‘THERE WAS A COUNTRY’ BY CHINUA ACHEBE PERSONAL REFLECTION ON THE DARK DAYS OF NIGERIA CIVIL WAR

Back in 1967, two ‘…young Sandhurst-trained soldiers…were the principal actors in the Nigeria-Biafra civil war. Fast-track to today; the two, ex-soldiers, one; Odumegwu Ojukwu, before his death, at 78 years old, extremely wealthy, enjoyed a rich public and private life of abundance, remarried and saw all his children grow. The other; Yakubu Gowon, now 78 years old, also exceedingly prosperous, alive and well, has seen all his children grow and presently seating on the board of several ‘do good,’ organizations in Nigeria. Many, however, particularly millions of women and children were not so lucky, they died in that war of attritions-starved or raped to death or hacked till dead in a war they knew nothing about, fought, not in a neutral battleground between soldiers but in the compounds, communities and lives of the South-Easterners, that was Biafra. The Nigerian government was the victor, with millions of lives from both sides, vanquished, worst hit being those on the side of Biafra. The grimness of what life was is what Chinua Achebe provides us a snip purview of in his poem, ‘Refugee mother and Child’:

‘No Madonna and Child could touch

Her tenderness for a son

She soon would have to forget…

The air was heavy with odors of diarrhea,

Of unwashed children with washed-out ribs

And dried-up bottoms waddling in labored steps

Behind blown-empty bellies. Most mothers there

Had long ceased to care, but not this one’

She held a ghost-smile between her teeth,

And in her eyes the memory

Of a mother’s pride…She had bathed him

And rubbed him down with bare palms.

She took from the bundle of their possessions

A broken comb and combed

The rust-colored hair left on his skull

And then-hemming in her eyes-began carefully to part it.

In their former life this was perhaps

A little daily act of no consequence

Before his breakfast and school; now she did it

Like putting flowers on a tiny grave.’

Chinua Achebe, no doubt, the world knows, is the magical story-teller of ‘things fall apart,’ fame. Here, in ‘There Was a Country,’ an experiential reflection, presented in documentary tell-tale style, the magic is capped gloriously.

Now, what were my expectations of his take on the civil war? Knowing him as though a writer, he was also a biased participant in the war. He provided the answer, ‘…How were we to think about the use of our talents? I can say that when a number of us decided that we would be writers, we had not thought through these questions very clearly. In fact, we did not have a clue what we were up against…A major objective was to challenge stereotypes, myths, and the image of ourselves and our continent, and to recast them through stories-prose, poetry, essays, and books for our children…My own assessment is that the role of the writer is not a rigid position and depends to some extent on the state of health of his or her society. In other words, if a society is ill the writer has a responsibility to point it out. If the society is healthier, the writer’s job is different.’

 The book, ‘There Was a Country,’ reflects on the war combining three fundamental elements:

 The first element is colonial Britain. Though the British brought with them essential enlightenment and progress in the areas of education and exposure that helped fast-tracked the colony, Nigeria on the road to global standard development, it also laid a deep-seated institution that brought about the post-colonial, Nigeria disorganisation, crookedness, lawlessness, etc. He writes, ‘The British were well aware of the inner-ethnic tensions and posturing for power among the three main ethnic groups…the British were rapidly accepting the inevitability of independence coming to one of their major colonies, Nigeria…surely Great Britain had no plans to hand all these riches over without a fight…they brought a new governor-general from Sudan, Sir James Robertson, to take the reins in Nigeria…Nigerian independence came with a British governor-general in command, and, one might say, popular faith in genuine democracy was compromised from its birth…within six years of this colonial manipulation Nigeria was a cesspool of corruption and misrule.’

Secondly, the war reoriented Chinua Achebe and the Igbo race, to their reality; to becoming more tribal, sectional as Igbos than Nigerians; nationalists. He writes, ‘…following the coup saw Easterners attacked both randomly and in an organized fashion. There seemed to be a lust for revenge, which meant an excuse for Nigerians to take out their resentment on the Igbos who led the nation in virtually every sector-politics, education, commerce, and the arts. This group, the Igbo that gave the colonizing British so many headaches and then literally drove them out of Nigeria was now an open target, scapegoats for the failings and grievances of colonial and post-independence Nigeria…As many of us packed our belongings to return east. Some of the people we had lived with for years, some for decades, jeered…I realized suddenly that I had not been living in my home; I had been living in a strange place…I realized that the only valid basis for existence is one that gives security to you and your people…’

And, most critical of all, the third element is the participation of foreign governments. On the roles and support or otherwise of the international communities, he writes, ‘…even the most committed anarchist would have expected greater United Nations involvement. That did not happen, and I and several others believe that had the United Nations been more involved, there would not have been as many atrocities, as much starvation, as much death…’ Only the United States, few individuals and non-governmental organizations he says followed a neutral course, supplying food to Biafra at most critical times. All other countries, particularly, Britain or France, supplied arms to both Biafra and Nigeria, thereby, helping to prolong the war.

In the final analysis, Chinua, summed it up nicely; ‘what has consistently escaped most Nigerians in this entire travesty is the fact that mediocrity destroys the very fabric of a country as surely as a war-ushering in all sorts of banality, ineptitude, corruption, and debauchery. Nation enshrine mediocrity as their modus operandi, and create the fertile ground for the rise of tyrants and other base elements of the society, by silently assenting to the dismantling of systems of excellence because they do not immediately benefit one specific ethnic, racial, political, or special-interest group…’

I have enjoyed reading ‘There Was a Country,’ immensely savoured the richness of the magical-flavour ingredients of Achebe’s pen in this poems and prose documentation, sad that this is the last, the world would taste of his sauce.