Thus far, The CIHA Blog has posted a number of reflections on last October’s Biafra workshop, including Anthonia Kalu on our common humanity, Philip C. Aka on humanitarian integrity, and Helen Chukwuma on arms and welfare humanitarianism. Next in our series comes from Abene Kyere, one of the Blog’s editorial assistants.
by Abena Kyere
It is amazing how a Buchi Emechata book, Destination Biafra, and a workshop can keep you awake and pondering. A workshop keeps you awake when you are one of the organizers and wondering how tomorrow, the first day of the workshop, will turn out. Luckily for us (the Ghana team) the workshop on Rethinking the Origins of Humanitarian Action in Africa turned out well and very fulfilling, thanks to the enthusiasm of all participants and modern technology!
But what about Buchi? What with Destination Biafra? Why should it keep one awake? I have always thought the name of Biafra to be sweet, as we say in Ghana when something sounds really good. B-I-A-F-R-A! I never really paid attention to what it stood for or represented until the Critical Investigations into Humanitarianism in Africa conference. A bit of background information here should make things simpler. As graduate students and Luce Editorial Assistants for the Blog, we were privileged to have been given a whole panel where we could pick one book by an African writer on Biafra and share with the others. My first impulse was to go in for Buchi, not because it is an easy read, but because the author is a favourite and I had not had the opportunity to read this work yet. Destination Biafra’s vivid description of the war, people’s lives and experiences couched in a fictitious mode was indeed an eye opener. For the first time, I came face to face with the stark realization that no one is ever insulated. Biafra taught me three important lessons worth sharing.
First, the most glaring lesson anybody would walk away with after reading Destination Biafra is the fact that no one is truly shielded when it comes to war. There is a form of complacency that one develops once they realize that they are not in the same category as ‘those people’. There is a smugness that comes with feeling better because of your ethnic group, academic credentials, family background, financial status and other such ephemeral stations. A complacency that leads to a false sense of security which then breeds inconsideration for others. But the sad realization, and one that I have humbly learnt, is that it is these very categories we ascribe to ourselves, those very spaces we occupy with such glee that will put our heads on Salome’s silver platter.
Second, a frightening but important lesson for me was the statement made by Dr. Simanga Raymond Kumalo: ‘What these presentations have taught us today is the fact that we don’t need outsiders; we are capable of hurting each other, of being wicked towards one another.’ The most trusted and friendliest neighbor could butcher me tomorrow because there was a war last night and I happen to be on the wrong side of the divide. But the most terrifying of all is the fact that I could be the one doing the butchering tomorrow. It is this that sends chills down my spine, that makes me pray: May Biafra never happen again. It is a lesson that makes me wish my Ghana well.
But the above two lessons also led me to a third realization—not as frightening as the first two. I love Ghana after all, with a love I have never been conscious of. Actually I suppose I have, but whenever I think about my country, it had conjures up images of corruption, filth and lack of infrastructure. But Biafra taught me that I have not been charitable to my Ghana after all. But then again, do we ever realize what we possess until we’ve lost it? Perhaps in my fear of losing everything I call home, I had for the first time called and owned Ghana; I had described Ghana as MY GHANA. In the months leading to general elections, and I dare say this year will not be different, people have sworn fire and brimstone will rain if they do not win, damn the consequences. I am not sure I have gone as far as to engage in such passionate assertions, but I do remember my apathy. So let Ghana burn, it is them who will die! Whatever made me think like this? It was because it was never MY GHANA.
But now it is. This is what Ghana’s conference on Biafra and the Nigerian Civil War gave me!
Abena Kyere is a PhD student at the University of Ghana–Legon.