The Forest Dames: An Account of the Nigeria-Biafra War

By Ada Okere Agbasimalo Ph.D

Naturally talented Ada Okere Agbasimalo remains richly endowed with that incredibly fertile imagination that drives her passion to connect with her immediate environment, and weave interestingly curious scenes, into big stories. Her deep knowledge of the themes of her works, pairs up with her rare gift in creative writing, to keep her readers spellbound; as she crafts suspense upon suspense, with such masterly control that you CANNOT put down her books. In this third book of hers, where she narrates her true life experience as a teenage girl caught up in the cross fire of war, she practically brings you, quite in subdued trepidation, face to face with the situation of reality.

The author holds a doctorate degree in International Relations and had been an employee, in Nigeria, of the Johns Hopkins University/Center for Communication Programs (JHU/CCP) and COMPASS; both USAID sponsored. She also had a stint with Society for Family Health (SFH).

Married with four children and two grandchildren, she is widely travelled and widely read. She is also the author of "Bow You Must" and Waves of Destiny.

"The Forest Dames is a pulsating story about the devastating effects of war, in which Ada Okere Agbasimalo dwells on the sordid consequences of civil war on humanity, and the tortuous effort to achieve normalcy. It features Deze, a young girl with a keen mind, who lived with her parents in a typical African setting, and felt the pain of war. As an adult, the memories remain intact, kind of haunting her.
The Forest Dames is a strident voice detailing and condemning potential malignant actions that continue to impede the development of African nations and indeed, parts of the developing world. These include wars, culture-based biases, illogical and deadly tribal hatred, wanton destruction of life and property, etc.
African and world leaders, politicians, historians, students and the general public should be awakened by this book. It is a must read."
Samuel Ozurumba Ejiogu Esq.

The Forest Dames is:
Designed to get war agitators to have a rethink.
A vivid and authentic literature for post war citizens anywhere in the world, and anybody for that matter.
A celebration of femininity. A motivation on how to move on.
A potpourri of cruelty, resilience, ingenuity, industry, commitment, hopes and aspirations.
A potent material for 'War and Gender' scholars.

"The girls watched the women melt into the thick forest, through the same emergency pathway that had led them in. This time, there was no sound of water; there were no whispers, only footsteps on the path."

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jul 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781524677145

Ada Okere Agbasimalo Ph.D

AdaOkere Agbasimalo has a first degree in French from the University of Nigeria, Nsukka and a Ph.D in International Relations from the same university. Her Master's degree from the university of Lagos was also on International Relations. She worked as a program officer for the John Hopkins University/Center for Communication programs (JHU/CCP) under the sponsorship of USAID; and Society for Family Health (SFH), as Gender Mainstreaming Specialist and Senior Advocacy Documentation Manager. She is also the author of: Bow You Must and Waves of Destiny The author is a recipient of • Award of Extraordinary Woman (Unsung) by Genevieve Magazine • Merit award for Excellence and Integrity by Nigeria Association of Women Journalists (NAWOJ) Enugu Chapter • UN Eminent Peace Ambassador Award • The Inspiration Women of Courage Award by Inspiration International

Book preview

© 2017 ADA OKERE AGBASIMALO Ph.D. All rights reserved.

First published by AuthorHouse in 2012

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse  07/21/2017

ISBN: 978-1-5246-7715-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-7716-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5246-7714-5 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Other books by the author:

Bow You Must

Waves of Destiny

What They Say!

I believe that this story, which in actual fact is a war-time narrative, will be an instant hit.

— Chibuzo Benjamin Asomugha

Nigerian Writer

I have read several accounts of that war but this one just brought me home. ‘The Forest Dames!’ No wonder I couldn’t drop it. It is a must read!

— Dr. Tim Menakaya (OFR) - Ide Umunya

Former Minister of Health.

A well articulated account of the Nigerian civil war as experienced by a Nigerian teenage girl caught up between friends and foes.

- Dauda Abubakar

The Book Sellers Limited

Ada Okere Agbasimalo writes with a passion

— Victor Anoliefo

Quill Master, Abuja Literary Society.

Mum you are rare, your book too.

— Clubstar (son).

Nwaanyi a i di omimi.

— Anglican Cleric

During my travel to the U.S., I read and re read the book again. In the chapter where Ada described the return of the Biafran soldiers from the war to their families and how Udemba’s mother had the boots of her son returned to her instead, I had to drop the book and had myself a very deep and sorrowful weep. I cried alone for about 15 minutes. No book had ever had such an effect on me.

Chukwuemeka Ifezulike

DEDICATION

• To Mrs. Dorothy Chiatuogu Okere (nee Onyiriuka) and all the distant market women.

• To all broken-hearted women and children of difficult times.

• To the Forest Dames and other dames, especially those who were not as lucky.

• To the fallen ones on all sides. To the humanitarians.

• To late BUN Okere, Johnson Ogbonnaya Okere, Charles Okere, Mrs Caroline Okere, Mrs. Onyekwere Joy Okere; and now, Reginald Chukwuemeka Okere, all sorely missed.

• And, ultimately, to God Almighty, the strength of our lives!

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I acknowledge with gratitude, God’s limitless goodness, without which nothing is ever anything.

Several individuals made contributions, morally, intellectually and otherwise, to the successful completion of this book. These include my dear husband and pillar of support, Engineer Emmanuel Agbasimalo, who still remains, The husband to marry, as well as our great quartet - Obiora, Ikenna, Chibueze and Chinazor. I reserve special thanks for my siblings for their special impact. Uncles, aunties, in-laws, friends and associates have a way of showing genuine interest in one’s work. They are hereby appreciated.

CONTENTS

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Foreword

Preface

The Forest Dames

The Endangered Species

Kaduna Main Market

The East-Bound Locomotive

Home, Sweet Home

Hail, Biafra, The Land Of Freedom!

The Air-Raid

The Distant Market Women

The Gravel Women

The Exodus

Okolochi

The Funeral

Oh, Rosa!

Dog Eats Dog

Humanitarian Help

Emeke-Obibi

The Night Invasion

The Hideout

Friends Of The Forest Dames

The Reprieve

Return Today, Run Again Tomorrow

The Parade

Happy Survival

The Roadblock

Gone With The War

Twenty Bucks

The Vandal’s Baby

Rehabilitation

Lelenwa

Dear Mother

Still Endangered

The Olive Branch

FOREWORD

Reading this third work of AdaOkere Agbasimalo’s had the effect of catapulting me irresistibly some forty years back into the last millennium and throwing up such strong and vivid reliving of the dark and traumatising years of our Nigeria versus Biafra civil war. I could easily have assumed the name of any of those distressed young and innocent victims represented in the book with the daylight clarity of a firsthand witness of the 1967-1970 civil war. I know I will not be far from the truth if I said that the author herself might not just be narrating some fiction germinated in a fertile imagination. Her story could be a true and sadly lamentable reality of a mismanaged political era.

Fictionalising issues as serious as wars is easily the best way to expose the horrifying consequences of war situations, which usually manifest in the complete absence of peace and fairness; and the palpable presence of gross suffering that may continue long afterwards. To drive home the point in a most vivid manner, the author, AdaOkere Agbasimalo, exhibits the mien of a gladiator, not of war, but a gladiator with a peace mission, armed as for war but channelling all her energies to the pursuit of peace and fairness. History the world over has shown that only fairness and equity can guarantee peace and progress. It is, therefore, unacceptable that nations all over the world, especially in the developing world, have found it difficult to maintain this balance. Thus, populations continue to be decimated in wars with the attendant destruction of socio-economic life. Babies are born into the midst of that elastic stretch of poverty that characterises wars within which life tosses people about, leaving some dead and others alive to tell the story.

The author thus adopts the strategy of exposing, in a time of peace, the horrors of war and hinges her discourse on the futility of war and the wisdom in nestling fairness, equity, peace and progress. She subtly urges society to make the better choice, which consists of eliminating war-inducing factors and situations; and if, in spite of that effort, war still erupts, protecting civilians, especially women, thanks to whom life goes on in times of upheaval.

The author seems to capture the very import of war under one word – suffering. And reading through the book, there is convincing evidence of intense suffering, so much so that it would appear that from whichever perspective it is viewed, to experience war is to experience gross suffering. The author, therefore, laments suffering and so condemns war, presenting this book as an olive branch to the world’s warring factions, the opposition and the victorious or vanquished groups, urging all parties to consider the option of peace and fairness in whatever country they may be, for that is the better option.

The gender dimension of the book reveals much about the vulnerability of the female person all over the world and the deficient governmental capacity to protect her in times of war. Protecting her person is hardly seen as a matter of social responsibility and so she bears the ugly brunt of the psychological indignity of war, leaving an ever-present scar on her psyche.

In Africa and parts of the developing world, wars can be ignited as easily as bush fires and this continues to fuel the underdevelopment that trails the regions. This is unfortunate because, apart from the destructive nature of wars, the characteristic behavioural aftermath invariably leaves a crack in the collective psyche of the people, especially in civil wars where the conquered still live with the conqueror. This can still remain so notwithstanding some official quips about no victor, no vanquished. Such experiences abound in Africa and other developing countries. AdaOkere, in The Forest Dames, simply sets out to paint a big picture of the supposed small issues of war, any war.

In an earlier book, Bow You Must, in respect of which I had the privilege of writing a review, the author presented a different kind of war – a war of cultural norms, values and obnoxious practices, a war of man-made class distinctions and discriminations and their attendant deformation of social conscience, denial of the equal dignity of all persons, and the retardation of true civilisation and economic growth. That was a global war that had no territorial restrictions.

Through this third major work, Ada seems to present us with a collection of snippets and echoes typical of civil wars from all over Africa, not necessarily limited to any country in particular, exposing the fact that all over Africa the story of unbridled callousness remains true and pervades the air at all levels and in different eras.

This is definitely a call to Africa and the developing world – and indeed the whole world – to a sober introspection and identification of what aspects of this story affect them. This is expected to evoke a candid self-admonition and consequent resolve to opt for peace and stability in the world.

Chief (Mrs.) Justina Anayo Offiah, SAN.

PREFACE

The world has known wars – Biblical, Medieval, Victorian, Napoleonic, civil wars, jihads, contemporary wars with technological sophistication, etc. They all come with devastating effects. Whichever way one chooses to look at it, war portends evil, although many are wont to argue that war is a function of the balance of power, which is an active ingredient of international politics. Others would argue that war settles scores and brings about renewed peace. This, however, can only be possible if the cause of war is identified and nipped forever. Only in this way can the effect of war be doused by the resultant sustainable peace.

The big pictures of war are often painted in books, tabloids, celluloid etc. but only little is seen of the small pictures of its intricacies and peculiarities. Sometimes it becomes necessary to isolate and highlight the plight of the grass under the fighting elephants and paint a big picture of it. This is what this faction is all about. Someone just has to speak for the stifled voices. It was Jacob Kellenberger who, in 2001, as President of the International Committee of the Red Cross, said that, Protecting women in war is not merely a question of law; it is also a matter of social responsibility and common sense, because it is thanks to women that life goes on in times of upheavals.

Unfortunately, this counsel is never heeded either because things often get out of hand or the winning side just could not be bothered. And this tends to fuel the scary impression that wars may have emerged as an integral part of human existence, especially as they have persisted in spite of global efforts to curb them. It is evident that man and machine constitute the ingredients of war. But it might very well appear that machines are produced by man for the destruction of man, while man is produced from man for the exploitation of woman. Men, women and children all eventually become victims of war but women always appear to be double victims. It is hoped that the thoughts enunciated in this book prove the authenticity of this claim but, more importantly, it is hoped that this effort will help to truly heal all war wounds, particularly those fought in Africa, where shortly after the colonial masters left, compatriots went for each other’s throats, destroying themselves and whatever legacies the retreating colonialists left behind.

AdaOkere Agbasimalo

LAMENTATION!!

They stripped us and savoured our nakedness

Went in and out of our women

Like needlework

Threatened our male descent seed

They defecated in the backyard on our sacred places

Urinated over our kitchen furnace

Like inebriated bulldogs

Virgin places are denuded There are no more secrets There is no more privacy

The glory is gone

For they had the gun We had only our pride To ride

And our ruse and trap!

JUBILATION!!

Yesterday I could not touch them Today they have become my plaything. Ha! Ha! Ha!

AFFIRMATION!!

Not for much longer… Not anymore!!!

For peace shall be the core!

The farther back you are able to look

The further forward you will be able to see.

– Winston Churchill.

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1

THE FOREST DAMES

She slumbered in the wee hours of a September morning in the year 2000 and the presence of a worthy Companion overwhelmed her semi-conscious self. She tried to ignore the effect and continue with her soft-snore posture. But the Companion was as insistent as always. Soon, she was wide awake and, before she knew it, engrossed in an engaging chat with her long-time pal. They both took a familiar trip into the past, rolling back the scrolls of history spanning several decades to the 1960s.

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I hear the sound of water in half-filled containers.

And footsteps on the path.

And whispers too.

Can it be them?

Oh, yes, they are here!

The forest dames had waited anxiously for another nocturnal visit. They had looked forward also to the rations that always came with the visits. The brooding darkness simmered with the sound of the wild. The dames had learnt to live with the sound. They had resigned themselves to the belief that both life and death were in the hands of their Maker. Besides, at the rate people were dying, one thanked the Almighty if one saw the next day. ‘After all,’ they asked themselves, ‘between being devoured by beasts and being shattered into pieces by mortar bombs, which is preferable? Either way the result is death,’ they consoled themselves, ‘and, it is inevitable.’ Brave stance! But the dames were still scared stiff, never failing to imagine the likelihood of a famished beast leaping towards them, and the muffled last prayers that would follow. They were equally apprehensive of what news would come with the visit.

Ugonma, Adaeze, Sofuruchi and Lelenwa now focused their gaze toward the secret pathway that led the two women into sight. This is the story of two brave mothers and four courageous girls, fondly called Gonma, Deze, Sofuru and Lele. The women approached the shed that for more than three months had provided shelter for the girls. A sense of joy pervaded the air. The girls rose up and hugged the women, one after the other.

Welcome.

Thank Goodness you are here again.

Nice to see you.

Hope all is well.

They were speaking at the same time.

Oh yes, we thank God. Nice to see you, too, the women replied.

Drawing close to her mother, Deze began to talk to her. Sofuru and Lele spoke with the other woman, their mother. Gonma just looked on, remaining silent most of the time. Her mother was not there. She had gone to the distant market and had not returned. So Gonma simply listened to the conversation of the others. Her two brothers and only sister were home alone, finding it hard even to feed. Their middle-aged father had been forcibly taken away from home by some aggressors.

Mama, how has it been at home since after your last visit? How is everybody? Deze inquired.

Daughter, we are all very well but Dennis’ daughter was captured yesterday.

Wakego? Oh my God, she was captured? Wasn’t she hiding like we are? Oh my God!

Deze was jolted.

She was. They came when she had returned from her hiding place and took her unawares. Her wailing did not move them; neither did the pleas of all those around. That was two nights ago. They also came to look for you again tonight, just about an hour before we took off for this visit. They said Mrs. Nnadi’s son, what’s that his foreign name again?

Leon? Deze supplied.

Ehen, Leon. They said he told them you were in. Adaeze, they gave me a shock when they provided details about you: your name, school, age, physique, everything. I told them you were not in but they insisted on searching every room, every corner of the house. This was about 9.00 p.m. They must have been assured that those in their hiding places had not only come out of hiding but were already asleep or getting ready to go to bed. The Land Rover, which they came with, was left in front of the house, idling; the driver still behind the wheels, waiting to move. They beamed their torchlight at every corner of the house, getting down on their knees to look under the beds and tables. When their search did not turn up anything, your visitors began to talk angrily about Leon. They claimed he had told them a lie and promised to teach him a lesson. After that, they drove away making a lot of noise.

Deze’s skin was covered with goose bumps. Hmm, Mama, I’m so scared.

Oh no, my daughter, don’t be scared, they can’t find you. My God Jehovah will see you through.

The girls all stared at Deze’s mother, interested in the story, thankful to God that they had become forest dames. Sofuru’s mother told the story of Ogechi, a mother of two, who was snatched from her husband while they were having dinner.

One of the aggressors had ordered the woman to stop eating and follow them. Trembling, she picked up her baby and got up to go with them but was rebuked and ordered to leave the baby there. Ogechi left her baby in obedience. As she was led away, her five-month-old baby who was still on breast milk, cried as if she knew what was going on. Her husband, Obed looked on, speechless. His wife was gone with the invading soldiers and he now had to take over the care of their baby, The girls shuddered. The woman continued.

You all know Okedu, the fisherman? They stopped him as he strolled into his compound from the village stream and told him he must go with them. Okedu called out to one of his children and tried to hand over a hooked fish to him but was not allowed to do so. They abducted the fish as well and Okedu found himself in their military camp. But do you know what happened next?

Her listeners shook their heads.

A few days later, when he was asked to go with the other captives to the stream to fetch water for chores at the camp, Okedu saw an opportunity to escape. He dived into the Otamiri river and swam back home, being familiar with the tributaries. Hmm, I think he took that escape dive for two reasons. The first is that he is a good swimmer; the second is that he was confident Otamiri would be benign to one of its own. We believe that those whose source of drinking water is the Otamiri are never drowned in it.

Deze’s mother told the girls about an elderly man, Joseph, who was beaten to death because he tried to stop the uniformed intruders from forcibly taking his bicycle.

After they beat the man to death they still took his bicycle away. They also took bicycles belonging to other villagers for no known reason. Yams, other food crops and livestock were loaded into a big truck with the bicycles and taken away. It did not bother them if we all starved to death. Deze’s mother took a deep breath and continued.

As you know, such sporadic raids are usual and do not bother us anymore. I am just surprised that Josy chose to be stiff-necked. See how he lost his life, just like that, Deze’s mother lamented, truly sad about the happenings.

When will all this stop? Sofuru wondered aloud.

It will surely stop some day. No storm lasts forever. By and large, it will stop, Lele affirmed, her voice betraying her doubts. It had better stop. This is very distressing. I want to go back to school. I’ve finished reading all the books I have here. I’ve gone through them more than twice. What is all this, eh? What crime did one commit to deserve this predicament? Deze lamented.

Oh, Dezy, I almost forgot, her mother said. I brought you more books. This other bag contains them. Please, take it easy. This thing will end some day. Lele is right. No storm, no situation lasts forever. Yes, everybody is distressed but, in a situation like this, we must look to God’s grace.

Deze grabbed the bag, looked into it and felt relieved that at least the next few days would not be boring. There were three more of her books in the bag. She pulled them out, reading out their titles as she did so: The Basket of Flowers, She Who Must be Obeyed, Beyond Pardon.

Hmm, Mama, thank you.

Bookworm! the other girls teased her and she smiled. They all laughed. Deze loved her books. Her mother knew that so, before each visit, she rummaged cartons, drawers, lockers and cupboards in search of any to take to her daughter. On this visit, three authors, Lilian Gask, Bertha Clay and Rider Haggard were going to be Deze’s companions until the next visit.

Ever since that distant market saga, Gonma had become taciturn. She just looked on and listened, not exactly contributing, a lot going through her mind. She felt really handicapped and remained mostly silent. As if Deze’s mother knew that Gonma was wondering about the fate of her father, she announced, to the young girl’s amazement and joy that, her father had returned home. Gonma was now smiling.

When did this happen? she asked

One day after our last visit. We were very happy to see him quite healthy. He told us how he escaped through the bush path when his captors asked him and some other captives to go and fetch firewood, Deze’s mother explained, and everybody was indeed delighted to see a smile on Gonma’s lips.

The girls ate the food with relish and drank the water to their satisfaction. All, that is, except Gonma. She had lost her appetite. The good news she had just received did not bring it back; rather, it so filled her with joy that she still could not eat. It did not matter that her mother was not there. The food was to be shared by all of them. The others had their fill and the remaining food was kept for the next couple of