Notable
international Nigeria writer Chimamanda Adichie expressed her view on the Oba’s
comment.
A few days
ago, the Oba of Lagos threatened Igbo leaders. If they did not vote for his
governorship candidate in Lagos, he said, they would be thrown into the lagoon.
His entire speech was a flagrant performance of disregard. His words said, in
effect: I think so little of you that I don’t have to cajole you but will just
threaten you and, by the way, your safety in Lagos is not assured, it is
negotiable.
There have
been condemnations of the Oba’s words. Sadly, many of the condemnations from
non-Igbo people have come with the ugly impatience of expressions like ‘move
on,’ and ‘don’t be over-emotional’ and
‘calm down.’ These take away the power, even the sincerity, of the
condemnations. It is highhanded and offensive to tell an aggrieved person how
to feel, or how quickly to forgive, just as an apology becomes a non-apology
when it comes with ‘now get over it.’
Other
condemnations of the Oba’s words have been couched in dismissive or diminishing
language such as ‘The Oba can’t really do anything, he isn’t actually going to
kill anyone. He was joking. He was just being a loudmouth.’
Or – the
basest yet – ‘we are all prejudiced.’ It is dishonest to respond to a specific
act of prejudice by ignoring that act and instead stressing the generic and the
general. It is similar to responding to
a specific crime by saying ‘we are all capable of crime.’ Indeed we are. But
responses such as these are diversionary tactics. They dismiss the specific
act, diminish its importance, and ultimately aim at silencing the legitimate
fears of people.
We are indeed
all prejudiced, but that is not an appropriate response to an issue this
serious. The Oba is not an ordinary citizen. He is a traditional ruler in a
part of a country where traditional rulers command considerable influence – the
reluctance on the part of many to directly chastise the Oba speaks to his
power. The Oba’s words matter. He is not a singular voice; he represents
traditional authority. The Oba’s words matter because they are enough to incite
violence in a political setting already fraught with uncertainty. The Oba’s
words matter even more in the event that Ambode loses the governorship
election, because it would then be easy to scapegoat Igbo people and hold them
punishable.
Nigerians who
consider themselves enlightened might dismiss the Oba’s words as illogical. But
the scapegoating of groups – which has a long history all over the world – has
never been about logic. The Oba’s words matter because they bring worrying
echoes of the early 1960s in Nigeria, when Igbo people were scapegoated for
political reasons. Chinua Achebe, when he finally accepted that Lagos, the city
he called home, was unsafe for him because he was Igbo, saw crowds at the motor
park taunting Igbo people as they boarded buses: ‘Go, Igbo, go so that garri
will be cheaper in Lagos!’
Of course
Igbo people were not responsible for the cost of garri. But they were perceived
as people who were responsible for a coup and who were ‘taking over’ and who,
consequently, could be held responsible for everything bad.
Any group of
people would understandably be troubled by a threat such as the Oba’s, but the
Igbo, because of their history in Nigeria, have been particularly troubled. And
it is a recent history. There are people alive today who were publicly attacked
in cosmopolitan Lagos in the 1960s because they were Igbo. Even people who were
merely light-skinned were at risk of violence in Lagos markets, because to be
light-skinned was to be mistaken for Igbo.
Almost every
Nigerian ethnic group has a grouse of some sort with the Nigerian state. The
Nigerian state has, by turns, been violent, unfair, neglectful, of different
parts of the country. Almost every ethnic group has derogatory stereotypes
attached to it by other ethnic groups.
But it is
disingenuous to suggest that the experience of every ethnic group has been the
same. Anti-Igbo violence began under the British colonial government, with
complex roots and manifestations. But the end result is a certain psychic
difference in the relationship of Igbo people to the Nigerian state. To be Igbo
in Nigeria is constantly to be suspect; your national patriotism is never taken
as the norm, you are continually expected to prove it.
All groups
are conditioned by their specific histories. Perhaps another ethnic group would
have reacted with less concern to the Oba’s threat, because that ethnic group
would not be conditioned by a history of being targets of violence, as the Igbo
have been.
Many
responses to the Oba’s threat have mentioned the ‘welcoming’ nature of Lagos,
and have made comparisons between Lagos and southeastern towns like Onitsha. It
is valid to debate the ethnic diversity of different parts of Nigeria, to
compare, for example, Ibadan and Enugu, Ado-Ekiti and Aba, and to debate who
moves where, and who feels comfortable living where and why that is. But it is
odd to pretend that Lagos is like any other city in Nigeria. It is not. The
political history of Lagos and its development as the first national capital
set it apart. Lagos is Nigeria’s metropolis. There are ethnic Igbo people whose
entire lives have been spent in Lagos, who have little or no ties to the
southeast, who speak Yoruba better than Igbo. Should they, too, be reminded to
be ‘grateful’ each time an election draws near?
No
law-abiding Nigerian should be expected to show gratitude for living peacefully
in any part of Nigeria. Landlords in Lagos should not, as still happens too
often, be able to refuse to rent their property to Igbo people.
The Oba’s
words were disturbing, but its context is even more disturbing:
The anti-Igbo
rhetoric that has been part of the political discourse since the presidential
election results. Accusatory and
derogatory language – using words like ‘brainwashed,’ ‘tribalistic voting’ –
has been used to describe President Jonathan’s overwhelming win in the
southeast. All democracies have regions that vote in large numbers for one
side, and even though parts of Northern Nigeria showed voting patterns similar
to the Southeast, the opprobrium has been reserved for the Southeast.
But the rhetoric
is about more than mere voting. It is really about citizenship. To be so
entitled as to question the legitimacy of a people’s choice in a democratic
election is not only a sign of disrespect but is also a questioning of the full
citizenship of those people.
What does it
mean to be a Nigerian citizen?
When Igbo
people are urged to be ‘grateful’ for being in Lagos, do they somehow have less
of a right as citizens to live where they live? Every Nigerian should be able
to live in any part of Nigeria. The only expectation for a Nigerian citizen
living in any part of Nigeria is to be law-abiding. Not to be ‘grateful.’ Not
to be expected to pay back some sort of unspoken favour by toeing a particular
political line. Nigerian citizens can vote for whomever they choose, and should
never be expected to justify or apologize for their choice.
Only by
feeling a collective sense of ownership of Nigeria can we start to forge a
nation. A nation is an idea. Nigeria is still in progress. To make this a
nation, we must collectively agree on what citizenship means: all Nigerians
must matter equally.
By Chimamanda
Adichie
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