Certain experiences refuse to go off the mind. Try as much as possible to push them behind, they keep coming. I had one in the dying days of the 1969-1970 Nigeria-Biafra War, when, as kids, we were at a point forced out of the comfort of our homes for momentary exile inside the bushes far from the village. The action was the immediate response by our parents to the ceaseless shelling and raids by the ravenous federal forces.
Every noise from an approaching fighter jet signalled death. But in our childish innocence, we saw the entire thing as fun and the temporary relocation as an excursion. What we, however, never forgot was to dive into a nearby ditch for cover at the sound of an aircraft, whether it was from "our people" or "the enemy", as we heard elderly ones say. Days later, we were set to return to the village. The paradox of fun in an atmosphere of uncertainty and imminent death had ended. We had palm fronds tied on our wrists and were asked to chorus; "One Nigeria!" The war or rather, the field hostilities had ended! The Biafran enterprise had been brought to an abrupt end and the heroic endeavours of a people to take their destiny in their hands terminated. To paraphrase the iconic writer, Professor Chukwuemeka Ike, it was sunset at dawn.
Back home, the realities of the 30-month strife stared us in the face. Houses had been ransacked and precious items stolen. Some were razed and the owners displaced. As in the words of the poet, John Pepper (JP) Clark, they were like fish doped out of water belly wise. It was confusion everywhere. The teaching that war is an ill-wind that does no one any good sank in.
That was exactly the memory that surged back to my mind last week from two related incidents on Lilu community, in Ihiala Local Government Area of Anambra State and another from Agwa, Oguta council, Imo State. In one of such, a viral video captured a man addressing indigenes of Lilu. He assured them that normalcy had returned to the community and they should return to their homes. The precise location where the clip was shot was not stated. One thing was clear: from the faces of the distraught residents, it was certain that they still lived in fear, fear of their future and fear of the unknown.
A virtual account of the true situation in Lilu by the Palace Secretary, Dominic Okoli, at a function by the Amnesty International, a foremost non-governmental organisation (NGO), brought the message home in more gruesome form. Lilu is one of the communities cut in the crossfire between the Nigerian military and the so-called unknown gunmen and agitators for a separate state of Biafra.
Since 2020 when the operations started, Lilu has been reduced to a ghost town, community life obliterated and its streets deserted. According to Okoli, 25 villagers have been kidnapped, many killed, while 30 houses have been razed. The traditional ruler of the community, Igwe Godson Onyediri, along with many notable residents, are in exile, while their mansions in the village have been reduced to ashes. The town's New Yam Festival, which holds every first week of September, has not been observed in the last five years. "In Lilu, you can smell tension and death in the air", the Palace Secretary cried.
Being uprooted from one's homestead and made a refugee in another man's home is one nasty experience that should not be wished on even an enemy. Even if Lilu indigenes eventually find their way to their villages, the impacts of their present dislocation will linger in the years ahead.
Nduka Ozor narrated similar unlawful killings in Agwa, lamenting how a community that was ordinarily blessed with arable land had been rendered uncertain following the discovery of oil in its bosom. What pained him most was the climate of insecurity that had enveloped the town. For illustration, he played a video of his relation, a lawyer and retired police officer, who visited home but was abducted and butchered. The assailants merely called the family to go and pick his corpse. At this point, Ozor was seized by emotion and broke down in tears. There was pin-drop silence in the hall. The picture was gory and horrifying.
As it was in Lilu and Agwa, so was the ugly story in parts of Orsumoghu, Isseke, Ihiala, Owerre Ezukala, Awa, Umunze, Isulo and some other communities in Anambra State. On the Imo parts were Orsu Ihiteukwa, Awo Idemili, Awomamma, Orlu, Mbano, Okigwe, Ihitte-Uboma, where gunmen had held sway, leaving in their trail blood and destruction. Bereaved families paid ransom to bury loved ones.
The trend resonated in almost all the states in the South East. Security agents sent to restore peace in the area have equally not helped matters in their approach. Consequently, the zone has been flowing with the blood of indigenes and residents. A detailed report by Amnesty International, titled "A decade of impunity: attacks and unlawful killings in South East Nigeria", stated that 1,844 people were killed in the region between January 2021 and 2023. In Imo alone, 400 people were killed by gunmen between 2019 and 2021. Director, Amnesty International Nigeria, Isa Sanusi, was at pains reeling out the numbers. These are of course, documented figures. Some of the casualties would remain unaccounted for.
Now, this is a zone not at war. Every right-thinking Nigerian should be bothered at the situation. In its 2016 national human development report for Nigeria, the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) rated the South East the most human security secure geopolitical zone in the country. UNDP defined human security as safety from chronic threats such as hunger, disease and repression as well as protection from sudden and harmful disruptions in patterns of daily life whether in homes, jobs or communities.
Nine years after, the zone has lost its ambience; the tranquil environment that had enabled its people put their spirit of industry and enterprise at work. In its place, insecurity and lawlessness have taken over. The region is currently mentioned as byword for violence and insecurity. This is a huge irony. Leaders of the South East and the federal government owe it a duty to restore peace in the region.
Those agitating for justice and equity for the zone have strong points. But while pushing the agenda, caution should be applied to avoid inflicting more hardship on the same people who are already squeezed to the corner by hardship. The people who fend for themselves through daily activities, cannot be continually shut out of their businesses by the weekly Monday sit-at-home order. Doing so would mean punishing them more.