One More Tragedy

One More Tragedy

Zainab writes about one more tragedy

Zainab Usman, blogger at Zainab’s Musings

Zainab Usman, Nigerian scholar and blogger, writes beautifully. Her words about the Nice tragedy are poignant.

I wanted to say “her words about the most recent tragedy,” but it’s no longer the most recent. I just read about police and others killed in Baton Rouge. One more tragedy to mourn. 

She was and still is in Nice, taking a summer French course.

She was at the fireworks on Bastille Day. She left right after, just a few minutes before the truck came through.

She gets back to her apartment. She says, “As the night wears on, and gives in to daybreak, the details of the terrorist attack emerge. The death toll climbs higher. From ‘dozens’ and ‘twenties’ to fifty, sixty, seventy and eighty. I am more stunned the more I realise how lucky I am to have left that area immediately after the ‘feu d’artifice’ (fireworks display).”

She goes to her class the next morning, but doesn’t venture far. She feels numb, she says.

“Then details of a coup in Turkey begin to emerge late Friday night,” she says, “and it is too much for me. I switch off all news channels and go to bed.”

One more tragedy is too much for all of us.

Yet she continues to write and study. She talks about the past and even current attempts to oust dictators or establish better governance in many places.

She says, “We are not safe from people empowered and incubated in these vast ungoverned spaces partly created by foreign policy mistakes, miscalculations and failures towards Iraq, Libya and Syria, and from instabilities in Egypt and Mali. Extremists are patient beings, they operate with lengthy time horizons often spanning generations and defying the short-termism of elected politicians.”

How do you deal with one more tragedy?

Nigerian Female Software Engineer 

I found this story on a blog called Not of Code. I was intrigued to read about the Nigerian woman featured here.

I am Moyinoluwa Adeyemi, Software Engineer at Swifta Systems, and this is my work life

Housewarming Party 

Last night Clem and I went to a housewarming party in Bridgeport, the large and somewhat impoverished city north of us.

Slightly similar

A little like this but better

Our friends’ new house is in St. Mary’s By the Sea, Bridgeport’s wealthier neighborhood. The home is gorgeous, with windows all around on all three floors looking out at Long Island Sound.

I should have taken pictures.

Kind of like their chandelier

Not like this but a bit similar

I especially loved the chandeliers in the living/dining area on the main floor.

They were like delicate branches with soft yellow long-life bulbs that illuminated the room with a bright and gentle glow.

I found two pictures online; neither is quite right but they can give you an idea.

I’m suspecting they had the chandeliers custom-made to fit their room.

Ebong Udoma

Ebong Udoma, NPR and WSHU Senior Reporter

We met a family from Nigeria, also Igbo like my husband, who live in Woodbridge, near New Haven, not far away. We’ll certainly be in touch with them. I shocked them by addressing them in Igbo!

We caught up with our friend Ebong Udoma, NPR and WSHU senior newscaster. He is beginning a weekly program called Capitol Avenue with Ebong Udoma soon. I look forward to tuning in.

I haven’t had lobster for a while, so the dinner was a treat.

We shared a table with a couple who have known our host Oni for many years. They asked about Boko Haram, as most people do when they hear we are connected to Nigeria. “What about the girls?” they said.

There hasn’t been a lot of news lately. I shared what I knew.

The End of Mgbokwuocha’s Story 

In case you missed part one you can find it here.

Mgbokwuocha was the youngest daughter. When their father died her older sisters had already married. The only son was not capable of managing the land. Since the mother had been brought into the family deliberately to have children and ensure the survival of the lineage, she had to take action. So she called the elders who advised her to conduct an ‘inside marriage, or nnuikwa to give Mgbokwuocha the role of female son.

She went to the chief priest or dibia. “You must provide four jugs of palm wine, one live cock, fifteen kola nuts, and food for the umunna,” the senior men of the clan, who will be witnesses, he said.

At the time of the ceremony the dibia took center stage with Mgbokwuocha beside him. First he held up one of the kola nuts. “With this kola we honor you, our ancestors,” he said. “Kola brings life.”

Then he held up the rooster. “We offer you this cock as a sign that we are bringing you our daughter and making her a son and your bride,” he said.

From then on she became a man and had all the rights of a man, and was launched on the journey of obiechina “may my kindred never end,” that is, the lineage will continue.

She could then inherit the land and transfer to her children. Because she owned the property she was able to barter land for cash or goods, sell a few profitable trees or their fruits, and grow her own crops for cash. It was her duty to have sons.

Men who fathered her children were called efuru efu, useless fun seekers. They were not responsible for the children nor could the children inherit from them.

She died in 2005. Her children live in the compound today. Her older son now owns the property and it will pass to his son. She succeeded!

 

Author: Catherine Onyemelukwe

Author, blogger, speaker. Born in New York, grew up in mid west United States, lived in Nigeria for 24 years, back in U.S. since 1986. Advocate for racial justice.

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