriving there mid-January 2018, within three months I found myself walking relatively with the aid of a pair of clutches, my ankle and knee fractures on both legs having been painfully healed considerably. However, the broken femur at the hip-joint remained unhealed and defied every attempt at fixing it. For four months—mid-January to the end of May 2018, I stayed secluded in one home without my village community who held periodic meetings in the same house being aware of my presence.
In the course of my refuge at Bonsaak Suburb of Asaba, I incidentally became somewhat a close friend to the Ghana-born Nollywood female star Nadia Buari through Facebook. We were indeed chatting and communicating through whatsapp frequently until my ordeal went into full force. Although our relationship was tending towards amorous level, but as with most Nollywood ladies, such relationship could either be fake with the intention of extorting their victims, or a means of set-up for easy dispatch by security agencies. Thus I was following her with extreme caution. However, when I got to my village and the need to escape from the country arose, I used my cousin’s Facebook account to link her up.
She indeed sincerely to my knowledge suggested that she could help me escape to Ghana through one of their Nollywood buses that usually convey their acting equipment to Ghana. She even promised to accommodate me in her shared apartment in Lagos pending my trip to Ghana. Laudable as it might appear, but my spirit was quick to detect a black-hole in her plan. So I played it down till I left my town.
When finally I arrived in Ghana in August 2018 through Cameroon, Niger, and Burkina Faso, I again contacted her and she immediately linked me up to her friend for accommodation. Unfortunately, for whatever reason I knew not, the person later declined, which prompted my tactical withdrawal from her; especially when I discovered that her father is a notable Muslim in Ghana. This is because the life of a Christian is worth less than that of a cow; no matter how highly placed is such a Christian. It was however when I arrived in Togo that she revealed her real evil intentions towards me through her attempt to openly set me up with agents of Nigerian Government. It was after that episode that she decided to block my telephone number.
It was right there I was informed that the Federal Government placed an initial ransom of five million naira (5, 000, 000 Naira on my head; which was later increased to ten million naira (10, 000, 000 Naira) by adversaries in both my hometown and outside. With this revelation, I began to understand why many people were and still desperate to see me dead, to which God has proved to them that my life is not as cheap as they assume it to be.
During this period my people sent a delegation led by my maternal Uncle Sir Engr. Dennis Onyekonwu Monyei now late, with another Uncle from paternal side Sir Okouwai Nwanze and Sir Nnamdi Nwanze, to Okwadike Dr. Chukwuemeka Ezeife, a political god-father and former Governor of Anambra State on the way forward for my safety. They were surprised that Dr. Ezeife never believed I was under pursuit by the DSS. Their mission even though positive in terms of the great concern shown by Okwadike Chukwuemeka Ezeife, but no immediate solution was preferred.
I was also there when the traditional ruler of Ibusa, the Obuzor of Ibusa Obi (Prof) Louis Chelunor Nwoboshi came for reconciliation with my village with a cow. I was also there when one of my ardent supporters in the village Chukwuma Nwokocha brought his nephew and a 419 kingpin Mr. Charles Okonkwo aka Charlie-Coupé before the Diokpa of Anyalaobum Sir Fidelis Nwanze for support in his bid for the Odogwu of Ibusa title, with the understanding that I was already declared dead.
I could remember the Diokpa asking Mr. Charles Okonkwo if there could be two Odogwu at the one time; with Charles Okonkwo responding that if I was truly alive I should come out for people to see me. The Diokpa then reminded him that I was alive except that they were informed that I had serious injury. In fact the irony of Mr. Charles Okonkwo’s visit was that that was his first visit to the family of Sir Fidelis Nwanze after more than thirty years since vacating their house in Benin City, where he lived with them for over one year to enable him complete his Secondary school education after his father retired and re-located back home to Ibusa.
Throughout his spectacular rise to the specter of Advance-Fee-Fraud wealth, popularly known as 419, bestriding the social terrain of Ibusa with his flat-booth Mercedes Benz Coupé, from which he derived his nickname, he never remembered how kind and accommodating the F. C. Nwanze family was until the dwindling fortunes of 419 and the consequent drought of illicit wealth led him to seek emergency relief from the title of Odogwu of Ibusa.
Ironically, the day before my arrival, my village had held a meeting in the same house, where they discussed the news of my death and the need for confirmation. Funds were subsequently raised and given to my younger brother of the same parents named Chukwuji to travel to both Nsukka and Lagos to make further enquiries and confirm my death. Unfortunately he was one of the strongest allies of my adversaries in Ibusa. Thus he never stepped out of the town for the said mission he collected the money until I left my town.
This was the same person I gave one of my cars as a gift to use for his commercial transportation business since he refused to further his education after dropping out at Secondary School form two, which he ended up selling at a disgusting low price. And when I demanded the reason for the action, his response was that I had no right to question him over what he wished to do with something I gave him as gift.
I came home one day and saw our family dog tied to a stake and I demanded for the reason and he said he was selling it because he had no money. I said how much and he said five thousand naira. I gave him five thousand naira and released the dog. As soon as I left town he apprehended the dog and sold it. This was the same brother who stood on the Witness Box in the Customary Court of Appeal, Asaba to bear false witness against me for my adversaries. My village knew these facts but they decided to entrust on him the responsibility of confirming his elder brother’s death.
Indeed, I have not been all that lucky in having responsible siblings who could have acted as a strong wedge against my adversaries; rather they opted to work in collaboration with them against me. My next younger brother following Chukwuji named Osita who I adjudged to be responsible visited home one day from his base in Port Harcourt and demanded that I give him one of my cars. I said okay, if you can maintain it, then take my Dawoo Racer which I came home with and was currently in the mechanic workshop for slight maintenance. I subsequently gave him the particulars of the car and instructed the mechanic to hand over the car to him after service. I eventually went back to my base at University of Nigeria, Nsukka with public transportation.
One month later when I visited my hometown I saw the car still packed in the mechanic workshop with all the four tyres stolen. I was enraged and called him and demanded to know why he left the car I gave him abandoned to be cannibalized. His disgusting response was why should I give him a car I had already used while my mates in our town were buying new cars for their brothers? I said well, you demanded for one of the cars I am using and I gave you. I am not a 419 like the people you are referring to but a teacher with hard-earned salary. In that case, return the car papers to me. This was the source of my rift with him today. I eventually bought new rims and tyres for the car and gave it to my extended family relative Mr. Sunday Nwanze who was then Secretary to my Village on request.
Our last born by the same mother Afagwu finished his Junior Secondary School with incomplete result; and when I demanded the result to ensure he re-enrolled the examination, he retorted by telling me that he was no longer interested in education, asking me if those who made their money through 419 were graduates? He eventually joined one of my cousins in the business of 419, but at the end could not secure any victim to swindle; ending up missing on both ends—No education and the big money refused to come.
My father’s last son by another woman returned about twenty years after my father’s death to my delight as I was instructed by my father to receive him whenever he returned from his mother. When I sat with him to request the way forward for his life, he said he wanted to open a boutique and that I should give him money to start the business immediately. I said okay, but that he needed at least three months to learn the business as an apprentice, but he rejected my suggestion and left. That was the last time I saw him.
My immediate younger sister Philomena now late was in serious enmity with me till her death because I prevented her from sacrificing her second daughter Chiamaka through quack abortion. I had just buried my mother, followed swiftly with the death of our youngest sister Chinedu. I came home one day shortly after the above tragic events and met Chiamaka lying in our sitting-room on a make-shift foam mattress oozing with horrible putrid stench. I asked her what was the problem and she said she was suffering from hernia.
I was not convinced because even though that was what killed my father, for a teen of Chiamaka’s age to be afflicted with the same ailment is incomprehensible. I decided to immediately make further enquiries from a cousin nearby, who promptly told that she aborted a four-month old pregnancy which resulted to her womb’s decay. I was enraged because I was not ready for another death in the family.
I quickly came back to her and demanded the truth from her immediately, to which she confessed that her mother who was an auxiliary nurse at Dr. Onwuachi’s private Hospital in our town took her to their doctor who aborted her; and when her condition became critical, she dumped her in our sitting room telling her she needed only four thousand naira to buy her coffin. I immediately put her in my car and drove straight to the hospital and handed her over to her mother with the stern warning that if anything happens to girl I would deal with her in a manner she would never comprehend in her life.
By evening when I returned, I saw the girl lying on the same manner and position from which I took her to the hospital. I asked her what happened and she said her mother only put her on drip for a while and sent her back to the house. I immediately ordered her to enter my car and returned her to the hospital, this time to the Medical Director Dr. Onwuachi, with the strong warning that if the girl dies I would make sure his hospital is closed. Dr. Onwuachi knew I meant what I said and he immediately began by denying that no such abortion took place in his hospital. But when the young girl mentioned his junior as the culprit he became humbled. He promised to do something about it quickly.
Few hours later, when I was having a consultative meeting with late Obi (Hon) Vincent N. Obieke, my sister called me to informed me that I should come down to the hospital to sign an indemnity form on behalf of her daughter before I start writing petition. I told her well, this was not a matter of writing petition to save her daughter’s life but teaching her the necessary lesson. I immediately left my meeting and reported the matter to the Divisional Police Officer in-charge of Ibusa, who immediately ordered the arrest of my sister, Dr. Onwuachi, the doctor who carried out the abortion, and the boy who impregnated her with his mother.
Indeed my sister and Dr. Onwuachi had coerced the young girl to say that she drank concoction to terminate the pregnancy instead; until my timely arrival with the Investigating Police Officer who sternly told her that she was dying and thus it was better she says the truth to save her life. Thereafter she stated that the abortion was done in the hospital. When the DPO called me for the condition for settlement, I simply told him that the only condition for settlement was for the girl to be alive and healed.
Consequently, sensing the complicated nature of the case, Dr. Onwuachi transferred her from his hospital to the Federal Medical Centre, Asaba, where the girl had her womb operated and washed with Dr. Onwuachi bearing the cost. Following the trauma, Dr. Onwuachi dismissed my sister and the medical doctor responsible for the abortion. Ironically, the same Chiamaka joined her mother in bearing malice against me for saving her life.
My younger brother immediately after Philomena, Nduka, finished his secondary school certificate with nine failures (F9). When I advised him to study, in order to enable him retake the examination, he told me that I should not disturb him because those who made money in Ibusa did not attend university. He claimed to be a rain-doctor depending on burial ceremonies during the rainy season to earn his fleeting financial rewards; while breeding children with the intent of resting the responsibility of their training on my head through my mother, which I did not accept.
The essence of making a run-down of my relationship with my siblings is to soundly correct the allegation being peddled by my adversaries that I abandoned my siblings and their children while helping other people. For those who fully understand the Igbo terms: “Umunnabuogwu”, “Nwannabuogwu”, and “Iweka n’uno”, my own case is a perfect example. My consolation however is that my strength lies with my extended family and village.
When I was called to assume the title of Odogwu of Ibusa by my village, they knew that I had no money, but they insisted I must take the title. In furtherance of their support, the Village Assembly took the ritual oath of “Isele-oji” to affirm their immovable support for me. Those who later contravened the oath died in undefined circumstances. The Alo-na-Diokolo Village of Ezukwu Quarters went further to contribute money in support of my initiation rites.
When my adversaries invited the Police to obstruct my initiation rites and I was arrested, the entire women of Ezukwu Quarters trooped en masse to the Police Station, Ibusa and protested my arrest, prompting my immediate release. Throughout all the legal battles during my Odogwu dispute and my uncle’s Ikwele title dispute that led me to two days detention in SCIB, Asaba, 14 days in Police Zone 5, Headquarters, Benin City, 24 hours in Alagbo Police Annex, Lagos, two and half months in Oko Correctional Centre, Benin City, 14 days in Ogwashi-Uku Correctional Centre, and four days in Divisional Police Station, Akwukwu-Igbo, subsequently leading to my victory in court as Odogwu of Ibusa, my Village Elders led by the pious Sir F. C. Nwanze—the Emeritus Odogwu of Ibusa bore the entire financial responsibilities.
So I have always seen myself as someone with the fundamental responsibility to serve even at the point of my penury. I can’t recollect the number of students or ordinary people both in my village and outside I had supported financially on the basis of need with my meager income. Just before my current state of affairs, I embarked on a personal pilot project of empowering twenty youth of my Village with brand new commercial motorcycles, with the initial two motorcycles given out before I went into hiding. So I am aware that as I struggle against every adversity, legion of people are praying for my survival.
Most interesting however in these cases of unexpected sabotage was the case of the Onu Diokpa (Spokesman of the Diokpa) Mr. Peter Uwadia. Peter Uwadia was one of the people in my village I thought I could trust any day and any moment, until that moment of my trial. This was because I was very close to him when he was in Lagos working under Nwodo Transport Company. I encouraged him to invest in education on his children by sending one of his children to the University.
I further encouraged him by facilitating the admission of his first son to the Faculty of Engineering at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka. So when after my arrival we were discussing on the people who should be aware of my presence in the house and I mentioned Peter Uwadia, I was quickly reprimanded, citing his chameleonic disposition. I eventually lived to be proved wrong about my initial trust in him.
I was there when the Diokpa of Otu Odogwu Sub-Clan Onowu Emefie sent emissaries to inform Sir F. C. Nwanze of his planned traditional ceremony of assuming the position on substantive right. On the day the new Diokpa of Otu Odogwu Onowu Emefie convened his traditional inaugural meeting, Peter who by tradition was to represent the Diokpa of Anyalaobum Sir F. C. Nwanze in the meeting came for instruction as required by tradition. There he raised the issue of who should be supported in case the matter of the Odogwu title was raised.
The Diokpa quickly reprimanded him, warning him that there was already a subsisting oath binding on every Anyalaobum son and daughter to stand by Anthony Nwaezeigwe in case of any dispute in future over the title. But Mr. Peter Uwadia against all traditions questioned the Diokpa on why he should be supporting me, demanding to know if there was any special quality in me. It never occurred to him that I was in the next room listening to the whole conversation. The Diokpa was so infuriated that he ordered him not to speak on his behalf on any issue pertaining to Odogwu title.
The same Mr. Peter Uwadia was also usurping the office of the Diokpa by summoning meetings in the name of the Diokpa without the latter’s consent. He also became the spying agent for the agents of the DSS by trying to find out who was the strange person receiving secret treatment every morning in Diokpa’s house. Unfortunately, the family did not grant him access to any other room in the house outside the sitting-room and Diokpa’s living room.
He soon got connected with an erstwhile girl-friend to Charles Okonkwo named Stella Nzekwu who visited the house and soon revealed my presence to him, subsequently leading to my re-location. It was based on this catalogue of misdemeanors that the inner-family through my candid advice resolved to reduce his over-bearing influence by appointing Mr. Eugene Okafor as his assistant, thereby systematically alienating him from sensitive assignments and those errands that could bring him into the inner rooms.
Meanwhile the only outsiders within the village who knew of my presence and thus were permitted to visit me were my maternal Uncle Chief Paul Onochie—the Ikwele of Ibusa Clan, Hon. Augustine Chukwudi Nnabuife and Jomo Nduka Obidi my younger cousins and Hon. Lady (Dr.) Mrs. Felicia Nweze now late. The other external person was the woman traditional bone-healer who never excused herself for one day.
However towards the end of May, 2018, this world of seclusion began to crack as a result of the arrival of the daughter of a family friend to my uncle—a Delilah reincarnate called Stella Nzekwu, who visited from Lagos for the burial ceremony of Col. Nduka Okwuechima. This story might appear as a hoax or a sensational fairytale, but it occurred in both life and truth.
As soon as the woman arrived, the most potent and widely known “Benevolent Igbo Traditional Territorial Angel” (BITTA) known among the Igbo as Iyi-Oji and my late father appeared to me jointly and respectively in the dream in quick succession. Iyi-Oji belongs to a network of Benevolent Traditional Territorial Angels among the Igbo commonly known by the generic name of Alusi-Mili and Deities among modern scholars.
Defined as a female Deity with a strong sense of potent judgment, many people still revere her as an impartial judge and often resort to her adjudication in contempt of the corruption-ridden modern judicial system. For instance, many people around the commercial city of Onitsha still patronize Oyi-Oji in the neighboring Odekpe town for adjudication of disputes. Other examples include Oboshi of Ibusa, Onishe of Asaba, the dreaded Adoro of Alor Uno Nsukka, Haba of Agulu, and Adofi of Ndokwa area of Delta State.
Many of them had set taboos and totems of which if contravened often attract severe retributions, in some cases resulting to outright death. Iyi-Oji and Adoro of Alor-Unor Nsukka so far have remained the most potent of all Deities in Igboland acting as effective agents of social control and dispensing justice in real time among the Igbo within their respective areas of jurisdiction.
My town Ibusa has two Potent Traditional Angels of such. Iyi-Oji and Oboshi, all of which are Female Marine Deities associated respectively to rivers of the same name. The totem imposed by Iyi-Oji on the people is the African rabbit known among the people as Eyi, a specie of the rat family, but slightly larger in size than hare. Its notable identity is a white-colored tail-end. Every indigene of Ibusa is forbidden from eating it; while my village in particular—Ezukwu is forbidden to either touch or kill it in addition. It cannot be sold in any market in Ibusa.
On the other hand, the major totem imposed by Oboshi is the taboo against the killing and eating of the fish in her river by every bona fide indigene of the Ibusa. In addition, to those who are directly connected to her through reincarnation like myself, the eating of a variety of pump vegetable known as Ugu is equally forbidden. This is one aspect of traditional Igbo belief system which both the Church and modern civilization have not succeeded in obliterating.
In Anambra State of Nigeria for instance, one of the strongest points of doctrinal Christianity in Igboland, all the communities under the Idemili Deity spiritual sphere of influence, still retain python as their major totem. Umunya people still forbid cat-fish; Umuowele group of communities consisting Abba, Abagana, Nimo and Eziowele still revere tortoise; while to the people of Awka the capital city of Anambra State, capital punishment awaits anyone who kills or eats monkey in the town. In Asaba the capital city of Delta State, the selling of Ogbono vegetable seed in their markets remains a taboo. Instances are legion. However, the scope of the present narrative does not permit extensive discussions on such arena of scholarship.
In the first dream, my father appeared alongside a huge human figure my father addressed as Iyi-Oyi, before the same huge appearance called my name—Anthony three times without making any further statement. I then responded by asking: “if I offended God” and she said no; I asked again “if I offended Iyi-Oji” and she responded no; and I asked the third time “if I offended Oboshi” and she again replied no; then she warned me that I should not have anything to do with the woman that has just entered the house I was staying. Thereafter I woke up.
There was no doubt that the said lady—Miss Stella Nzekwu was exhibiting some concerns over my state of health and distress. She informed me that she lived in Ghana for a long period and had strong connections there. Thereafter she suggested that she would make arrangements for my escape to Ghana. She had even suggested a man she would give me his contact in Ghana to provide accommodation for me when I eventually escape to Ghana.
She even took a hand-written letter from me to the late Dr. Frederick Faseun in one of her short trips to Lagos in preparation for the burial of Col Okwechime but unfortunately she could not gain access to him because he was already down with sickness. She went further to suggest that she would make secret arrangement with a Ghana-bound transportation outfit to help with my safe exit.
All these actions, laudable and humane as they seem to appear, were however beclouded with an unusually developing amorous feeling towards me against the background of the earlier warning handed down to me in the dream. And because I believe that the unseen know better than we mortals it becomes imperative that the views of the unseen must always take precedence over those of the mortals around us. Indeed at one stage of our nightly “muchi-muchi” interactions, my uncle had to call out to us to be wary of what we do in the night because it is taboo to do such in his house.
But possibly because of my state of extreme weakness both physically and psychologically, or in another way, to prove to me the potency of the unseen powers and the dangers of disobeying providential instructions, I was allowed to momentarily fall into her lusty hands. Thus in what appeared as a hypnotized state of trance, I saw myself overwhelmed by the lady who eventually succeeded in having her way over me.
Immediately she was done, a wave of infectious attack symptomatic of sensational abrasion descended all over my body. I knew immediately I was in serious trouble of disobedience to providential orders. But as Odogwu, I knew that not every sickness is curable by orthodox medical approach. I quietly requested to have audience with my trusted spiritual assistant in the village Mr. Jomo Obidi. My uncle was not ready to have such. But I persisted assuring him that the young man will not reveal my presence.
Finally Mr. Jomo Obidi arrived and was not only overwhelmed with joy that I was still alive but informed me that many people had been mocking him in our village over my supposed death. Without further discussion I instructed him to get me a day-old chick; which he eventually brought later in the night. With this I carried out formal traditional absolution in line with my office as Odogwu of Ibusa and commanded the day-old chick to carry all my afflictions from the evil lady away, and subsequently handed it over to Mr. Jomo Obidi to dispose on the street. Less than one hour, I saw myself returning to normalcy, and by the next day, I was fully recovered.
Three days later, when it was evident that the woman was making further advances towards me possibly for another round, even in the midst of my ugliness and pains, my father appeared to me with the image of my immediate younger brother—Nduka demanding in a much stern manner to know if I am still his first son? I said why the question and almost immediately responded that I am, and woke up from sleep.
It was at that point that I became even more conscious of the destructive intentions of the woman and began to take extra precautionary measures which unfortunately became the source of our friction and her malice towards me. This subsequently led to her apparent collusion with my enemies within my community and by extension the DSS. In fact in her rage she made it clear to me that she was dating one Mr. Charles Okonkwo— the same man who came to announce his intention to take over my Odogwu title under the pretext that I was dead.
She brought me food from the burial ceremony of Col Okwechime which I refused to eat. She brought fried chicken again from her father’s birthday celebration, which I rejected again. The issue was that I was not lacking food in my place of refuge. I ate whatever I wanted with pleasurable freedom. So there was nothing special about such Greek-gifted food items.
But beyond my detestation of her advances, as Odogwu of Ibusa, I am customarily barred from eating public food in parties, burial ceremonies, weddings and other forms of public gatherings. This is a known fact even among my colleagues at University of Nigeria, Nsukka. I am also customarily barred from sleeping with any widow or any woman under menstruation no matter how young or beautiful. There are certain days in the Igbo four-day market week of Eke, Olie, Afor, and Nkwo, I am forbidden from having affairs with women.
Under normal customary circumstances, a woman under menstruation is not allowed to cook or serve my food. This explains why I am barred from eating public food; except of course food bought with my money, but not within my hometown— permission granted under the traditional rites of Ngupu (Exclusion) during my initiation rites. In other words, I can eat food in restaurants at the neighboring towns of Asaba, Ogwashi-Uku and Okpanam or any other town, but not in my hometown Ibusa. I also do not eat in anybody’s home except close relatives and friends. I am also forbidden to eat any form of cassava-based food—from fufu to abacha.
Uttering deadly lies or abdicating from stating the truth might attract immediate retributions against me, as declared during my Isa-Ile (Washing of Tongue) ritual initiation rites. However, these do not include lies that are intended to save lives from adversaries. Thus for people like me, not stating the truth when the occasion arises is as deadly as uttering deadly falsehoods with my tongue. This is a traditional spiritual diktat which I do not need any Pastor or Bishop to instruct me on because the repercussions live with me directly.
It was under these circumstances that she departed the house and subsequently relocated to her mother’s house in Ogboli Quarters, Ibusa with the full intention of revenge against me. Thus her departure far from resting my agitated state of insecurity even brought it to another level of apprehension. Not long after her departure, the town-crier summoned the entire youths of the town to a general meeting at Nkata Square. In the said meeting they were warned against harboring anybody wanted by security agencies, in apparent reference to my presence in the town.
I knew I was the target but it was difficult to mention my name publicly as a wanted person in my hometown or direct the security agencies to raid my abode under a situation where I had been adjudged to be dead and my supporters in the community who are on the popular side were still mourning my supposed death. Moreover, the home of the person where I was staying was not the type anyone would just lead the security agencies to search for my whereabouts. Apart from having one his daughters as a High Court Judge, he was the institutional head (Diokpa) of a major sub-clan in the town—Anyalaobum. The Diokpa (Okpala) traditional headship institution is the most revered traditional leadership in Ibusa till date. Leading security agencies to raid the home of Diokpa Ebo, Ogbe or Ibusa would be deemed sacrilegious.
It was becoming clear to me that my presence in my hometown had been revealed and what remained was the strategy of arrest or abduction. Even though I knew that so long as I remained in my traditional village nothing would happen to me. My adversaries would only be running around like one plucking pepper. But I equally knew that I was not in control of my destiny. Thus not long after the emergence of this threatening episode I was given the sign that I would leave my hometown any moment; but the time, destination and mode I knew not.
Meanwhile, the emerging apprehension resulting from Stella Nzekwue’s sabotage and the consequent fear of the possibility of DSS invasion of my home of refugee led me to demand for temporary relocation to another uncle’s house—Sir Dennis Onyekonwu Monyei in Umuosowe Village, Umuodafe Quarters. Meanwhile, Mr. Peter Uwadia was constantly sending his then pregnant second wife to find out who was always coming to Diokpa’s room every early in the morning to discuss with him, by pretending to be working in their small garden adjoining the Diokpa’s window.
I was subsequently driven concealed in Uncle Okouwai’s Mercedes Benz car to my maternal grandmother’s sweet kindred—Umuosowe Village, Umuodafe Quarters, where I stayed for four days concealed in a room in Brother Chukwuma Monyei’s house next door to Uncle Onyekaonwu’s house, before returning to my original base. It was while I was there that I was instructed to leave my town as soon as possible without any prior information of destination or means.
I therefore made up my mind that it was right time I depart from my hometown to yet to be known destination. My original intuition was Warri, from where I could connect a fishing vessel to stow me away from the Nigerian shores, before the idea of escaping to the Republic of Cameroon emerged abruptly in the course of my journey. I had been concealed in one house for nearly five months—from January to end of May 2018, with the blessing of graduating from being crippled to ability to work with clutches.
Thus as soon as I was brought back from my grandmother’s kindred I knew I had been equipped with additional ancestral unction for my journey into the unknown. I knew that my beloved grandmother Alice Adaozele—a child of good fortune in her own right would not allow her beloved son to perish in the wilderness of his struggles for the emancipation of his people, the same way she did not perish when she was born a twin in 1904 when twins were thrown into Isikisi Evil Forest to die painful death for no fault of theirs. Imagine if my grandmother was not spared by the act of providence and wisdom of her parents, I would not have had the opportunity of existing today as a living creature.
I could remember my mother narrating to me how her mother was announced as the only child begotten by her mother, because her mother already had two sons, so needed a girl; while her twin brother was smuggled to the neighboring Umueze Quarters and secretly handed over to a woman who had just had stillbirth. Both twins subsequently grew up knowing they were originally of the same mother and father but officially of different families courtesy of the evil custom of killing of twins. Their children knew as well and discreetly maintained close filial relationship.
I knew as a kid that my mother was always visiting the man’s first son immediately after the Nigerian civil war but I never knew the nature of their relationship; until one of my uncles utilizing the closeness proposed to the man’s daughter. When the news was broken, the first question he was asked was, have you slept with her? And he said not yet. He was strongly informed that the said girl is his niece—a direct blood sister, and to do such would have amounted to serious taboo.
Most instructive was that I knew that my grandmother’s name was Adaozele, but I never knew the meaning of the word “Adaozele” until I heard my friend and chauffeur to the iconic labor leader Chief Frank Ovie-Kokori, Joseph, an Ishan from Edo State mention his sister’s name as “Omozele”, which prompted me to ask the meaning of the name in Ishan (Esan). He told me that “Omozele” means “child of good-luck”, which promptly underscores my grandmother’s name “Adaozele.” From this analogy I was able to further relate the Igbo “Nwabude” to Edo “Omobude”, both of which deeply underscore the strong linguistic affinity between the Igbo and the Edo.
Thus entering the house with the strength of my grandmother’s anointing, I dramatically informed my uncle and his most loving wife and mother that I had decided to leave the next day. It was like a bomb–shell because to give notice of travel is one thing, but to say it would take place the next day was another that sounded incomprehensible. But they knew I had the final say since it was a matter that concerned my life.