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Biafra was not death and sorrow all the time. In the mist of all the uncertainties, there was ‘normal’ life going on. After my Red Cross assignment at Iyienu hospital Ogidi, I came back to Achi for a one-week break before undertaking my second assignment, this time I was posted to Nzam.
Nzam is a unique Igbo town. Unique is so many ways. For instance they are a bilingual people. I do not know about these days, but during the hostilities when I was there I discovered that every Nzam person apart from speaking Igbo as their mother tongue, also spoke Igala, the language of the ethnic Igalas bordering Igboland in the North. This may have to do with the movement and settlement of people from that area hundreds of years ago, as it is believed that some other Igbo communities along the Niger, in Asaba and Onitsha, may have migrated from Igala.
In the past Niger River was the main trading route between communities along its coast, it also facilitated migration and settlement. It may not be impossible therefore that the Nzam people or a part of them migrated from Igala. But the more common explanation by the people of Nzam regarding their bilingualism was that Nzam mastered Igala language as a trade strategy. Nzam was an important trade post during the boom days of the Niger River trade route. Being located upper north, it was one of the first large Igbo communities the Igala traders arrive in. Through such regular contacts, they learnt their language. When other Igbo traders come in from the hinterland, the Nzam trader becomes the go between, the middlemen. Because of his mastery of both languages the Nzam people were able to make good bargains to their advantage.
Nzam is also rich agriculturally. They have a very rich soil that is watered and at the same time fertilized by the yearly flooding ‘Iji’ of the river Niger. Their yams are one of the earliest to be harvested. When I was there it was quite interesting to see partially submerged yam farms. It was also interesting to watch farmers harvest their yams. Anyone who knows about yam farming must agree that it is a tough job, and this includes the harvesting process. It takes a careful digging to successfully get a yam tuber safely dug up. But for the Nzam yam farmer, they practically pull large yam tubers off the soil with ease, sometimes using a canoe, as the farms are often partially submerged.
The uniqueness of Nzam and its environ will be incomplete without mentioning mosquitoes and sand flies. These two were my nightmare apart from the raging war. By daytime the sand flies take over. These tiny, and almost invisible flies can really be big menace. Their stinging multiple bites sends irritating sensation all over your body, and they attack in droves making you slap yourself all over. But wait until the night comes, when their big brother, the mosquito takes over. The Nzam mosquito is a rare breed. I guess it has a tiny sword for proboscis, if not how came it could pierce through army fatigue uniform to reach the skin. Well, it is often said that you can never have it all, this must be the reason Nzam is rich agriculturally.
Another aspect of Nzam and the one I enjoyed most in those days was the river Niger and the abundant fishes therein. Having grown up in dry hilly hinterland of Enugu, the rivers I knew were spring waters, shallow streams, brooks, and water ponds. To suddenly be in a place almost surrounded by a massive body of water was extremely exciting. Luckily near my boarding school before the war in Umunze, there was this stream called ‘Unyo’. We were mandated to fetch water from the stream every morning, ahh! How I hated being woken up as early as 6am by hostile sound of the bell and driven off my bed half awake. The awful sound of many swinging metal buckets could be heard as the boys rush to the stream. Anyway I learnt to swim, thanks to ‘Unyo’. I love swimming and I swam everyday throughout my stay in Nzam, but so does everyone I guess, for I cannot imagine how someone can stay in that area without dipping oneself into River Niger.
Yes the fishes, how can I forget the delicious fresh water fishes from the river. We ate fish on a daily bases, both fresh and dried ones. In Nzam those days, soups are made with so much fish in it that you hardly see the rue. For each bolus of pounded yam, a magnanimous piece of fish to go down with. Such was the case in Nzam. And the war raged on.
Like I mentioned earlier, the yearly flooding of the River Niger enriches the lands along the banks of Anambara River, all the way down to its confluence where it joined the River Niger. All the towns along the river, towns like Otu Ukpo, Orometiti, Mmiatta, Ode. Odekpe, Nzam and others enjoy a yearly soil enrichment which guaranteed good farm harvest, and a constant supply of fresh fish.
I was once privileged to observe a fish harvest. Before this time I never heard anything about fish
farming, and I am not sure it has been introduced anywhere in the then Eastern Nigeria
before the civil war. Even if it had been, it was still uncommon. But the people of Nzam and its
surrounding did not need anyone to teach them fish farming, for their forefathers have been practicing that from day one and albeit in the most natural way. Traditional fish farming in Nzam and its surrounding goes like this; Keeping in mind that the ‘Iji’, the yearly flooding, takes place during the rainy season, they have studied its pattern, they know the right spots to dig a trough to hold up a reasonable amount of water. The Iji when it comes, brings in a large variety of fishes that get trapped in the trough after it had receded. Tree branches and leaves are then cut and dumped in the through now turned pond, to make it as inhabitable as possible for the fishes. On a daily bases remains of food and other biological refuse are dumped in the pond, for instance cassava and yam peelings. These become a source of food for the fishes. Thus the fishes are fed fat before they are harvested. The harvesting takes place during the later part of dry season, say around mid January. It was one of such harvesting I witnessed during the civil war in a village in Nzam. This was a pond owned by a family I got to know at that time. They invited me to join in the fish harvest; they also invited other friends as it is customary in Igboland. By the time I arrived at the pond, young men in two canoes were already clearing the pond by removing the tree branches, trunks, and other foliage put in there to provide shelter for the fishes. Soon after, the actual harvest started. The harvest team armed with a long fishing net swept the entire pond from end to end, and from the final outlet, they scooped out the largest quantity of fish I saw for the first time in my life. That was extremely exciting for me being a hinterland person. The variety of fishes from that pond, was another thing that struck me apart from the quantity, it was simply amazing.
After pulling the fishes out, I was told that every one is now free to try their luck if they can find some take-home fishes from the pond. One of the sons of the owner of the pond opted to fish on my behalf, and you cannot imagine what sizes and quantity of fish I went back to the camp with that day. At the time the men were busy getting the fishes, by the right end of the pond the women were busy setting up a makeshift kitchen and a massive drying ramp, and when the fishes were all brought out of the water, the fire of the drying ramp was ready, and the fishes were carried by the women and set on a long row of dying ramp under the heat of the burning coke. Everywhere smelt fish. The evening came to an end after a delicious feast of pounded yam and fish studded yummy Nsala soup, washed down with some of the best ‘Ayigo’ – raffia palm-wine. I came home to the camp that day feeling real good, and I slept so deep that I for once didn’t bother about the sword mouthed mosquitoes of Nzam. And still the war ragged on.
The next day was a Sunday, you know the saying ‘Lazy like a Sunday morning’ or was it a song title? Well, that was how I felt, and did I sleep long and tight? Then suddenly there was some commotion outside, and one thing you learn in a war situation is not to take anything for granted. Whenever you look outside and many people are moving, looking, acting, or talking in a particular manner you have to quickly get out to know what is amiss. It could be an air raid for instance. And this what is called being vigilant. Well, I quickly went out to find out what was going on, and what I found was one big mystery. Some people were digging a toilet pit behind the building, in the process they dug up a life fish from about six feet under the earth. How could that be possible? I was saying something like, no way, this must be a joke. A crowed gathered to observe this miracle. The poor fish was breathing slowly with the eyes still closed. In all the excitement, I suddenly observed that the Nzam indigenes in the crowd were simply having a big laugh out of the whole thing. One of them observed that this is a common thing. It was from him I learnt that this particular specie of mudskipper could survive extreme draught for years, and under the most difficult condition. It goes into an inactive mode until the condition becomes conducive. Years later after the war ended I was reminiscing on my wartime experiences, and the thoughts about this fish crossed my mind. And I found myself saying ‘this is what survival is all about, and Biafra was all about survival, a war of survival of a people, the Igbo people. Then I said to myself, ‘Biafra was that fish, and the fish Biafra, and I further mused ‘A Fish Called Biafra.
Ikechukwu Ude-Chime
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Posted by Robot| 31.05.2008 20:28