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Mrs.
Oyibo Odinamadu,
Prof. Chinua Achebe
Mrs. Oyibo Odinamadu
About Obi Nwakanma Obi
Nwakanma was educated at the The Interview _______________________________ ON: Can you tell us a
something about yourself; give us a broad picture of Oyibo Odinamadu? OO: My maiden name is Oyiboka Ekwulo Akwuba. I am the second daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Ekemezie
Akwuba of Awkuzu in Oyi Local Government Area. I am one of nine children in the family. And I did my early education
at Awkuzu… ON: What does Oyiboka
actually mean? OO: (laughs) My father just appreciated
Mrs. Oyibo Odinamadu
I started teaching in 1943 up until 1946, probably 1947. But during the
Christmas holidays of 1946, I met Dr. Nwafor Orizu with my sister. Actually, we were on our way to ON: From Port-Harcourt? OO: From ON: One month? OO: Yes. And we stopped at every port. We stopped at Takoradi, at ON: You saw only sky and
water for twenty-eight days! OO: The sky… and, sometimes, for a day or two, land while we sailed from one West African port to another,
until we got to Dakar. It took us twelve days to the ON: Your description of
seeing only water and the sky reminds me of Charles Johnson’s experience in the novel, The Middle Passage. The depiction
of the movement of Africans across the sea and into slavery; except that in your particular case, in the 1940s,
you were going for what was then called the “golden fleece.” Did you ever contemplate the conditions of those captive
Africans as you were crossing the OO: Yes! We thought about it, because we had done some history of Advertise here
Abroad, we wrote letters, and if you received a reply in three months
it was considered fast. Whenever a letter arrived, there was jubilation, and everyone came to hear the news from
home; even if it was very stale news (laughs). Yes, that was how we made it. And when I got to the ON: So you were quite
anxious to go home? OO: I was very anxious to go home, yes. And it was a big thing, then; everyone wanted to go home. Nowadays,
people want to settle down abroad or stay for a long as possible. ON: A paradox, isn’t it?
Give us an idea of what it was like to be in the United States as an African student, in the 1940s and early ‘50s. OO: We were the next crop of students after Zik, the Nwafor Orizus, Mbadiwes, Nkrumahs, and so on.
Nwafor Orizu arranged my scholarship; mine was the next group of scholars after them. Okala was here when we arrived…the
late Professor JBC Okala; he had been in the US for quite sometime when we arrived. At Columbia I took some courses
with him; it was a very challenging time. Everything was so new and different, but you had to get used to the society,
and carry on with your educational program. Some people were very friendly, and treated you with respect; some
treated you with distance. Not all black people were friendly… ON: So you had some resistance
even among blacks at the time? OO: Yes, there was some resistance. But that brought us, the African students rather close together.
We certainly felt more affinity with each other. ON: How many of your Nigerian
contemporaries do you remember as students in the US, at the time? OO: Oh, there were many of us; though, unfortunately some are gone. There was Lebuwa Nwozo, who became
a doctor; she’s passed away now. Agnes Ada Obi was Dr. Nwafor Orizu’s niece. There was also Lily Ada Ulasi, who later worked at Daily Times. There
was Ada Mere, who was at UNN; Uzoamaka was the first to die, she was diabetic. And then among the men, there was
Chukwuemeka Eboh, from Onitsha who later taught at UNN. Okagbue also taught at UNN. Kanu Orizu was Nwafor-Orizu’s
brother; he’s also dead; Alec Njaka, dead…there were so many of them. There was Babs Fafunwa, and the late Sam
Ojo, Fafunwa’s very good friend. There was MCK Ajuluchukwu… Life was very
Mrs. Oyibo Odinamadu
When I was at graduate school at Columbia University, I worked in the
morning, and from 2:30 or 3:00 pm, I went to school. I was able to earn enough money to take care of myself. Eventually,
the Nigerian government set up a liaison office in the US, and that was in Washington DC. One European, a Reginald
Barrett--very nice man--was the first liaison officer. We later organized the West African Students Union, championed
by Taylor Blyden, Edward Blyden’s grandson. He was a student at the time also; at Howard University, I think. We
had the Conference at Howard, and had the opportunity to meet Mr. Barret. He helped us, especially, you know, those
who owed school fees, and all that. ON: You studied in the
US during the Jim Crow era… OO: Yes, the era of Jim Crow. In fact, even though I went to school in the North, which was assumed
liberal, there were places blacks opted not to travel to. Even Washington DC, at the time, was a no-go area, as
well as West Virginia; Virginia down to Maryland, Tennessee, Alabama, Georgia, Texas, Florida and so on…Arkansas...ah!
Terrible place! These were notoriously Jim Crow areas. In the bus, you had to ride at the back, on a certain side
of the bus, which I refused to do. I told them, no; that place would churn my stomach, and I would get sick. So
anytime I came on a bus, I would ride in front, or at least, not below the middle of the bus. And I got into trouble.
Oh yes! Because the bus drivers would tell you that you had to go to the back. And I would say, no, I won’t go
to the back. After all, I paid the same fare like everyone else, and I had the right to choose where I wanted to
sit. ON: What gave you that
courage? OO: Well, because although I knew they had the segregation laws, I just refused to do it. And most
of the time, they’d just leave the whole seat for me. Nobody else would like to sit nearby. It was everywhere.
To go to the bathroom, I liked to travel by Greyhound bus. When they made their stops at the depots, and you wanted
to go to the bathroom--the ones that you dropped coins into to operate --sometimes, the women cleaners would refuse
to let you use it. They’d direct you to an unclean bathroom stall. If you went to the restaurant, they would not
serve you; they’d tell you to sit on the side that had dirty, broken chairs. Once, I sat on the good side of one
of these restaurants, and a steward came to me, and said: “ma’am, you have to go over to the other side,” and I
asked, “Why?” He said, “Because that’s how it is…there’s where you gotta sit.” I told him I wouldn’t go there,
that I wanted to stay where I was. And he said, “If you sit here, I won’t serve you.” And I said, “Oh well, that’s
your call. But, in my country, we would never think to treat people this way. ON: Did your being an
African have anything to do with your defiance? It seems you got away with quite a lot. OO: (laughs) I should think so. They heard my accent, and knew that I wasn’t American. I’m Igbo you
see…talking about defiance... But I suppose that made them leave me alone. If I sounded American, they might have
treated me otherwise. It wasn’t too much for them to lynch the person. Those were still the days of automatic lynching. ON: Did you witness any
lynching? OO: Oh yes! There was a lot of lynching that was going on; any little thing, at all, they’d lynch people.
The KKK, the Ku Klux Klan, was very strong and very much in operation. When I was in Clafflin College in South
Carolina, we’d be in our hostel, and at night, we’d hear the chanting of the KKK. Sometimes, you’d peep out through
the window, and you’d see their burning cross flaming in the night, from their temple. They’d go on through out
the night, and we’d say, “Ah, these people are going to lynch somebody tonight!” And in the morning, you heard
that they’d abducted two young men…two African-American men, and lynched them. Black people would just get lost
like that, and nobody would ask about them, nothing would be done. They would never be seen again. Nobody gave
account, and their families would just weep and suffer, and that would be the end of it. ON: Things have come a long way, then? OO: Things have changed dramatically, yes; even though there are still vestiges. But there has been
some change. There’s the case of a man who had masterminded the lynching of three young men doing voter education
and registration in Mississippi, and had bee tried and vindicated in the fifties. He was supposed to be a minister
of God, in the church. He had dug a grave, abducted these people, killed them, and pushed them into this mass grave,
and then covered it. There was not a whimper in the area where this had happened. The relations of the people killed,
protested, but nothing happened, until very recently when the man was brought to justice. He is quite old. He was
sentenced to life, and is in prison now. ON: You returned to Nigeria
in 1953… OO: I returned in ’53, yes; the year I completed my Master’s Degree. ON: You were the first
Igbo female University graduate. OO: I, in fact, learned that not only am I the first Igbo woman, but the first woman of Eastern Nigerian
origin, to have earned a University degree. I was also the first with a graduate degree. When I graduated, I immediately
went home; there was no waiting. My parents were at home; my entire family. I hadn’t seen them for years. By then,
as I said, people were anxious to go home, then. ON: How does the Nigeria
you returned to from the United States in 1953, compare with the present. What was it that drew you back to Nigeria;
did you have any particular expectation? OO: What drew me back to Nigeria was, firstly, I wanted to go back to see my family. Secondly, I wanted
to go home and serve my people. Being one of the first few women to have the opportunity for higher education abroad,
I wanted see how I could use what I had gained for my people. I was teaching in the primary school before I left
for the United States. I wanted to return home, and do whatever I could to improve the situation there; perhaps,
teach at a higher level. In addition, I just needed to be home. There was a certain urge and inclination to be
at home, because I was raised in the village (laughs). I like I like village people; I love village life, even
though there was no running water, no electricity, at the time. There were no paved roads, just some paths going
into the village--there was only one motorable road from Oye-agu junction to Otuocha… ON: You mentioned the
fact that Nigerians who go to Universities abroad right now are not returning home. Nigeria in 1953 was less developed,
and offered fewer opportunities; yet you returned home immediately after your studies. What do you think is the
problem today? OO: Well…I don’t think the problem is that our people don’t like home anymore. But the policies and
the way the government operates at home is no longer attractive to people. The major thing is that the way the
government operates, the tone of the society right now, is not as attractive as it should be. ON: Can you give me a
sense of Nigeria in 1953. OO: Well, when I returned -- I really retuned home on the first day of January 1954 --
As it turned out, it was one of the best Christmases in my life. I met
a number of other Nigerians, and we really enjoyed the ride. Justice Chukwudifu Oputa -- at the time, he was a
bright young lawyer -- was coming back from London with his wife; there was Dr. Ademola, the Sierra Leonean brother
to the late Justice Adetokumbo Ademola; with his wife, Folarin Coker. He was later a permanent Secretary. There
was Omobola Coker; her father was a Reverend, and Maimalari, who was killed during the January 15, 1966 coup…we
were all on board. We had a great time. I was then a younger and very agile woman. I liked to play table tennis,
and I would beat all of them! (laughs) So when I arrived at the Apapa wharf, and saw all the Awkuzu people and
their friends who lived in Lagos, and turned out to meet me, it was incredible! But that was a small matter compared
to what awaited me at home in the village. When I got home…I flew from Lagos to Enugu, and was met by my younger
sister who lived there with her husband and family. We then continued home to the village a few days later. We
had sent word home that we were on our way; my brother gave us his car, and we went to the market and bought a
few things. We left Enugu –it was the old road – we left about three o’clock, thinking we would be arriving about
5:00pm, and I’d just go in and rest. But I couldn’t believe it when we got to the Abagana junction on the road
to Otuocha, and
the crowd of people there…the crowd…the number of Ijele drums; I’d never seen such a crowd of people in my life!
They had come to receive me…their daughter who had gone abroad to study, and returned. I was very surprised, indeed.
My father was the kind of person who never wasted time on anything. If he wanted to do something, it was quick,
quick, quick, ahead of time, early; I don’t know how he managed to instantly organize such a reception. The church
group was there, the village was all there. The Umunna was there, everybody, waiting. My goodness! That was how
people received those returning in those days. You had gone for the Golden Fleece, and were back in one piece. ON: Aside from the novelty,
what changed in the ideas and ways of people? OO: What had changed was the ways of the people who were managing the affairs of government. Mark you--I
experienced a great deal of discrimination when I returned. I wanted a job in the ministry of education having
qualified in Education. However, I was refused a job. For six months I was just sitting around, walking around
with no job. ON: Why? OO: Why? Because I had an American education. The British authorities would not give me a job, because
they claimed that American education was inferior; it was no education. My Master’s degree was equated to the British
first degree. I asked, why? The schools I attended in the US, the largest population were the Americans; however,
the next largest population of students was British. What were they doing there, I asked, if American education
was inferior to British education? While we were in the same classes, and taking the same courses, were they receiving
a different kind of education? And when they got to England they were given good jobs. Quinn-Young was the British
director of education of the Eastern region, in Enugu then. The man refused to give me a job! I finally got a job as Assistant Secretary in the Eastern Nigerian Development
Corporation. E.O. Eyo of Uyo was chairman of the board, then. They had advertised for a job, and I was employed
as Assistant Secretary. I was in that job for three years, and then switched to Education. By then they had raised
the question in the Eastern House of Assembly as to why I was not employed in the service. I suffered this discrimination
along with Dr. Udokwu, who later founded the Nike Grammar School. He came home with a doctorate degree, but they
wouldn’t give him a job…in his own country!!! However, when Nigerians took charge of the government in 1954, things
improved so much, and went so well that they began sending people to the US to recruit graduates to come home and
help in nation building, and so on. The government had broad and ambitious programs, and they needed people. Some
came home, and were immediately recruited. Then all of a sudden, everything changed. ON: When did things change;
can you begin to map the shifts? OO: Things began to change just before the war. It began with the Federal government that was no longer
receptive to everyone. It wasn’t a uniform policy that was being applied in the employment policy; there was increasing
discrimination. People returned home, and could no longer find jobs even when the jobs existed. Even people who
qualified in Nigeria--because the universities were producing people at Ibadan and the University of Nigeria, Nsukka--employment
became difficult and scarce. ON: So, you returned in
1953, and basically took a job as Assistant Development officer. What did you do as Assistant Secretary, ENDC,
and what was the ENDC all about? OO: The Development Corporation was involved in Agricultural development, small scale, cottage industrial
development, and so on. We were developing plantations, palm plantations, cashew plantations, rubber plantations
and so forth. The cashew plantations at Oghe and Okigwe, for instance, produced nuts for consumption, as well as
certain kinds of oil for use in the production of plastics and things like that. We were going into villages to
find areas to set up pioneer oil mills for palm oil production. We coordinated extention services for the ministry
of Agriculture; at the time I was basically involved in setting up the structure for the Development Corporation,
taking minutes of the board meetings; establishing personnel services, setting up interviews. For instance, you
know that I employed Bob Ogbuagu as Public Relations Officer for the ENDC? So that’s what we did in the ENDC. ON: Give me a sense of
what the Civil Service was like in your time. OO: The civil service was a cohesive body where there was great inter-departmental cooperation. The
Eastern Region had a solid civil service. There wasn’t so much animosity and in-fighting; at least, I didn’t observe
it. I got on well with my colleagues and we worked well, we cooperated well. Government had a series of development
plans: ten years, five years, two years as the case might be. Every department – they were not called ministries
then, ministries came later – each department had their own schedule, or program. Revenue was strategically apportioned,
based on well-thought out plans: the number of schools to be set up, teachers to be employed, and materials to
be procured. It was based on cooperation, for instance, in education, between the voluntary agencies, which were
mostly missions and the individuals who set up schools, and the government. Government would give grants in aid, or assistance, and
the voluntary agencies would do the rest. The Government established the inspectorate to enforce standards. Things
just worked well. Every year, we planned that more children would be able to attend school. The development programs
and projects were running, and so much was achieved. At the time, there was no petroleum oil; it was palm produce
in the East, groundnuts in the North, and cocoa and rubber in the West. And enough money was produced to run the budgets, and was saved, as well;
it was out of the palm produce – they set up marketing boards for produce – it was out of the palm produce that
the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, was built, that the Otu-Onitsha, the Onitsha market – the first modern market
complex in West Africa - was built with Five Hundred thousand Pounds; at the time, a big achievement. It was from
the produce that the Trans-Amadi industrial estate was built, and so on. So, government had plans and projects,
and fully executed them. People were overwhelmingly honest in their jobs, satisfied with what they were being paid.
There was not much fraud and embezzlement, making away with government resources for their own pockets. The projects
were carried on with the resources available, and so people were happy and did their jobs well. With petroleum
oil, came the oil boom or oil doom, as the case may be, and hence the decline of Nigeria. ON: So you worked with
the Eastern regional government all through. When did you leave the civil service? OO: Ukpabi Asika made me leave the civil service. ON: Really; when was this? OO: 1971. ON: We’ll come back to
this; but from 1954 to 1971, you worked with Azikiwe, under Okpara… OO: Under Azikiwe, under Okpara…it was Dr. Okpara who was in government when the 1966 crisis happened.
Dr. Okpara was the premier, and I later worked with Ojukwu. ON: And after the war,
you worked with Asika? OO: Yes, after the war I worked with Asika. I had been a classroom teacher at the Women Training College,
Enugu. First of all, I worked in the ministry of education, then WTC Enugu from 1960-62. In 1963, I became the
principal of the WTC Enugu. I went back to the ministry of Education as Inspector of Education, inspecting schools;
primary schools and secondary schools; measuring performance, and what quality of education of education was being
received; I evaluated teachers, materials, and so on. I then became Director in charge of examinations and Teachers
registration in the ministry of education. I did that until the war in 1967. I was the one who evacuated the materials
and all the records of the exams branch, and so on, which we carried to Umuahia. That was where we were told to
go. We went to Umuahia, and then returned to Owerri, and down to Ihiala area. When the war ended, we carried the
whole thing back to Enugu. ON: You kept all the records? OO: We kept all the records of
Mrs. Oyibo Odinamadu
In any case, I cleaned up Queens School and readmitted students. I also
supervised the first in-take of students after the war; both the higher and beginner classes. Recently, when I
was in hospital in North Carolina -- at the Wake Medical Center -- my blood count continued to drop after I underwent
surgery; from 11 points to 9 points. The hospital was worried. I was in the room receiving attention, when a nurse
rushed into the room; she had seen my name on the notice board that was hung outside in the ward lobby. She asked
me: “Are you Oyibo Odinamadu?” I said “Yes,” and she jumped on me, hugged me, and shouted, “This is my principal!
This is my principal! This woman was my principal!!” The nurse was one of the first students that I admitted to
Queens School in 1970. She remembered even the question I asked her at the interview (laughs), and that one of
her cousins had not gained admission… ON: It must have made
you very happy. OO: Oh yes (laughs). Everybody then knew at Wake Med that I was their colleague’s principal in high
school (points)…she gave me that plant (laughs)! So, that was how we cleaned up Queen School, and started a rigorous
discipline; that was how I knew things should be done. But those girls who had grown wild in the war would not
tolerate it (chuckles). And their godfathers, the military officers, were lurking in the background. And again,
one thing I did was that I wouldn’t allow them observe frivolous holidays. I would tell my students that they must
come to school, we were not going to observe so and so holidays. It was the same with George Akabogu. Asika didn’t
like this; Akabogu was at the Institute of Administration, Enugu, temporarily running his Government College, Afikpo
from there before it was fully re-opened. By the way, George is dead (sighs). Anyway, my insistence on discipline
was resisted. But
it was the role I played during the war; I really entered the Biafran war with Biafran women, in a big way. You
know, I led a delegation to the Queen of England. ON: You worked with Zik,
Okpara, Ojukwu, and Asika. What were these men like; how would you compare them? OO: Zik was the intellectual, an orator, and full of ideas. He was a theoretician, Zik. He wasn’t much
of a practical man. He didn’t get down to brass tacks; in the Eastern House of Assembly, Zik would get up and speak
for the entire day and the following day write in newspapers. It was when Dr. Okpara became the premier…Dr. Okpara
undertook the economic tour, because my husband was Secretary to the Premier, and they took a world tour to Israel, to Singapore, to
many places. It was to Israel that they went, and they were very well received. They came with ideas for projects
and appeals for technical and financial assistance. That was when the Hotel Presidential in Enugu and Port-Harcourt
were built, and the Nkalagu Cement factory, as well. The roads were built, the water works Enugu was built, and
there was water supply everywhere! Dr. Okpara brought so many projects with his world economic tour. His
slogan was to tell the people that we are a nation in a hurry, and that we are a deprived people who wanted to
catch up with the most advanced in the world. We needed help in nation-building. And they came, so many Israeli
engineers and technical assistants; so many of them doing the job. So, during the time of Dr. Okpara and Dr. Akanu
Ibiam, we saw a great deal of innovation. The Calabar cement factory was built at the time, and there was so much
improvement in the region; life was progressing. Then the coup happened, and everything broke down, the war started.
During the military government, Emeka tried to safe-guard what belonged to the government that he felt certain
people were trying to appropriate… ON: You mean Emeka Ojukwu,
of course… OO: Yes, Emeka Ojukwu. And then it was all about how people felt about the treatment the Igbo were getting; the massacres in the North, the return of the maimed, the headless onye-ije, and so on. People were not happy at all. 30,000 people were killed, and pamphlets were published at the ministry of information – it was my husband as the permanent secretary, and Cyprian Ekwensi as the Director of Information – about the pogrom. The pamphlets narrated everything; how it happened; how the Igbo were killed and massacred, and of course the British government would not listen; they didn’t think 30,000 was anything; there was no genocide as far as they were concerned, and so on. So the Igbo and other Easterners were just coming home from all over Nigeria, and it became a question of what would | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
