Those who have read There Was a Country by St. Chinua Achebe would agree that it is one of those rare works that encapsulate what the month of May represents to the people of Africa—particularly the Biafran people of West Africa. May holds deep historical and emotional significance, marked by events such as Africa Day, the Igbo Landing of 1803, and Biafra Remembrance Day. It is for this reason that I bring this reflection on the very last day of May.
The book begins with Achebe’s early life—his religious and educational background, marriage, writing career, etc.
It then deals with the role played by prominent African leaders and thinkers in liberating the continent from colonialism and propagating an African-centred philosophy. Among those who captured my interest are:
1. Dr Nnamdi Azikiwe (Zik): Many don’t know that the great Kwame Nkrumah of Ghana admired Zik in his early days as a freedom fighter. Zik is often referred to as the father of African independence due to his impeccable nationalist contributions in Nigeria and beyond.
2. Félix Houphouët-Boigny of Ivory Coast: He played a crucial role in decolonisation policy in West Africa as a parliamentarian in Paris.
3. Julius Nyerere: His Ujamaa socialism, rooted in African traditional values and philosophy, stood out as a unique model of African governance.
4. Marcus Garvey: A prominent Pan-Africanist whose civil rights activism and ideological contributions—including the Pan-African flag design—symbolise unity and shared heritage among people of African descent.
Furthermore, the book explores the contributions of African literati in the struggle for the continent’s voice to be heard globally. These writers engaged with themes such as imperialism, racism, gender inequality, independence, and colonialism—all from an African perspective.
Most significantly, Achebe offers a detailed and unbiased account of the thirty-month Biafra war, substantiated by local and international records. Among the many narratives I’ve encountered about the war, There Was a Country remains, in my view, the most comprehensive and compelling.
The author presents two prominent military commanders – General Chukwuemeka Odumegwu Ojukwu, known as the Aristocrat (Biafra), and General Yakubu Gowon, known as the Gentleman General (Nigeria). The secession of Biafra, Achebe says, was a cry that was necessitated by the preservation of Igbo lives threatened in Nigeria. This perspective is supported by General Ibrahim Babangida’s book, A Journey in Service, where it is written that Ojukwu made his decision in concern to save his people from systematic violence and mere threats of survival, especially after the pogroms of 1966, when over 30,000 Igbos were murdered.
Of note is the Aburi Accord—a deal between Biafran and Nigerian leadership signed in Ghana that was capable of preventing the war. According to Achebe and other histories of the civil war, the inability of the Nigerian government to implement decisions, combined with the polarising Decree 8, stirred the eventual outbreak of violence.
Achebe isn’t afraid to describe the war as being genocidal, particularly under the economic suffocation that was being applied by the Nigerian government. He says: “…Gowon had succeeded in cutting Biafra off from the sea, robbing its inhabitants of shipping ports to receive military and humanitarian supplies… Some estimates are over a thousand Biafrans a day were perishing by this time, and at the height of Gowon’s economic blockade and ‘starve them to submission’ policy…” (Achebe, p. 210)
Dan Jacobs’ The Brutality of Nations, quoted in There Was a Country (p. 230), declares: “One word now describes the policy of the Nigerian military government towards secessionist Biafra: genocide… Nigeria’s decision to stop the International Committee of the Red Cross and other relief agencies from flying food to Biafra.”
Foreign interventions also shaped the war. The British government under Harold Wilson armed the Nigerian military due to economic interests, despite opposition from many Britons. Biafra, on the other hand, received arms from China and the Czech Republic. African countries like Gabon, Ivory Coast, Zambia, and Tanzania openly recognised Biafra. Western writers such as Kurt Vonnegut, Herbert Gold, Harvey Swados, and others are also acknowledged for their advocacy.
I must confess that Achebe did justice to the “apples of discord” in There Was a Country. The book remains a powerful eye-opener on the dangers of war, bad leadership, and unaddressed political grievances.
A Mirror to the Present
Achebe’s autobiography is not just a history—it is a mirror held to our times. The war may be over, but the Biafran spirit of resistance lives on. Ethnic and regional tensions remain unresolved. Take, for instance, the agitations of Sunday Igboho and Yoruba Nation activists, or the pre-2023 election threats to boycott the polls in the South-west. These are symptoms of a deep, ongoing crisis of national unity.
And yet Yoruba protests are not an isolated incident. In the South-east, the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB) insists on the actualisation of an independent state of Biafra, the same as the very reasons Achebe chronicled—marginalisation, insecurity, and exclusion. In the South-south, militant organisations like the Niger Delta Avengers have, at some point or another, insisted on the Niger Delta’s independence as an oil-producing region based on exploitation and ecological degradation. Even in the Middle Belt, some ethnic minorities have called for self-determination from the Hausa-Fulani-dominated North on grounds of cultural annihilation and increased insecurity. In the far North-east, groups such as Boko Haram and ISWAP reject the Nigerian state in its entirety and want to establish an Islamic caliphate.
These various agitations highlight Achebe’s central warning: that when leadership fails and dialogue is dismissed, fragmentation follows. Sadly, the Nigerian political elite continues to pretend that all is well, while the very foundations of national integration remain shaky.
Conclusion
The Nigerian Civil War may have ended, but the Biafran dream remains alive in many hearts. Ethnic, religious, and political agitations today serve as loud reminders that all is not well. Whether it’s IPOB in the East, Yoruba Nation in the West, or militancy in the South-south, the message is the same: unresolved grievances will always find new forms of expression.
It is imperative that the Nigerian government return to the roundtable with sincerity and political will to address the many integration challenges threatening the nation’s unity.
And to the present-day African leaders: is the Africa we have today the vision our forefathers fought and died for—free from colonialism, imperialism, and racism? Or have we merely replaced foreign oppression with local misrule?
* Chinedu Vincent Okoro is a Rotarian, poet, educator and advocate for social change and mental health. He writes from Abuja, Nigeria.
