Years ago, I made one of the greatest mistakes of my life: I organised a book launch for my first book, The Abyssinian Boy, which I wrote, after living and suffering in India and invited politicians.
This was out of greed and also, because I thought I had access to them. It was close to election time; so I wanted to take advantage of that opportunity. It backfired. One of the politicians who pledged millions at my book launch was Sir Sylvester N Anyanwu, who was elected Senator for the Imo North (Okigwe) constituency of Imo State.
I thought my life would change, so I completely relied on these politicians who came to my launch and said glowing things about how I am the future of tomorrow and things like that. I was told I should come and pick my cheque later.
One year later, I was still calling Senator Anyanwu and made frequent visits to Abuja. He knows how to ignore calls. And he knows how to say this on the phone, “Yes, Onyeka, what is the problem? Call my PA.” I tried and I got tired. From Lagos to Abuja, I would go. I tried. And I never got to see him. Even when I had surgery in India and told him, he sounded very sympathetic, but that was where it ended. I even called him from the hospital in India.
Finally, after one certain Christmas celebration, in that dusty weather, I went with a cousin of mine to visit The King. We begged the gate man, an Hausa guy and he told us that the Senator was not around. One of his mobile police men told us that he was around. So, we waited. We waited at the gate for about three hours. Now, the Senator’s convoy was driving out. He saw me, standing helpless there and stopped his car. I was happy. He said, “Nna, kedu?” I said, “Adi m nma, sir.”
Then he took me inside his house. I saw bags of rice with PDP written on it and umbrella too, with multiple colours. Lots of bags of rice. Then, the Senator said something profound to my young ear: “Nna, the way you are going about this is not right. You know that not every promise made, has to be fulfilled.” I was 22 years old. That stung me in the ears. I went home, downcast, dampened and completely demoralised. But he was right, NOT EVERY PROMISE MADE HAS TO BE FULFILLED. I agree with him.
After his case, I tried not to give up. Then, Governor Ikedi Ohakim and his wife promised me lots of things too. They may have forgotten, but one of the emails Ohakim sent to me on Friday, October 10, 2010, clearly states: “Nna, please discuss with Okey Bakassi.” It was nice of him, really, to email me. A sitting governor was emailing me! How thoughtful! I was blown away.
He replied all my emails, actually. And made sure I met Okey Bakassi. Me and Okey Bakassi met in his hotel in Lagos. We talked and talked. He didn’t meet me to give me the money the Governor had promised me. He met me to talk about how to get the money. I was confused. And then he suggested I go through my uncle who was the Chief Press Secretary to the Governor and get the money. That the money had been approved. I was confused again. I gave up, finally. And focused on my writing and my life.
A year later, I came in contact with Rochas Okorocha. We kept talking on the phone and I had brought in a film crew from The Netherlands to make a documentary on him and the Rochas Okorocha Foundation. I spoke with his daughter several times, too. Once the film crew arrived Owerri, which Rochas himself told me on the phone to get to Owerri town and call him, me and my film crew waited in Owerri the whole day and Rochas did not pick my calls or return my messages.
I went home in shame and cried my eyes out. But I did not die. Few months later, he became the Governor of Imo State and stopped answering his calls himself. His daughter too became a big girl and would never answer me politely. I just moved on.
In December of 2013, I travelled to my village. It’s also in Imo State. As soon as I got there that evening, I cried. My driver saw me cry. Yes, I wept. Tears filled my eyes. My parents were just smiling, but they knew it got to me. My cousins were smiling and laughing, because it was good to see again. But I was crying, because the roads leading to my house were messed up. The potholes were amazing. And the driver found it hard reversing. I left my village on time, back to Owerri town, where I had to lodge in a cheap guesthouse.
It was in that cheap guesthouse that my thoughts on security in Owerri changed. Anyone could walk into my room. Once you came and said you were looking for Onyeka, the receptionist would point you to my room. Few months later, a friend of mine, Noel Tochukwu, who had gone there to do his Imo’s Got Talent, was shot in his room.
The last time we chatted, when I was back in Paris, as he was transiting through Paris, back to Nigeria, I told him not to go there. He was passionate about what he was doing. He was also the greatest supporter and defender of Rochas Okorocha that I knew. He would engage people on Facebook and tell them how his Rochas was doing. It was in his Rochas Okorocha’s town that he was shot in his own hotel room! And the media said: “Rochas Okorocha condemns the brutal murder of Noel Tochukwu.” The story ends.
Now, I don’t know where Senator SN Anyanwu is. Maybe he’s dead? I don’t know, but he has made pledges and promises to so many young people in Imo State, who believed him and depended on his promises. Their hopes have been dashed to the floor. One of them is an orphan who was in Madonna Science School. This young man was shot in his dormitory by armed robbers. One of his legs is bad.
He needed surgeries to fix it. He didn’t have money; doesn’t have parents to see him through university, so the Good Samaritan, Senator Anyanwu, promised him heaven and earth. He never did one. This young man has been living a tough life. He may not get over this. But I just hope Senator Anyanwu will stay alive and see what we all become. It’s a matter of time. Are we not the leaders oftomorrow? Did they not tell us the youths that we are the bomb? What happens when a bomb explodes?
Today, Ikedi Ohakim wants to be reelected the Governor of Imo State. Rochas Okorocha wants to remain in power. He has tasted it. It tastes real good. He has billboards all over the capital city that ‘tell’ us that he is working. There are constructions happening everywhere in Owerri town, that never get completed, with those tiny roads and the villages still don’t have electricity and roads. We bought lots of fuel in Christmas to generate light.
There is no life in Imo State; you just have to chill from one beer parlour to another and you are not even sure you will get home alive. Boys are shooting guns rampantly. Imo State University students are still considered the most backward anywhere in the world. Go on the internet and see what they do. This has nothing to do with over-generalisation. They are not worth your stress. They don’t know where they are going to. They are clueless. Always looking for who to direct them, because they are being ruled by clueless set of people. In short, Rochas Okorocha has no vision. He’s just a propagandist.
In the small state of Puebla in Mexico where I live right now, life is smooth. And I get tired of the good things that happen to me sometimes. Why did I run to Mexico? Because the Mexicans saw what I was doing and offered me a better life. And I have always encouraged young people to leave Nigeria. Our parents have failed us, economically and politically. Our parents have allowed people like Rochas and Ohakim assume power.
It’s funny, but my writing won’t do anything, so I am actually going to start a grass-root campaign, show young people how beautiful my life is outside Nigeria, give them reasons why they should boycott the next election; why they should not allow their aged parents waste their time in voting these men who don’t keep to promises. It’s a pity, but I will spend money to bring brouhaha amidst the young people who have decided to sell their souls to the devils. These politicians are your friends only when they need you to vote for them. Should I have banked on the promises of these retards, I would be wasting in Nigeria, I would have gone into drugs to calm my depression; I would have loved cultism so much, because someone would offer me a gun to shoot at sight. I personally know many young people whose failures should be blamed on Nigerian politicians.
Why would I travel thousands of miles to live and teach in Mexico if I was encouraged by our lying political class? Would we ever forgive Rochas Okorocha for lying to Noel Tochukwu and leading him to his death and pretending that nothing ever happened? Only when we boycott the elections, will they know that the youths are the future!
Onyeka Nwelue is award-winning author of The Abyssinian Boy (DADA Books, 2009) and Burnt (Hattus, 2014). He’s currently Professor of African Studies and Literature at Instituto d’Amicis, Puebla in Mexico.
The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author.
