"Biafra is a legacy of life, a harrowing human heritage, and a hauteur of history, but this presentation is not about Biafra. It is not about the 30-month, brutally bloody war." So began the first Biafran War Memorial Lecture. It is a screeching shame that no Nigerian regime has deemed it fit to beatify the sacrifices of three million souls who perished in what officials love to label the "Civil Disturbances of 1966-1970." Nigeria is probably the only country to fight a civil war and go about wiping away the relics of its genocidal legacy. In the process, the victor smoothly and steadfastly keeps the dumbfounded vanquished down and out of nation-building efforts.

Regardless of personal persuasions, politics, prejudice and sentiments, there are important lessons to learn from the rich but bitter Biafra experiences. Unfortunately, barely 30 years after the fact and with gigantic gains in science and scholarship, a good grasp of what Biafra represents still eludes many. We wrestle with the present political problems without recognizing past political mistakes, outrageous misuse of power, gross misappropriation of immense natural and human resources, and humongous misrepresentations.

Some say: "Why don't we forget Biafra... let go?" Others wonder why we attach so much importance to a defining dark era in Igbo nation’s historical heritage. It may well be, but it is your history too, our heritage. People who do not know when and where it started raining on them have little chance of knowing when it stopped raining on them. Which raises the question: Who are you and who are we? Who are these people who have forgotten when and where it started raining on them? Are these people suffering from collective, conveniently selective amnesia? Is this fancy forgettery a classical case of inexcusable ignorance?

Is this presentation necessary? Yes, or we would not in 1997 be talking about endless ethnic enmities, and experiencing persistent political problems that threaten to destroy humanity in the Eden of evolution and cradle of civilization: Africa.

Those who say remembering Biafra resurrects the pains are right. The process of remembering injustices and atrocities is a process of reclaiming our sanity and humanity. By reclaiming humanity, we recapture our sense of self and lost innocence.

When writing about Biafra, it is preferred to separate nuts from bolts. One of the nuts is the Igbo Pogrom; the bolt, Biafra proper. As in all nut-and-bolt assemblies, these two fit into the darkest era of Nigerian history like butter on hot toast. However, because it is all too easy to fall prey to the domino theory in history, I have since learned to separate the two.

The Pogrom and Biafra are inter-linked, but one is not the other; rather, the latter is a direct consequence of the former. The Pogrom might not in itself justify the secession of the Igbo and their minorities, but it sure was enough reason to reconsider being a part of a hostile, sour union.

Many Nigerian ethnic groups can fault the Igbo until the clouds closes in on earth, but they cannot truly find a rope with which to hang the ordinary Igbo family, who has no part in coups d’état or in post-independence political chicanery. It is a simple fact. No matter which side one leans, Nigerians must never put up with such atrocities. Remembering them helps us all to rewrite our rhetoric of revolution, and tone down our tart-tongued xenophobic utterances.

The Pogrom is a chilling word on its own before you find out what it actually means. Was it sad? Yes. Was it crass? Yes. Do some Nigerians wish it never happened? Maybe, maybe not. Fact is, a certain group was set upon by other ethnic groups and butchered like unwholesome Christmas chickens. Why? Simple: ethnicity. Then there was religion and language. In the West and up North, Easterners—mostly the Igbo—were so dehumanized it churned stomachs. Why? Anger. Frustration. Hate. Ignorance. How could this atrocity have happened in a country? Many questions, few answers.

The Igbo Pogrom is a sad chapter in Nigeria’s turbulent history. No one is ever going to sweep it under the carpet. It is an indelible stain of shame on Yakubu Gowon’s junta. This shameful act will abide with the Nigerian state for as long as there are human beings on earth. It happened—there is no debating it. Gowon knew it would happen. He did nothing to stop it when it happened.

So what was this genocide all about? How could these atrocities have happened? As in all traumatic massacres, from ancient, ethnic enmities that date back to the first Homo Sapiens, through Euro-driven chattel slavery to 23 centuries of anti-Semitism that culminated in the massacre of European Jewry, there are four basic processes that lead to such heinous evil and etch murder mayhem on our collective history. They are:

Remote Reason— Resentment

Latent Reason—Ethnic Tension

Circumstantial Reason—Jaundiced Junta

Immediate Reason— Pretext to Light the Pyre of Perfidy

Biafra happened. Broken bonds of bitter brotherhood. How? Why? Briefly: There was a pogrom. Atrocities were committed. There were meetings. Conferences, ad-hocs and consultative. Talks of the North seceding, of the West following, and of Mid-West watching. Aburi, Ghana: General Ankrah brokered an accord, engineered by British peripatetic policy, or so we thought. Yakubu Gowon’s regime had a change of heart, thanks again to the neocolonial office of British Prime Minister Harold Wilson.

The good-as-gold accord on confederacy metamorphosed into a unilateral dozen-state arrangement on May 27, 1967. Three days later, on May 30, 1967, Odumegwu-Ojukwu, reportedly against his personal wish, declared the East independent. Who in his right mind could have picketed potent patriotism? Igbo nationalism was unstoppable; it boiled over. The Eastern minority initially played along. Who wouldn't. One moon and seven days later, the firecrackers were lit. Bloody war. Thirty months later, it was all over.

This story is told on the following pages. No fiction, just facts. Of course, there is much more to Biafra. We will revisit them in future in these three years of commemoration.

Why beatify Biafra? Simple: it is an expensive sacrifice in blood and sweat for the survival of a people. Biafra had to happen. Somehow. Somewhere. Anywhere but in Igboland. It happened—in Igboland. And the rest is history, or is it. By simply fighting to preserve some sanity in a reign of anarchy and major minorities’ resentment, a few Igbo sons inadvertently turned the ashes on their own— with the help of their own ethnic brethren who should have known better. And so we fought our war, our way.

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culled from KWENU: Beyond Biafra,

~ Christopher Okigbo, 

poet, Biafran War hero

Biafra was a blessing for those who reaped the benefits, albeit marked by horrible deaths and horrendous sufferings. The Northern élite, politicians and feudal lords alike, had no intention of letting the minority groups into the corridors of power. Neither the Tiv Revolt nor the grumbling of its Christian, ethnic entities made a difference. In the South, the Western and Eastern élite behaved like lords of anointed peoples. It took the war to allow a change in leadership and the emergence of many minorities as more-than-equal partners in the senior league of Nigeria's tripodal body politic. Thanks to Biafra.

But it all went down the drain. With an unimaginable wealth and immense leaps in scholarship, this country has failed to live up to expectation. Nigeria’s postwar policies smacked of vendetta most vile. What started with the catchy and credible "No Victor, No Vanquished," took off with primitive policies reminiscent of Huns trashing European tribes in their dark ages. By the time it was over, Gowon had laid the foundation for a classical case of win-the-war-and-lose-the-peace. The peace won with so much human blood, brutality and humiliation of humanity was sacrificed at the altar of pettiness and meanness. Nigeria today is not morally better than it was before Biafra—it is worse. It is dangerously divided and dangling on the peak of abyss. The center barely holds.

What is wrong with Nigeria?

Everyone seems to be an expert in "The Trouble with Nigeria" (apology to Chinua Achebe). There are probably a gazillion things wrong with Nigeria, if you do not count the opinion of foreign "expertriates." According to Achebe, the problem is with the leadership. Ike Omar Sanda Nwachukwu, a retired general and ex-foreign minister, said the trouble was that Nigerians were not patriotic enough. I wonder why. Joseph Nanven Garba, another retired general and ex-foreign minister, said the problem was with the people who allowed leaders to get away with socio-political rape.

Bashorun M. K. O. Abiola would say: give me my sacred mandate and you can have El Dorado. Sam (SG) Ikoku, an elder statesman and ex-Awolowo apostle, blamed the "foibles of present day leadership." To Dr. N. K. Chukunta, a humanities professor, Nigerians tend to peddle too much cynicism; always emphasizing the negative instead of the positive attributes. It goes on and on.

Fact is: Nigeria's raison d’être is never seriously analyzed. There is nothing basically wrong with the leadership nor with people who live in this British-tinkered artificiality. Civilian or military, successive regimes have capable hands—and there is no shortage of praise-singing posses or any-government-in-power army, a class of cowardly citizens. Yet the giant sleeps on.

It is a long way to Uhuru. It is an uphill task because, while Europeans formed new states along defined ethnolinguistic lines, they carved up ancient African nation-states along arbitrary lines. So while Europe's ethnolinguistic entities became seamless nation-states, African nations force-bonded to become dysfunctional states. The solution therefore is for Nigerians to count their loses and retrace their steps back to day one. The nations that were force-bonded to become Nigeria must go back to the drawing board.

There is no need to search for a new political ideology. There is one that African nations have lived by, one that Biafra enjoins us to follow: constructive coexistence. It is has been practiced by nations big and small. Nations have merged and emerged as strong empires. Some succumb to self-destruction, while others simple melt into the dominant culture. It is a natural process of social evolution devoid of the shock therapy of alien nation-building.

Constructive coexistence safeguards the liberty of individuals and every ethno-religious entity—not group interests. Instead of another white-elephant democracy the military knows will fail as soon as the generals retire to bank directorships, they should forget timetables and set up local administrations based on principles that reflect sociocultural realities. It is not about black and white, but how we deal with our natural and or nurtured propensity toward factors that divide rather than unite. Nationalism is not a concept powerful politics and military might can hoist upon the powerless poor; it is a reality of life that takes centuries to cement.

To build a nation, Nigerians must first confront their differences, and move on to build a state that is sensitive to the aspirations of its many nations. Nigerian nationalism will eventually emerge from a good ethnic mix and the goodwill of those who live in a geopolitical boundary called anything but present neocolonial "Nigeria"

People pay a price for peace, but the price for peace does not have be this high. State creation is a false currency. It breeds subethnic jingoism. It takes away from the nurtured nationalism. It will not solve the problem by Biafranizing Nigeria. The military and the civilians play their game of musical chairs with this currency. Every child in Nigeria now knows the recess as "ku." In each stage, the horde of political prostitutes parade their wares as advisers, experts and ministers. Something snaps sooner than later, and it is down the alley again: ethnic conflicts, another "ku" (coup), another constitution conference, and yet another transition.

I know the military man. I have friends in the military. I was a Biafran soldier. During my national youth corps, I underwent para-military training. I have hobnobbed with many fine men in uniform. I know that the military man has a heart. His heart could be at the wrong place presently, because of his checkered history and taking on roles he is ill-equipped to handle without the so-called bloody civilians. The politician, especially the professional political prostitute, I still wonder where his heart is—if he has a heart.

So, if the vicious cycle of coups-deceitful-democracy continues, someone must stop the train for a little reality check. Where are we? Where are we coming from? What forced the last stop, and what happened at the last stop called "Biafra"? How did we restart the engine? How many different drivers have we had? Ten in four brief stops, why? Where are we going by the way? How do we get there? Who wants to drive the rest of the way? Will he force another stop? Would a crazy passenger jump the driver? Many questions, one simple answer: revisit the entire spectrum of the lasting lessons of the Biafran legacy—before and beyond. The prorogued poetry that Nigeria is might take a while to finish. Then the fat lady would sing. From the Elysian fields, Christopher Okigbo would admire the epic he began 30 years ago, before he laid down near an Igbo altar at Nsukka sector and made the supreme self-sacrifice for Biafra. And the poem shall be finished.

Bottling Biafra was not the best way to appease its spirit. It is not something you "kill"; you cannot kill a fact of life: you learn to live with it. Africa has flatly refused to recognize its ethnic soul. The élite hope it will go away so they can live in their neocolonial utopia of states carved out along colonial concepts. The disregard for the ethnic factor in African politics haunts the continent from Dakar to Dar-Es-Salaam, from Cape Town to Cairo. We have learnt little from our tragic trip so far. We have learnt too little too late. A sad society indeed. What a shame.