Throughout much of 1965, tension between the Igbo, a major tribe, and the rest of Nigeria, primarily the Hausa tribe, reached a boiling point. ‘Domination by other tribes’, a historically deadly accusation, was the way other Nigerians demonized the way the Igbo went about their daily business of buying and selling.
Punishment follows each accusation. It was only a matter of time before the other tribes struck a blow at the overconfident Igbo.
The opportunity to crush the Igbo came sooner than many had predicted when, in the military coup on January 15, 1966, an independent-thinking army officer of Igbo descent, named Major Chukwuma Nzeogwu, shot and killed the prime minister. from the north, Sarduana de Sokoto. –Sir Ahmadu Bello. At the same time, four other coup plotters killed Tafawa Balewa, the Prime Minister of Nigeria, and some other political leaders, mostly from the Hausa ethnic group.
Attempts at national reconciliation and tribal appeasement failed. Six months later, on July 29, 1966, officers of the Northern Nigerian Army launched a retaliatory coup during which they killed Aguyi Ironsi, the Nigerian head of state, an Igbo man who had succeeded Tafawa Balewa. Dozens of Igbo military officers were also hunted down and killed.
The mob then expanded, became more bloodthirsty, and began methodically killing all the Igbo among them: men, women, children, and babies. A large exodus began as the Igbo from northern Nigeria rushed back to their eastern Nigerian home for safety.
Many Igbo were ambushed and killed while trying to escape. Severed heads rolled through the streets of Kaduna. Severed arms and legs alphabetize the bushes. Babies taken from their mothers’ wombs were said to have their brains cracked with stones. Igbo hunting spread to Jos, Sokoto, Kano, Katsina and others. The impersonators would go after the Igbo who lived in Lagos and other parts of western Nigeria. An estimated 30,000 or more Igbos died.
With two heads of state assassinated in six months and 30,000 Igbos killed, an inferno of fire swept through many cities across the country.
Army officers fought among themselves over who among them would succeed Aguyi Ironsi as the next head of state. Wielding tremendous intimidation tools and Britain’s political mentorship, northern Nigeria insisted on Lieutenant Colonel Yakubu Gowon, a choice that drew the ire of other tribes and many high-ranking army officers, especially the governor of the eastern region, Lt. Col. Chukwuemka Ojukwu. He would become Gowon’s archenemy in the rapidly approaching civil war.
If Nigeria did not love the Igbo and could not guarantee their safety, they would stay in their enclave in eastern Nigeria to govern themselves, protect themselves and feed themselves. The Igbo returned home in droves, from the north and west to eastern Nigeria, grieving but not broken, a proud and unstoppable race.
Austine, SO Okwu, had only been a few weeks into his last assignment as a counselor at the Nigerian embassy in Washington, DC when Aguyi Ironsi was assassinated and thousands of Igbos murdered in northern Nigeria.
It did not take long for the Federal Republic of Nigeria to imagine Igbo diplomats abroad sympathetic to the problems of their relatives at home. Mistrust pushed them to take immediate action.
Secret orders from Lagos quickly reached Washington, DC, instructing Ambassador Martin to cut anyone of Igbo descent from embassy business without delay. Don’t worry about getting paid without working, the memo said. Tie them down, if necessary, with trivial tasks like preparing okra soup, eguisi soup, or mashed cassava.
Overnight, the embassy’s friends became enemies. Foreign Service personnel, previously indispensable, suddenly became useless.
Yesterday, Austine, SO was the quintessential and outspoken diplomat who stood up for the pride and interests of Nigerians. As of January 1967 he became an outcast. His work desk was relocated to the third floor, hidden among giant empty wooden cabinets where he could never hear office conversations or read the body language of his colleagues.
Lately, and now more frequently since he was relocated to the third floor, streams of reflections followed him to bed.
‘This’, he used to tell himself, ‘is a country I fought so hard for and served without reservation.’
Then he would think of how in 1961, as Nigerian Foreign Ministry Chief in Ghana, he had challenged Prince Philip for casting racial discord in Nigeria in a mocking light. “If the English, the Welsh and the Scots can exist under British rule despite several wars,” Austine told Prince Philip, “Nigeria, by borrowing from you, can learn to coexist.”
How wrong he was, he was sorry. Not even the village oracle who, before Austine was born, had accurately predicted his career path could have foreseen the turn of events.
One Sunday night in May 1967, Austine fell asleep remembering how, again in 1961, he had intervened to save Nigeria part of the cost of building an oil refinery at Alesa elema, near Port Harcourt.
Shortly after three, a phone rang, waking him up. Beneath the blanket, Austine reached out a hand, fumbled, and picked up the receiver.
“Austine,” the caller said, his voice distant but clear, as always on morning calls.
Godwin! Is everything okay with you, dear?
‘Yes, listen: His Excellency Governor Chukwuemeka Ojukwu wants to speak to you, at your home in Enugu. Can you get on the plane tomorrow morning?
Austine flung the blanket aside with her right hand and sat on the edge of the bed, the receiver over her left ear.
End
