Alex Ekwueme Foundation

Remembering the weaverbird

Introduction

Distinguished ladies and gentlemen:

We assemble here this afternoon in celebration; we assemble for an exhibition in celebration of Christopher Okigbo. This morning we had a literary feast; this evening we shall have a cultural feast; this afternoon-now-we will be having a visual feast. All these three sessions constitute the celebration Christopher Okigbo for today. But this celebration does not end today. It will continue in our homes, in schools, in every gathering wherever the poetry of Christopher Okigbo is read.

Christopher Okigbo and I

Christopher Okigbo was born in 1932; I also was born in 1932. His father was a Roman Catholic school teacher (headmaster) and this meant that they moved from town to town generally within the area of the Onitsha Catholic ecclesiastical province. My father was an Anglican church teacher and we also moved from town to town within the then Awka District of the Anglican Diocese on the Niger. In the course of these movements, Pa Okigbo was posted by the Catholic Mission to head the Catholic School in Ekwulobia which then read only up to standard 4. Our own movements brought us home to Oko and I enrolled as a pupil at the Anglican (CMS) Central School, Ekwulobia. Not surprisingly, although we were “age mates,” I did not see very much of Christopher in those days.

I say, “not surprisingly” because at that time, it was considered a “mortal sin” for RCM (Roman Catholic Mission) pupils to associate too closely with CMS (Church Missionary Society) pupils. We never played football against each other; RCM Ekwulobia would play against RCM Adazi or RCM Nimo, while CMS Ekwulobia would play against CMS Nnobi, CMS Nnewi, CMS Abagana and CMS Practising School, Awka. But we did see more of Christopher’s older cousin, Bede, who regularly passed in front of our house on his way from Ekwulobia to the Isiogwugwu stream in Oko to fetch water, Ekwulobia being somewhat considered an arid location.

We remember Bede’s occasional encounter on his way to the stream with our not so sane but adorable Edward of Oko who lived hard by and who once succeeded, with amazing marksmanship, in targeting Bede’s head with a pebble thrown from a distance, drawing blood.

After a few years, the Okigbos moved from Ekwulobia to another station and after elementary school, Christopher proceeded to Government College Umuahia to which Bede had preceded him. I went up to King’s, Lagos. We both played first eleven cricket for our schools although we rather looked down generally on the quality of cricket at Umuahia, notwithstanding such flashes in the pan as Namse Eno, Christian Momah, Kesley Harrison, Christopher Okigbo, Wilfred Chukwudebelu and a few others.

I heard a lot about Christopher from my younger brother, Laz who was at Umuahia but did not get to see him much until a group of about six Umuahia boys came to Lagos after the Cambridge School Certificate Examinations to attend the Federal Government Schoolarship interview. They were quartered in my dormitory at King’s and as the Prefect in charge I had the duty of looking after them for the duration of their stay. Christopher was easily the most fascinating of my guests. He was warm and very pleasant. He moved around King’s as if he had been there for five years, made friends with many students and generally exuded a level of charm and self-confidence which we had not thought possible from a student brought up in a rural setting such as Umudike-Umuahia!

In time, Christopher moved up to Ibadan to read Classics. Coming from Umuahia, we considered this either the biggest joke or the biggest wonder of the 20th century. It was all right for students from Mission schools or King’s College, who were well grounded in Latin to read Classics at university – Dickson Igwe, J.T.F. Iyalla, Bola Ige or my own classmate, Kalada Hart (later a Rhodes Scholar at Cambridge). But for somebody from Umuahia to attempt in those days to read Classics, or even Law, was an entirely new development. But Christopher Okigbo did it in grand style. I understand that in the three months between leaving secondary school and entering university, he had gone through Books I, II, and III of Latin for Today and that by the time the university resumed he was almost as ready as any of his other colleagues in the Classics Department to tackle university work.

At Ibadan, Okigbo was among the “jet set” undergraduates which included students like Leslie Harriman, Ignatius Atigbi, Eugene Odunjo and others. He was still at Ibadan when I left for the United States via England, to study Architecture and Town Planning on a Fulbright scholarship at the University of Washington. But as “age-grade mates”, it was not too remarkable a coincidence that we obtained our London University degrees in the same month; he in Classics from Ibadan, in special relationship with the University of London, and I in History, Philosophy and Constitutional Law, by external registration.

By the time I returned to Nigeria in 1957 to start my first job as Construction and Maintenance Coordinator of Standard Oil, and linked up again with Christopher Okigbo the following year, he had already disposed of his first two jobs and was about to start on the third. But his life had a restlessness and rolling-stone-ness that gathered a lot of moss. My job took me all over Nigeria by road and by air, developing storage depots, housing and retail outlets for Standard Oil Company, then operating in Nigeria as Esso West Africa. On my way up and down from the North, I used to stop by at Fiditi where Christopher was teaching at the Grammar School and invariably, on each occasion had my car loaded with Oranges, Pine-apple and other fruit. Earlier on, on one of my trips up North, I had gone to the Queen Elizabeth School at Ilorin to visit Miss Kathleen Player, the Principal of the school, who was my English tutor at King’s about a decade earlier. She then introduced me to Miss Sefi Attah, one of the members of her staff, a charming young lady of whom she was obviously very proud. I was certainly very favourably impressed and was not surprised to learn shortly after that “Christopher had taken the plunge.”

My work with Esso did not last very long. I settled into private practice in Lagos. A few years after, Christopher returned to Ibadan with the Cambridge University Press. We met from time to time whenever he visited Lagos or whenever I visited my branch office in Ibadan, or the University to supervise our projects there. He was delighted and proud that we were given the opportunity of being the first Nigerian firm of architects to work at the University of Ibadan, and that by all account we were acquitting ourselves creditably. Such was his sense of patriotism.

How were we both affected by the events of 1966-67? First, we both returned to the East, almost an inevitability in the circumstances of those traumatic times. Secondly, we both felt that we needed to do something, to make a contribution. Thirdly, we both felt that a position in the Army would provide a viable opportunity for this contribution. This was before the actual break out of the civil war. Christopher opted for combat; I sought a position in an Engineering Corps which I expected to be formed shortly. I approached Mr. R.C. Onyejepu, the Permanent Secretary, who was my former Biology teacher at King’s. He arranged for me to meet a Brigadier Imo at his office in the House of Assembly here in Enugu. Regretably or fortuitously, the Brigadier who was at the time engaged in non-soldierly diversions in which he was obviously more interested, did not have the patience to discuss with me but sent me to Col. Patrick Anwuna at the Abakpa Barracks. Col. Anwuna who was my younger brother’s classmate at Umuahia, was screening young teenagers for recruitment into the Army and was putting them through various endurance, physical, obstacle and gymnastic tests. He took a break to see me and after hearing me out, explained that I was in the wrong place; that Brigadier Imo obviously had not understood my proposal for involvement in an Army Engineering Corps, and that he would refer the matter back to the Brigadier. Nothing came of this exercise but I ended up serving as Head of Planning of the Biafran National Airports Board. At the end of the war there were two functioning airports (Uli and Uga), one nearing completion, (Ntigha-Ngwa), one under construction (Mbaise) and two (including one behind “enemy” lines) at various stages of planning and design (Arochukwu and Umuleri). I survived the war; Christopher died in combat. I shall come to this subject later.

Art, Form  and Vision

But why are we celebrating Christopher Okigbo today? We have perhaps as many reasons for celebrating him as we might have for others whom we do not celebrate. But put simply, we celebrate him because of his poetry; because of his creativity. I have read Labyrinths. There is some of Okigbo’s poetry that I understand at first reading and some I do not understand at all; some that I did not understand at first reading but which made some sense later; and some that appear to make different senses at different readings. But whatever be the case, be the lines clear or obscure, they make enjoyable and inspiring reading – especially aloud. Which brings me to a consideration of the purpose of art, its form, and its vision.

We have already had two very rich lectures this morning by two distinguished professors or English and I am certainly not qualified to add to their contribution. But it appears to me that there is a parallel between Okigbo’s poetry as art and developments in Music, Painting, Sculpture, Architecture and so on. Each discipline begins with a mastery of the rudiments; this is a sine qua non. But mastery of the rudiments, without more, cannot elevate to the level of genius; it is not sufficient. The progression in art forms from the rudiments to the work of genius should constitute a continuum. The progression from a church hymn to a Beethoven symphony; from a portrait through a landscape via a Picasso to a Pollock abstract painting; from a statue to a piece of abstract sculpture; from a school assembly hall to a Sydney Opera House; from a simple sonnet to a Christopher Okigbo – these form one continuum and each artist evolves to a point of departure dictated by his own ability or limitation. So it does not matter to me too much if I do not fully understand some of Okigbo’s poetry, as I do not fully understand some Pollock paintings, provided each reading or viewing generates new perspectives, new forms, new ideas, a new inspiration, a new vision.

WHY DID CHRISTOPHER OKIGBO DIE?

Was it right for Christopher Okigbo to have joined the Biafran Army and to have engaged in combat? The answer to this question must lie in the answer to the question: what should have been the appropriate reaction or response of an Igbo young man to the events of 1966 culminating in the wanton massacre of Igbos in various parts of their own country? Or to take the question away from the specific, what should be the appropriate response or reaction of any citizen when manifest evil is being perpetrated; when injustice, oppression and dehumanization abound? Some close their eyes to the evil around them and go about their own business, especially if the business is economically rewarding even if morally and spiritually damnifying. Others take up the gauntlet and fight the evil with all the resources at their command.

So long as we realize that all it takes for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing, it becomes a decision which each human being must take for himself. Christopher Okigbo made his own decision and fell in combat. He made a supreme sacrifice; he paid the price.

If Nigerians can live in freedom and be governed with their consent in equity, equality, fairness and justice, then Christopher Okigbo’s supreme sacrifice would not have been in vain.

Brief Opening Remarks made by Alex I. Ekwueme (former Vice President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria), Chairman of the Exhibition forming part of “Songs for Idoto,” A Celebration of Christopher Okigbo, held at National Museum, Enugu, on Saturday, November 2, 1996