Green, White,Green--And Puddles of Red

           The green-white-green flag rises overhead, and the blazing sun--a burnt yellow, makes the threadbare fabric glisten. A new Nigeria emerges--an independent one.  Yet, who knew that more problems would come, that freedom was bitter sweet?  It all started with  economic and ethnic tensions between the north and the south along with electoral fraud and massacres of the Igbo people. 

          This led to various coups by certain Igbo protestors/activists.  Soon Igbos were the target of genocide. Massacres: maimed bodies strewn across the streets by northern extremists, the dust roads stained red from soaking up the blood of civilians.  Some could not hide the identity that was plastered on their faces. So they paid the price, with their lives. Eventually, Igbos could no longer take it. Something had to be done. Yes! "Let's form a new nation" they thought."Our government will be better too!" 

         Being a part of the new Nigeria was too parasitical , too suffocating,--too deadly. "We'll call it..Biafra", they mused. "Then, we would really be free, free to be ourselves--free to live as we pleased". Biafra could not stand though.  The Nigerian government opted to  reunite the country by force. Biafra was weakened by hi-jacked relief planes, slaughter, and the fall of her capital. Nigeria brought Biafra to her knees, resulting in the death of about 2 million people who were simply victims of circumstance.  

       Fast forward, and the Biafran war(A.K.A the Nigerian Civil War) has left scars. Some people don't want to talk about it, and some still discuss it as an integral part of Nigerian history. They have stories for days tucked behind mental doors leading to the past. Others even hold grudges against Yoruba and Hausa people for what happened. Tribalism takes a toll. Marriage to them, in the eyes of the post traumatic, is like trading across enemy lines. Still for some, the past remains the past and bears no connection to the present.

                         

   

This photo was taken at a traditional wedding I attended this summer for an Igbo bride and Yoruba groom.  Let's just say, the Yoruba folks did not need a DJ to play music when it was time for the groom's side to dance in.

-This post was inspired by Chimamanda Adichie's Half of A Yellow Sun.

 Against the backdrop of war, the high life music scene was in full spin. Here's a song from that era by the late Cardinal Rex Jim Lawson.  The instrumental is great.