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The Biafran War: The Way I Saw It.

  
  The Biafran war represented some of the darkest period of Nigerian history, and for me it showed how terrible, how wicked, how greedy, how dark human beings could be.  The on the street execution of defenseless Ibos.  The looting. The name calling.  "Oyanmiri." It also showed me the finest, some of the finest, memories of my father. He hid and protected his Ibo friends, and many he had, from persecution and death.   The war marked the beginning of the break-up of the closeness within the  Ezomoghene family.  On the one side were those who supported the Federal troops, and on the other who supported the cause of the Biafrans. I cannot say my dad was sympathetic to the Biafran cause.  He was definitely sympathetic to the Ibos, as people, as fellow human beings, as friends, as business partners. On a human level, he abhorred the slaughter.  One of his best friends was an Ibo, the guy who founded City Grammar School, now Asoro Grammar School, which I eventually attended. 

The early 70s  in Nigeria represented a time of hope and optimism. That is especially because we had lived in a cocoon, in hiding, running away from bombs and bullets for three years during the war from 1967 to 1970.  There was a burst of energy never seen before.  Yakubu Gowon, the then Head of State launched his program of reconcialiation and reconstruction and he had abundant oil money to fund it. We had overcome a divisive war and we had a feeling we could overcome anything.  In my mind, though I knew the war was over, I had also seen how unstable the country could be; I had seen man's capacity for destruction, and I wanted out. I am sure this played a part, consciously or unconsciously my decision to go abroad.

What do I remember most vividly about the war: I remember, and I still hear the jet planes circling above just about to drop their bombs.  I can hear the anti - aircraft fire. I can see the students - We are running out the door, jumping out the windows, heading for home, heading for cover.  The school is closed for a day or two, sometimes for the rest of the term.  In 1967 I was in Primary Four. My school was never hit.  As odd as this might sound, at night it was exhilarating to watch the dazzling display of anti-aircraft fire. It was pure fireworks, like the Fourth of July, in America.

A. Izevbizua

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