My Roots, My Love, My Destiny

MY ROOTS, MY LOVE,

MY DESTINY

Beatrice Akpu Inyang Eleje

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

My Roots, My Love, My Destiny

Copyright © 2012 Beatrice Akpu Inyang Eleje

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Photo Credits: All photographs are from the Author’s collection.

ISBN: 978-1-4759-3467-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-3469-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-3468-7 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 06/17/2013

Contents

Preface

Prologue

MY ROOTS

1   Afikpo In Early 20th Century

2   My Matrilineal Clan–Ibe Odom Ali

3   My Maternal Grandmother: Orie Ugbo

4   My Mother, Ogeri Orie Egwu

5   My Patrilineal Kindred, Nde Nwachi Udu

6   Enugu In The Early 20th Century

7   Auchi In Early 20th Century

8   Father, Peter Okpani Nwachi

9   The Incident Of The Talisman

10   The Fate Of Twins In 20th Century Afikpo

GROWING UP IN MID-20TH CENTURY AFIKPO

Author’s Note

11   A Single Girl-Child Is Born

12   Christmas At Enugu In Mid-20th Century

13   Suitors’ Invasion

14   My First Marriage

15   A Widow At Twenty

16   Struck Down By The Same Illness

FATE

Prologue

17   The Pest Surfaced Again

18   Love Crept In Unobserved

MY LOVE, MY DESTINY

Prologue

19   My Word Is My Walking-Stick

20   We Sought My Parents’ Approval

21   Ifeanyichukwu—Nothing Beats God

22   Settling Into Marriage

23   The Nigerian Civil War

24   No Victor, No Vanquished

25   Alas! My Love Is No More

26   Life Without IE

THE MAMA WE KNOW

Addendum

27   The Children

To my ever cherished husband

LATE CHIEF INYANG ELEJE, OMERIOHA I OF AFIKPO

To whom l owe my very life, through God’s intervention

and

MY CHILDREN AND GRANDCHILDREN

Whose loving care has sustained me in my old age

Acknowledgment

The thought of writing my life’s story came to me as an inspiration from God who created me, stood by me throughout my life’s challenges, joys and triumphs; to Him be the Glory.

My appreciation go to my loving parents, late Osuu Peter Okpani Nwachi and Odoziaku Ogeri Okpani Nwachi who brought me up in the fear of God—taught me love, not malice; care for the less privileged, not scorn. Above all, I thank my parents for sending me to school at a time when a girl-child was not considered important enough to be sent to school in my part of the world. Since childhood they had always showered love on my siblings and I, thus making us feel very special and wanted.

Special thanks go to my late mother for bestowing the name, Awo upon my daughter, Esther, which led to the telling of mother’s story and the writing of this book.

My son, Architect Eddie Eleje who in 2007 when I first tinkered with the idea of writing my memoir encouraged me to develop it into a book after reading the first hand written draft in a school notebook. His wife Gloria who, excited at my modest attempt, though in her full term of pregnancy typed the first draft of the manuscript which was later fine tuned by Honorable Justice (Mrs.) Esther Awo Ota in Gambia, whose birth inspired the writing of this book; my beloved son Willie and his good wife Ego for reading the original manuscript and making useful suggestions.

Sir Ifeanyichukwu Eleje and Dr. Austin Eleje, my first and second sons who would never know how much their admiration, approval and support of my modest attempt meant to me and kept me going when I wanted to quit; their wives, Lady Priscilla Ifeanyi Eleje and Mrs. Ngozi Austin Eleje who not only encouraged me, but went the extra mile to ensure that this book was published.

My wonderful daughters: Mrs. Immaculata Oko who stayed by me, always advising me to rest to avoid a breakdown; Mrs. Florence Cee Ononiwu for her constant daughterly encouragement and praise of the effort being made on the book; Dr (Mrs) Betty Eleje-Okolie who ensured the supply of all my needs in relation to the success of the work in hand; Mrs. Becky Ejim Elenwo for her loving phone prayers, which sustained me to the end; and my beloved sister, Elder (Mrs.) Grace Orieoma Oti and her family whose contributions enriched the book tremendously; Jokwa nwerem.

My appreciation also go to Mrs. Ugo Agada-Uyah, a retired Federal Director of Culture whose encouragement gingered me on; for the long hours she spent revising and giving accuracy to the cultural and historical contents of the story; for designing the family tree and proffering many useful advice which made the book the success I believe it would be.

My thanks also go to my other numerous sons and daughters out there I couldn’t mention, for their support and encouragement; especially Henry Inya Elechi and Helen Azubike, alias Nyedi, without whom I might not have been able to cope.

God reward you all, Amen.

Preface

For some years I have had the urge to put the story of my lineage in writing for posterity, for my children and my children’s children—letting them know the ties that bind them, the roots that formed them and the experiences that shaped their lives.

In the first part of the book I’ve recounted my mother’s story as she told it to me. In it we see how our roots, our ways, our values, shaped her destiny. But I’ve left out many other interesting stories she told me too numerous to be accommodated in a book of this size. I’ve therefore, selected only a few of those stories I believe she wanted me to share, not only with members of her lineage, but also with the general public. Her story started five years into the 20th century to end just at the tail end of it, at the ripped old age of 96 years.

Part two is my story, which started in the middle of the twentieth century and continued till date. Listening to mother’s story had brought home to me the similarity in our life’s journeys which prompted me to add mine to add mine to hers. I did that believing that both stories would inspire younger women to persevere in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds. Younger generations need to know that no matter how dark the tunnel of life they found themselves in, the light that signifies its end may just be around the corner. They just need to take the next step. They need to think of me, think of mother, plod on; may the good Lord go with them. Amen.

Prologue

The cock crowS at

the birth of a new dawn

Okokoriko-o-o-o! cried the mid-wife in front of my house, announcing the birth of my new baby, the birth of a new generation.

U-u-u-u! responded every married woman within earshot, as dropping everything they were doing they raced towards the direction the mid-wife’s song was coming from.

"Iro bia kele muo-o-o-o! Even my enemies are free to come and greet me-o-o-o!" the mid-wife continued ecstatically, as she danced in front of my house, the chosen home of the new generation.

"Ya kele kwari, ya kwari muo-o-o-o! Let the enemy’s good wishes remain with me-o-o-o!" The women responded, running faster towards the source of the mid-wife’s song, the focus of the new dawn.

"Ekele onye iro! Greetings of an enemy," the mid-wife continued.

"Mao–o-o-o, njo–o-o-o! Whether good or bad," the women now on the scene responded and waited with bated breaths for the final announcement from the mid-wife that would reveal the sex of the new born child.

"Nwa ulo mue! A girl-child is born to me," the mid-wife announced jubilantly, as surrounded by the assembled women she rubbed white power all over her body, a symbol of the baby as a sign of peace and innocence.

Nwa ulo mue! Nwa ulo mue! Nwa ulo mue! Every woman there took up the cry joyfully, dancing, jubilating and covering their whole bodies with white powder.

"Ojeke oje…Where ever you want to go," the mid-wife continued.

"Jeo-o-o! Go-o-o," the women chorused.

"Oji je ubi! Those going to the farm," the mid-wife encouraged.

"Jeo-o-o! Go-o-o!" the women affirmed.

"Oji je nku! Those going to fetch firewood," the mid-wife sang.

"Jeo-o-o! Go-o-o!" the women affirmed again.

"Ekele onye iro! Greetings of an enemy," the mid-wife reminded them.

"Mao-o-o, njo-o-o; nwa ulo mue! nwa ulo mue! nwa ulo mue!..Whether good or bad, a girl-child has been born to me," the women cried as they danced all over the place.

I remember that day so well as if it were just yesterday. From the moment the mid-wife’s song imitating cock-crow at dawn rang out announcing the break of a new dawn, the birth of a new generation everybody heaved a sigh of relief. For Okokoriko meant many things in Afikpo: It meant that all was well, there was no abomination whatsoever! It wasn’t a twin-birth or a breeched-birth; it was a healthy, single baby girl. Her fingers were all there, her toes were complete and mother and child were doing just fine! There was no cause for mourning; a new generation had made its entrance in our midst, everybody was free to go about their business—all was well!

So every married woman whether from my village or not who heard the midwife’s song rushed to my house to share my joy—friends and foes alike as the mid-wife had generously invited on my family’s behalf—for the new dawn illuminating the whole community transcended ancient enmities.

On the other hand, if it had been a breeched birth, a twin-birth, a finger or a toe missing, any of those would’ve been considered an abomination. There would have been no Okokoriko to announce the birth; the whole community would’ve been thrown into deep mourning.

But it was the birth of a single bouncing baby girl.

My husband Chief Inyang Eleje, Omerioha I of Afikpo who had been waiting anxiously in his house since I went into labor, on hearing the mid-wife’s jubilant song heralded the baby’s entrance into the world and my safe delivery with a volley of gun-shots from his double-barreled gun: Katim! Katim! Katim, the shots rang out.

His friends on hearing the rapid gun releases knew at once that he was announcing his wife’s safe delivery and hurried to his house to rejoice with him. In his ecstasy he brought out an assorted array of drinks to celebrate with them that ranged from—fresh foaming undiluted palm-wine he had ordered as soon as I went into labor, ekpeteshii…native gin, whisky, brandy, schnapps, ordinary wine—you name it, it was there.

He was so happy; the baby was my seventh child for him; making them three boys and four girls, enough boys to carry on his lineage and enough girls to replenish my clan.

As soon as he had sorted out his friends, he quickly dispatched our driver to my village, Ndibe to bring my mother. According to our custom my mother would stay at least three months with me or until I was strong enough to take care of myself and the baby.

With the driver gone to bring mother my husband’s attention was claimed by the women who danced to his house to formally inform him of my safe delivery and rejoice with him and his friends. They offered him and his friends the white powder they had been pouring liberally all over their bodies. My husband took the powder and rubbed it round his left elbow to show the baby was a girl-child. If it had been a boy he would have rubbed it round his right elbow.

His friends showered the women with monetary gifts. My husband released another round of gun-shots to acknowledge their news. He then went on to make a presentation of five big yam tubers and a big stick of dried fish to them with which to cook the Okokoriko meal for me and all who had come to celebrate the birth of the new baby with me. The women were awed by the size of the yams and fish. They had never seen such generosity, such lavish show of love and appreciation. Each yam and fish was as long as my leg, from hips down, and I‘m a fairly tall woman. The women danced back to my mother-in-law’s house with their gifts to cook the Okokoriko meal.

I lay back exhausted on the bed tired, but fulfilled, basking in the glow of my husbands’ love, surrounded by the out pouring of goodwill from all the people around me. My baby the focus of all that attention was sucking contently at my breast. She was nameless yet.

It was my family’s turn to name my offspring.

Afikpo naming pattern was interesting; from the names of the children you could easily piece together the genealogy of that family. The first girl in a family was usually given the name of the paternal grandmother by the father or she could be given the name of any of her ancestress on her father’s side that the father wished to honor; while the naming of the second baby girl was the prerogative of the wife’s family. The naming of the male-children in the family followed the same pattern; with the father naming the first male-child after his father or grandfather, while his wife named the second male-child after her father; it went on intermittently like that.

So in a polygamous family where a man had more than one wife, all first sons would bear the name of their paternal grandfather but bore their mothers’ names as surnames. However that isn’t the only reason why children bear their mother’s names in Afikpo.

The driver was soon back; my village, Ndibe was only six kilometers from my husband’s village of Ozizza. As soon as my mother arrived the air became charged with excitement again. As she stepped out of the car she started the Okokoriko song again and the women rallied round her and the jubilation started all over again. Any woman who had missed the first phase of the celebration that heard her song ran to our house.

My husband welcomed my mother to our home with three-gun salute: Katim! Katim! Katim, they went again. Mother had a big tin of white talc powder which she offered to my husband and his friends.She was covered in it from head to toe. She was ecstatic! Her joy was infectious. My husband and his friends reciprocated by showering her and the women with monetary gifts.

It’s my turn to name the child, mother teased my husband.

I know Mama, my husband responded with a smile. Nobody is contesting your right to name the child.

Mother simply smiled at him. They both got on so well, their mutual love for me a strong bond between them.

Her name is Awo, mother pronounced.

Iya-a-a-a! my husband exclaimed and laughed. I also have Awo in my lineage, so, I’ve gained.

Awo, I asked mother hesitantly searching my memory for such ancestress in our family tree, but in vain. I couldn’t remember hearing such a name. So I asked mother the origin of the name Awo in our lineage.

You’re tired, she said. You’ve just been through difficult labor, rest; when you’re stronger, I’ll tell you the origin of the name.

That was how it all started. The naming of my fifth baby girl sparked off the story of "Ikwu era m…my matrilineal breast," tracing it to as far back as mother could remember.

In order not to forget, l quickly put it into a song, using the so-la-fa for easy comprehension; it went thus:

This is her story!

Part One

My Roots

1

Afikpo In Early 20th Century

My mother, Ogeri Orie Okpani was of Ibe Odom Ali matrilineal clan. She was the only surviving child of my grandparents—Orie Ugbo, my maternal grandmother and Egwu Ogeri, my maternal grandfather—before my grandfather’s premature death a few months after my mother’s birth.

Her roots were from Afikpo, an ancient, culturally rich town in the then Eastern Region of Nigeria, now in Afikpo North Local Government Area of Ebonyi State in Nigeria, West Africa. Afikpo, situated at the extreme north-east of the state, right on the banks of the middle Cross River just where it turned south wards on its journey to empty into the Atlantic Ocean was a beautiful hilly town, well watered and well secured. It nested in a trough of soothing undulating hills, in an elevation of 250 to 300 feet above sea level. Its eastern border was protected by the Cross River, while the west, the north and the south were protected by a limestone ridge of considerable extent which extended to Okigwe, Agwu and Enugu Axis.

Afikpo lay between open grassland of the savannah region to the north; and tropical rain forest belt that bordered the banks of the Cross River to the south. It enjoyed a warm tropical climate with two pronounced seasons: rainy season and dry season. At the height of the dry season the town experienced a brief period of harmattan which Afikpo people called Uguru; a period of dry dusty chilly weather.

It had a population of over 130,000 people, according to the Nigerian Census of 2000 and consisted of 30 compact villages, which in the course of the centuries had amalgamated into five village-groups, namely—Nkpoghoro, Ugwuegu, Ohaisu, Itim and Ozizza. That arrangement made for administrative convenience and was said to reflect the sequence in which the different Igbo migrant groups came into Afikpo. The five village-groups were bound together by common governmental institutions, rituals, economic and numerous social ties.

Afikpo was a border town between Igbo speaking peoples of the South Eastern States of Nigeria and their non-Igbo speaking peoples of the Cross River States with the Cross River forming a natural boundary between the two peoples but was not a barrier to cross-cultural fertilization between them. Her proximity to her non-Igbo neighbours greatly influenced her culture. The two cultures blended with the ancient cultures of the Egus—a non-Igbo peoples, autochthons of the area—whom Igbo migrants who arrived in the area around seventeenth century conquered and absorbed to form modern day Afikpo. In social organizations such features as double descent system, compact villages with age grade structure and some secret societies were said to be non-Igbo. Even some Afikpo names like: Okpani, Ewah, Okon, Inyang and Obasi were believed to be Efik in origin. Such cross-cultural influences greatly enriched Afikpo culture.

2

My Matrilineal Clan–Ibe Odom Ali

The organization of Afikpo society was a mixture of matrilineal groups, Ikwu and patrilineal groups, Umunna known as double descent system in anthropological terms. In the pure double descent system into which my mother was born in the first half of the 20 th century each individual was a member of groups that traced their descent from both male and female ancestry—patrilineal, a male ancestor through male line only; and matrilineal from a female ancestress through female line only. Thus, instead of being matrilineal or patrilineal as were other Igbo societies Afikpo was both.

At that time and as of now Ikwu system was so strong that members of the same clan couldn’t marry each other no matter how distant the relationship. As long as they were of the same clan it was an abomination to even contemplate marriage between them much less carry it through, it was considered to be incestuous. Thus, if two people of the same clan unknowingly got married, the moment their relationship became known the marriage would be dissolved, the abomination quickly exorcised with purification sacrifices to appease Mother Earth.

In addition, ikwu ties were so strong that if any member of a clan were killed by a member of another matrilineal clan, the clan had the obligation of blood revenge to avenge it against the offending clan. As a result, once such a crime was committed every member of the offending clan would run away from Afikpo for fear of retaliation by the affected Ikwu. That was because it was accepted that the head of any member of the erring clan could be taken for appeasement. In some cases it could be negotiated, but such cases were rare.

The ties that bound members of the same clan were stronger than the ties that bound members of a patrilineal group. Your matrilineal clan was everything. They owned you, your children and your possessions. For instance, my mother’s direct descent line known as Odom Ali matrilineal clan was traced from our great ancestress called: Odom Naakpa. That made any member of Odom Naakpa my close cousin, what Afikpo would call Ikwu era m…my matrilineal breast. That made such a person a very close relation, the person was believed to be as close to me as my own children and my sister’s children and were certainly considered closer to me than my father’s other children from different mothers.

That social situation greatly affected Afikpo man’s attitude towards his children whom he saw as belonging to his wife’s clan; and their wives who saw the children as belonging to them. As a result men tended to lean towards their sister’s children rather than towards their own natural children. At mother’s time the main reason for marriage between a man and a woman of different clans was to procreate, to perpetuate