The civil war or Biafra War officially ended in 1970 after Chukwuemeka Ojukwu, leader of the rebellion, fled the country and his second in command Effiong surrendered to federal troops. However, 55 years after, certain ugly incidents are happening that constrain my people in North to ask awkward questions. Is the civil war still on albeit in low intensity manner?
My small village is tucked away in the mountainous section of the Nigeria – Cameroon border in Taraba State. Though almost untouched by happenings in Abuja, this tiny blob on the earth keeps producing university graduates unequalled by many like it or those much bigger in size and population. Over time, it produced several primary school headmasters, secondary school principals, medical doctors, career diplomats and top bureaucrats. However, in the early 2000s something happened that blighted the lives of many promising young men. An Igbo trader had arrived the village and set up a provisions store. Okafor (not his real name) sold things like salt, sugar, “pure” sachet water, mineral water but more important alcoholic beverages that came with different names like Sniper, Action Bitters and Ogogoro. Our young men abandoned the local brews and bottled beers they were used to and went after these later pungently strong “shots”. Often they drank these poisons “on empty stomach”.
The effect was near pandemic. Within a short time, many developed bloated stomachs and puffed-up cheeks that shone as though cleaned with Oliver oil. One by one, qthey began to die. Asked why his drinks were killing our youngsters like a plague, Okafor responded, “Your young men aren’t strong enough to take the drinks.” “Then why are you selling the drinks?” he was asked. His reply again was condescending: “They enjoy drinking them, that’s why.” One thing though we didn’t fail to notice: Okafor wasn’t drinking those potent drinks himself but only Coke and Fanta or Malta – all soft drinks. By 2016, the village had lost half a dozen headmasters to Okafor’s poisonous drinks. He was forced to close shop and soon he was on his way out of the village, never to return.
Almost at the same time, Okafor’s alcohol deaths were occurring in other villages where Igbo merchants had been accommodated. In Takum, the headquarters of the local government with the same name, the number of deaths doubled because there were more traders in death and the victim pop was larger. Several brilliant young men disappeared in the wide sweep of the alcohol pandemic. Initially, nobody imagined the deaths had been caused by thoughtlessly
uncontrolled intake of “hot drinks”. Not until a curious medical doctor decided to do a test of the blood of a sick young man who presented with symptoms similar to those of the people who had died. The result, not surprisingly, was liver inflammation. What caused it? Frequent intake of “hot drinks” in large quantity over a long period. The local government council terminated the licences of Igbo traders and sealed their shops. Then followed an exodus of the merchants of death.
Neighbouring Benue State was next to ‘catch’ the contagion, followed by the Plateau. In both states, the rising death statistics from Ogogoro consumption forced the government to ban the deadly beverages and prosecute those that traded in them. But the ban only forced them underground. The deaths, though reduced, went on. In my 20 plus years of working as a journalist in Kaduna I saw many youngsters perish in the flood of “hot drinks”. A colleague of my cousin’s at defunct Nigeria Airways was an Ogogoruwa regular. Then I stopped seeing him with my cousin at their joint for several months. When I asked, my cousin said he had taken ill. His stomach and limbs were swollen. Few days later I received the news of his death. I saw another young man one day at an Ogogoro joint. His cheeks were full and skin was like ashen white granite. But that skin colour was deceptive; it turned out be the setting in of the pallor of death. The young man died few days after, I was told.
One cool night, I was sitting outside with some friends. The discussion was lively but I noticed the pal seated close to me was unusually silent, double bent with hands folded across his chest. I asked him what the matter was. “Hmm, I have been thinking”, he answered. “What about?” He replied, “These young men that have been dying just like that. Don’t you see something strange happening? They are dying from liver sclerosis caused by Ogogoro supplied by Igbo traders who themselves don’t drink it. And all these young men dying are northerners? Don’t you see the connection? The civil war isn’t over. It is still on though in low intensity.” I told my friend that couldn’t be. The others agreed with me. I said the war had been over for over 50 years and that the man who led the secession eventually returned from self exile and ran to be senator of the Federal Republic though he lost. Several Ibos had become senate president and Nigeria’s vice president. The biggest happened in 2023 when an Igbo man came close to being elected president. All that meant Ibos were not contemplating secession again. “Yet I can’t take all these deaths to be isolated coincidences. Something isn’t right”, our friend said. “Wait for the day Nigerians make the mistake of ‘electing’ an Igbo man or woman president. Then we’ll know whether or not Biafra is dead for good. Meanwhile how do we get our young men, now joined by girls, to avoid these deadly drinks?” “No easy answer,” we chorused. At that we departed but the questions haven’t “departed” too.
