It wasn’t courage
To those Biafran boys that charged the battles fields of Enugu, it wasn’t courage that drove you, it was something much more, it was audacity crystallised into nothingness.
To those Biafran boys that did battle at Abaganna it wasn’t courage that propelled you to triumph against such odd, it was an audacity that transcends the human spirit.
To those of you that fell at Umuahia, it wasn’t courage that held that line, as the hoards came at you with brutality and inhumanity, it a hope of a freedom that surpasses human comprehension
And to those of you boys, those chosen few, that pushed back at Onitsha, it wasn’t courage that made such command performance that was in display in those moment , it was something never seen in human character.
As you defended your homeland against an enemy determined on annihilation at ugutta against odds never before seen in modern war fair, it wasn’t courage, it was a recognition, that something bigger than oneself was happening at that point in history.
Those that fell against the ravening clouds at Aba, and at Owerri, you wrest victory and repossessed your town, and even if it was for a moment, against odds that couldn’t be put in numbers, it wasn’t courage that galvanised you , it couldn’t have been, courage don’t come in this form,
It was the human spirit, that is beyond understanding, it wasn’t courage it couldn’t have been. Courage doesn’t manifest like this.
For the women and children that were murdered and they stood their ground, how can anybody say it was courage, to hold on for so long on that stage, in that theatre of death, that! That couldn’t not have been courage, no how, courage? No way it could have been courage
It was the indestructible spirit of the Igbo man.
It was the undaunted believe in himself,
It’s was for the chance to live even if it was for a moment.
To speak as men, on that table where only men sat.
It was for the opportunity to look death in the eye, and beat it back with a stick.
So to you few, lucky enough to have been chosen, you bled the soil red because you were Igbo people. It was beyond courage.
it was simply the Igbo man.
This is the final part of the blog:
Enjoy the war because peace would be terrible…
Henry Stimson, the US Secretary of War in President Truman’s administration, was quoted as having said of post-war Germany: “Punish the war criminals severely, take away their weapons for all time, but don’t deprive them of the possibility of rebuilding.” This was for Germany, that destroyed most of Europe; yet the Nigerian government did exactly the opposite to the Igbos, who were the victims of an unimaginable genocide.
After the war, General Yakubu Gowon and Chief Obafemi Awolowo did everything they could to slow the rebuilding of the heartlands and further impoverish the Igbo man by confiscating all his wealth saved in the banks and offering him a £20 token.
So, if you ever get to live a full lifetime, please do not take this moment in history for granted. Do not forget what happened here to a generation. If we have learnt anything from history, it is the fact that we do not learn from history. It is your duty as Igbos not to allow the rest of the world to forget: how the Igbo people bled the soil red; how women and children were murdered in the heartland with the support and resources of the rest of the world — British warships and tanks, Soviet bomber jets flown by Russian and Egyptian pilots, French rifles, Cameroonian channels, and South African mercenaries — all against one hundred and twenty-eight firearms, no tanks, no machine guns, no warships, and no heavy weaponry whatsoever. And the rest of the world did nothing for thirty months.
For those who didn’t know: before the child soldiers of Liberia, Angola, and Somalia, there were child soldiers in Biafra. Before the genocide in Rwanda, there was the genocide in Biafra. Before the ethnic cleansing attempts in Kosovo, Bosnia and Herzegovina, there was an attempt to erase the Igbo people by the Nigerians, sanctioned by Great Britain, and for nine hundred and twelve days they did their very worst — 912 days!!
The Igbo people were massacred. The Igbo people were starved to death. They were brought to the very brink of annihilation, but like a phoenix, the Igbo man rose — from the ashes of despair, from the depths of ruin — renewed, reinvigorated. The indestructibility of a people and a belief in themselves that often confuses their detractors shone through.
Situations like these, birth leaders for a people who needed to be led. This literature was written for those Igbo men, those traders, those industrialists, who looked adversity in the face and beat it back with a corner shop; who carried their money in their pockets and waistbands away from Awolowo, and expanded their businesses by opening more corner shops as their wealth grew. Through hard work and sheer grit, these men created an apprenticeship and wealth-transfer scheme never before seen anywhere. This apprenticeship created more businessmen and millionaires.
To these great men and women who, in the face of adversity and enemies never before imagined, braced themselves, hunkered down, dug their feet into the sand, raised both hands, shoulders down, took a deep breath, and pushed back — it is because of you and what you did that we now have great industry leaders, great politicians, bankers, engineers, and industrialists here in Igboland. These men stood tall in hell; they stood tall in hell, and because of them, the Igbo nation rose again from the ashes of Biafra; the Igbo man rose again with a spirit that can never be destroyed.
On one side of Britain’s two-pound coin is an inscription attributed to Sir Isaac Newton: “Standing on the shoulders of giants.” Generations of Igbo people have stood on your shoulders, and for that we owe you a debt of gratitude beyond words. In the depths of despair, you rose with the determination only an Igbo man can muster. Though you were beaten back, you remained resilient, and because of you a generation of great Igbo men and women rose and prevailed.
To you, our Ezigbo Ndigbo, thank you for the Igbo man that you were. My generation—and those yet to come—remain grateful.
— Ndewo!