NWAKPUDA SYNDROME
The prominent Nigerian novelist, Chinua Achebe had said “ until the lions have their own historians, the history of the hunt will always glorify the hunter”. History has a way of coming back a full circle, this time I pray it remains kind. I could picture that powerful king from Umuahia as he stood, feet ajar, welding high a slightly blunt edged machete, in full warrior regalia as he faced an incoming train, one that was test running the new mini gauge rails laid by the British colonial masters — in an attempt to create better trade routes from Port-Harcourt to Enugu. High chief Nwakpuda had revolted against this move by the British, saying that the trains will cart away women from his kingdom. I could picture him boasting all the way to the rail tracks as he recounted his bravado in previous wars. I could imagine him laughing aloud as the train honked, “ I have not touched this animal, and it is already crying”, he had repeatedly shouted just as the train sped past, mowed and crushed him under the dead weight of steel. A fool and a people’s hero’s life cut short by a “Hara-kiri styled” annihilation. A fool and a people’s hero who suffered from a syndrome that exhumed a grandiosity that beclouded common thinking faculties, one that conferred idiocy to human beings, blessing them with a false sense of pride that hardly separates the truth from a lie. A syndrome that wrecks havoc by brainwashing its victims, inflicting on them, spirits of self immolation and destruction, one that would not give up until the body is buried with the head.
I had journeyed back in trance to my village. I was a village guide to the health development team who had come to Orodo. They had gotten wind of the unlimited depot of our famous devil’s beans “Azhi-mgbada” laying untapped in “Ohia-duruoshimiri”. I had warned them of Nnodi, a great dibia, who used this beans to concoct war. I had warned them of his masquerade, who made people run in utter nakedness when they came in contact with his beans. I had assured them a safe pass given I was a son of the soil. The team had met Nnodi at the tip of Duruoshimiri, he was very apprehensive, ready to deploy the beans but then calmed down when he heard from the team’s rep that he was sitting on a gold mine. They told him that the devils beans was an important base used to treat a lot of ailments like Parkinson's, erectile dysfunction, snake bites, blood pressure and all sorts. They told him that they will convert the forest to a pharmaceutical hub where people from afar will scramble to visit and even went further to tickle his fancy, they had told him they might even name one of the drugs “Akugbara”. They even made him smile when they told him that he would be more powerful and richer than Anunaebe, his rival. Nnodi had a grin on his face, nodding his head in astonishment and then in an animated voice, he had asked if they can make red oil powerless as an antidote, that way “mfegi azhi mgbada, gi kwetagwodi na ona eme”, and if he will retain the powers to reverse harm, he also added “ Anunaebe o ga-agbakwa uto?” They had assured him that they would try their best but needed only his blessing. Nnodi was beaming with smiles as he left to rub minds with his father — Elijah, who was the custodian of the forest. He had told Pa Elijah that he will not bulge unless they make the red oil powerless. What happened next was unexpected. Pa Elijah was chasing Nnodi with a machete, screaming on top of his lungs “ Ichoghu ere ohia?, duruoshimiri kuwukwe gi”, who are you to give them conditions? They were running in circles as we stood in utter disbelief, watching as they exhausted all the wind they had left.
Then Pa Elijah had opened up, he broke down crying, saying that he had seen this play before. He recalled that very year Eze Dike from Umunyahu came with some people he claimed were oil explorers, who claimed they discovered some oil residue while on some road construction mission, we had chased them away, with a lot of conditions that ruined our chances, we had threatened to burn them alive. We would have been an oil exploring village, if for nothing else, remain on scholarship and “alawee” like those from Olobiri. He begged us not to listen to Nnodi, we should go ahead, we should use every part of the forest, that “kama agwo ga agbalaghari anyi, anyi egbubiri ya odu”, once bitten twice shy. We were thanking Pa Elijah when I woke up from my trance. That nwakpuda syndrome that enveloped us in that era and rubbed us the opportunity of an oil exploration status and probably its benefits is probably creeping closer again. We self mutilated ourselves that year and doing same as we speak. We had once more succumbed to a brainwashing that sees no good in progress, one that had closed the ears to a sense of reasoning. We had succumbed to that syndrome that will bury the region alive, one that is currently ravaging the east, one that will sink us forever if we do not fight to regain ourselves. Anyways, I would like to go back in trance, this time with an oil exploring team, to see if that oil residue still exist in our ohia Duruoshimiri. I pray I don't encounter ndi-nwakpuda syndrome, who will be brainwashed not to allow any good thing arrive my community, who would rather die than see the light, who will remain true to their genetic self destruction to annihilate everything of common good. This nwakpuda syndrome will eventually kill and bury my region — this I know for sure.
Orejiela o.
