By HENRY AKUBUIRO
The aftermath of any war invites contrary prospects. Triumphant generals speak of their conquest in multiple decibels. Defeated commanders tell the tale of gallantry at warfronts and paints pictures of overwhelming odds. Creative writers give us bizarre depictions, emotional distraught and rare acts of perseverance by characters.
Diliorah Chukwurah neither wielded the club nor pulled the trigger at any foe during the Nigeria civil war. As a 9-year old boy, before hostilities began, his siblings, his parents and himself were living happily in Jos, in the Northern Region. As bloodletting became the order of the day, they fled to the Eastern Region.
The non-fiction, The Last Train to Biafra: Memoirs of a Biafran Child...(Constellation Book, Ibadan), just released, is his recollection of the infamous endgame, nay how he and fellow Biafrans became a mockery of humanity while the 3-year war lasted. "I must have written the first few chapters of the book fifteen to twenty years ago. I was involved in other time-demanding activities, and couldn't complete it as early as anticipated," he chats with Arts and Heritage from his UK base.
You can hardly find any Nigerian civil war chronicler who was just a child when the war started. Most of them were already adults during the war. Having to rely on the hazy memory of a 10-12 year old to write this book is quite astounding. But, was he conscious of writing this book someday, as a child, while the war was going on?
He responds, "I came to the decision to write the book about two decades after the war. I was privileged to have witnessed or be part of some mind gripping experiences that one could not easily forget, such as surviving a rocket explosion which claimed the life of my little sister and almost killed my father; experiencing life in the refugee camps; walking across some notable battle fields; and not knowing the where about of my parents for 4-5 months. There were countless such remarkable experiences in my life in Biafra." He admits his mother filled some gaps in the stories.
The title of this book was inspired by an unforgettable incident in Jos. "My parents boarded the last train that departed Jos rail station for the Eastern Region," he recalls. "They were very lucky to have caught that train. It was the last train to enter the Eastern Region before the outbreak of the war. Considering that the departure of that train was preceded by almost a week of anti-Igbo pogrom in Jos, it was a very symbolic train journey for me, my parents and other people who were affected by the events of that period in the North," he adds.
More than four decades after the war ended, many Nigerian authors are still publishing civil war stories. There are, however, some Nigerian who think they could be fanning embers of hatred. Achebe, for one, was accused of such in There was a Country by his critics.
He thinks differently: "A memoir such as this contributes to our history. We are saddled with the history of the pogrom and civil war, and cannot run aware from them; rather we should learn from them. We ignore the lessons of historyat our peril." Last train to Biafra, he hints, was being edited by the time Achebe's There was a Country was published. "The two books dwell on different aspects of the Biafra," he explains.
From the narrative, he and his family had a swell time before the Araba killings began in the north. Nigerian leaders then, he said, could have done more to protect the lives of ordinary Igbo citizens living amongst fellow Nigerians, especially in the north. "It was their lack of sensitivity to the plight of this group of people that drove them to agitate for secession and to support the war effort.
"I witnessed so much suffering in Biafra, especially at the last refugee camp where I spent about five months. I never came across anyone who regretted that Biafra took up arms to resist Nigeria. That ordinary Biafran people could cling so tenaciously to their belief that they were fighting a just cause especially at that particular refugee camp where human life was degraded beyond description was very inspiring. I am proud to have been part of that experience; and to have witnessed such resilience of the human spirit."
The Last Train to Biafra pays witness to harrowing sufferings of Igbos on the way from Jos back to the east. Which of the experiences was quite unforgettable to him? He replies: "The scene at Otukpo rail station, where some wounded passengers had disembarked from earlier trains from different parts of the north to be treated at the local hospital.
"In Jos I had come across Igbos who fled from other northern towns and cities and had lost their relations in the killings and all their possessions. It was at Otukpo, however, that I first had an idea of the scale of casualties from the severity of the injuries on the Igbo people at the rail station, including those who boarded the train in which we travelled."
Another touching story in the book is his trials and tribulations at refugee camps and having had to move from place to place within the Biafran territory. How traumatic was the experience, and how has he managed the trauma ever since?
"I am not sure what the answer is and I am not sure that I have been able to manage the trauma. I still weep over Clementina, my little sister, who was killed by a rocket in Port Harcourt. Her memory remains vivid, perhaps because we couldn't bury her and left her body to live vultures that were waiting for us to leave the scene of her death. We had to leave as our lives were also in danger. I still weep when I recall others experiences of the war, and that has made writing about the war sometimes very difficult," he rues.
The author's father was adamant to leave Jos at the outset of the civil war and later disappeared with your mum sometime during the war, leaving him to his fate. "I had to fend for myself and for my three younger siblings. Looking back, I managed very well. I am optimistic and daring; and I have an acute sense of what is just or unjust. I may have acquired these attributes from my experiences in the war," he says on a positive note.
A certain subconscious nostalgia about Biafra could be deduced from the author's tone. What is it about Biafra that he still holds most dear to his heart? He says, "An elaborate glowing image of Biafra was painted in my mind as a child by the adults around me. It was the image of a self-reliant nation that had a lot in common with a modern industrialised western nation. Superimpose Biafra's technological endeavours on that image and you could see why I and many others were so optimistic about Biafra. I believe we saw ourselves at the verge of something magnificent."
A surprising twist to the tale was when, after the civil war, the author and his parents returned to Jos. "My father, in his trade, had a good clientele base, and his friends in Jos were happy to see him after the war. The indigenes of Jos were relatively accommodating to the Igbos," he reveals.
45 years after the end of the war, echoes of marginalization still rend the air in Igbo land. For the author, there has been some progress since the end of the military regime starting from Obasanjo's second term as the president. "That the military ruled the country for so long was highly detrimental to Igbo progress and reintegration," he says, adding, "No group of people in Nigeria should be made to play second fiddle to others," he says.
Though the suffering of the Biafran people drew the attention of the world to Biafra, "one rarely finds a practical account of that aspect of the Biafran struggle in books that have so far been written," says the author. Some years ago, at a hospital in England, a doctor took a look at a malnourished child and said that the child looked like a Biafran child.
"The statement was made in my presence, and I felt very touched that the world hasn't forgotten Biafra. Some of our fellow countrymen have ridiculously tried to trivialise the suffering in Biafra. It is my hope that the account rendered in this book, devoid of politics, will inform them otherwise. Biafra is, unavoidably, part of our history, and we have to embrace it. I also wanted to share some stories of triumphs and the tenacity of the human spirit that kept Biafra alive for 30 months," Chukwurah says.
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