Table of Contents
The Igbo is one of the major
tribes in Nigeria. Somewhere in ipostthisweek.com, the Igbo people have been
described in different contexts as an entity in Nigeria. So, we are not going to
spend time describing the people, society, and culture.
The Igbo proverbs: ‘Mkpuru
onye kuru n’okochi k’oga aghoro n’udu mmiri’ (literally, ‘the seed you sow
in the dry season, you will reap in rainy season’ which means, ‘you reap what
you sow’) and ‘ukwa rue oge ya, odaa’ (literally, ‘the breadfruit time arrives
and it falls’ which means, ‘there is time for everything’) are causative
expressions that everything is governed by simple laws of cause and effect. While
another proverb: ‘ihe onye metara o buru’ (literally, ‘whatever you do,
you carry’ which means, ‘you are responsible for your actions’) is the karmic unraveling
of its interpretation of crime and punishment or fatalism.
It must be said here that the
Igbo idea of ‘crime and punishment’ is quite different from the idea expressed
by Fyodor Dostoevsky in his Crime and Punishment which deals mainly with alienation
from society.
It is difficult, in Igbo
society to differentiate between an effect that is a result of good deeds and
effects that result from bad deeds. We know that a cause is anything that
produces an event or condition, and an effect is the outcome of that event or
condition.
The principle of causation in
Igbo is described from the perspective of a folklore that exposes the
helplessness of human conditions, the problem of evil, the limitations of human
powers or inventions, the metaphysical nature of existence, the ephemerality of
all things, and the omnipotence and benevolence of God.
The folklore is the type every
Igbo parent, of course, not the modern Igbo parents because most of them hardly
speak the language and much more have knowledge of the basic folklore.
This folklore was told by the
late Bessy. She was 103 years when she died. When she was in her mid-forties, and
in the month of January, in the dry season. The children were playing on the
dusty but cool earth. By the corner, some boys were roasting northern gamba
grass (otherwise known as Andropogen gayanus), a species of grass native to
most of the savannas of Africa and making knockouts from them.
She began to speak. Once upon
a time! And the children left all they were doing and gathered around her.
There was a widow, who had an only child, a boy about seven years old. His name
was Nwaka. As was with the custom then, people go to their neighbour’s kitchen
to fetch some embers to make their fires in their kitchen.
Nwaka left to fetch embers
from their neighbour’s kitchen. While on the way, calamity struck. Large and
heavy breadfruit fell off the Ukwa tree and killed him. The widow wailed and wept.
The Breadfruit
This lamentation poses many
questions and important ones but the most important is:
What can I do to this breadfruit?
The breadfruit that killed Nwaka for nothing because he went to fetch embers for his mother.
Then, what the Igbos call obi
(the word ‘obi’ can mean different things depending on how the ascent marks are
placed. ‘Obi’ can mean, ‘heart’, a ‘male name or surname’, ‘sacred homestead
for ancestor veneration’, or a ‘title for a king’). But obi here means a
round long piece of wood about six feet long, slightly heavy, and about 6 to 10
cm in width. At times, it has a slightly pointed bottom.
The Obi
The obi divided the breadfruit
into smithereens. The same lamentation poses another question:
What can I do to this obi?
What did obi do?
The obi that divided the breadfruit.
What did the breadfruit do?
The breadfruit that killed Nwaka for nothing because he went to fetch embers for his mother.
The Termites
Then, termites ate up the obi.
The lamentation poses some questions.
What can I do to these termites?
What did the termites do?
The termites that ate up the obi.
What did obi do?
The obi that divided the breadfruit.
What did the breadfruit do?
The breadfruit that killed Nwaka for nothing because he went to fetch embers for his mother.
The Chicken
Then, the chicken ate the
termites. The lamentation poses some more questions.
What can I do to this chicken?
What did the chicken do?
The chicken ate the termites.
What did the termites do?
The termites that ate up the obi.
What did obi do?
The obi that divided the breadfruit.
What did the breadfruit do?
The breadfruit that killed Nwaka for nothing because he went to fetch embers for his mother.
The Kite
And the kite swooped down on
the chicken and carried it away. The lamentation yet again, poses some
questions.
“What can I do to this kite?”
“What did the kite do?”
The kite that carried the chicken.
What did the chicken do?
The chicken ate the termites.
What did the termites do?
The termites that ate up the obi.
What did obi do?
The obi that divided the breadfruit.
What did the breadfruit do?
The breadfruit that killed Nwaka for nothing because he went to fetch embers for his mother.
The Gun
And the gun killed the kite.
The lamentation continues with its wailing questions.
What can I do to the gun?
What did the gun do?
The gun that killed the kite.
What did the kite do?
The kite that carried the chicken.
What did the chicken do?
The chicken ate the termites.
What did the termites do?
The termites that ate up the obi.
What did obi do?
The obi that divided the breadfruit.
What did the breadfruit do?
The breadfruit that killed Nwaka for nothing because he went to fetch embers for his mother.
The Blacksmith
Then, the blacksmith destroyed
the gun. Once again, the lamentation continues with its questions.
What can I do to the blacksmith?
What did the blacksmith do?
The blacksmith that destroyed the gun.
What did the gun do?
The gun that killed the kite.
What did the kite do?
The kite that carried the chicken.
What did the chicken do?
The chicken ate the termites.
What did the termites do?
The termites that ate up the obi.
What did obi do?
The obi that divided the breadfruit.
What did the breadfruit do?
The breadfruit that killed Nwaka for nothing because he went to fetch embers for his mother.
Death
And death killed the
blacksmith. One final moment, the lamentation continues.
What can I do to death?
What did death do?
The death that killed the blacksmith.
What did the blacksmith do?
The blacksmith that destroyed the gun.
What did the gun do?
The gun that killed the kite.
What did the kite do?
The kite that carried the chicken.
What did the chickens do?
The chicken ate the termites.
What did the termites do?
The termites that ate up the obi.
What did obi do?
The obi that divided the breadfruit.
What did the breadfruit do?
The breadfruit that killed Nwaka for nothing because he went to fetch embers for his mother.
God, the Almighty
Finally, God took death, and
nothing happens to God.
The principle of causation
states that in every cause, there’s an effect. Does every good cause lead to a
good result or does it lead to an evil effect? Contrary, can something that
started as evil bring about a good result? These are questions that are beyond
human comprehension. Why does evil befall the good? Why would a widow lose her
only son for nothing, only because he went to fetch some embers from a
neighbour’s kitchen?
The Ukwa tree is known
to bear heavy breadfruits. These fruits are heavy and quite costly in the
market. The fruits do not fall at random. It takes time for breadfruit to fall
off the Ukwa tree. Hence, the Igbo proverb: ‘ukwa rue oge ya, odaa.’ Was
it coincidental, accidental, or fatalistic that one breadfruit would fall off
the Ukwa tree at the exact moment Nwaka was passing under it? Why would
the breadfruit take away the only child of a widow?
The folklore also reveals the
ephemerality of existence. Nothing lasts forever. No power is indomitable. No
power is mighty enough to stay on eternally but God’s. The strong and mighty can
be defeated by the small and weak, just as the small and weak can be destroyed
by the strong and mighty.
The best principle is to cause peace among nations, peoples, and cultures. Let’s not harm one another. Let’s stop igniting conflicts among peoples, nations, cultures, and religions. The earth is large enough for everyone. If we were to live forever, then arrogating and acquiring every piece of the earth may seem logical. But we are not here forever.
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