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Tears Flow As Disabled Ex-Biafran Soldiers Tell Their Stories of Neglect

Vanguard (Lagos)
NEWS
June 19, 2004
Posted to the web June 21, 2004

By Stan Okeke
Enugu
THEY see, hear and know little about present-day Nigeria. Inside their
settlement at Oji River in Enugu State, they do not have much access to all the
information sources available to other dwellers in the big cities. And even if
they do, it is doubtful if they have great enthusiasm and appetite for such
topical issues that command headline attention in the country today.
They have their huge personal problems that obviously weigh them down. They are
sad that the people they sacrificed their lives to defend during the civil war
have all abandoned them to their fate.
And confined to their wheelchairs with a hopeless future for them and their
families, what they see of normal Nigerians and their affluence is when they
line up the Enugu-Onitsha expressway, soliciting for alms. The day mother luck
smiles on them, some anonymous kind-hearted Nigerians would stop by and give
them money.
Few other rich Igbo sons also pull up occasionally to give their token. But
this notwithstanding, any visitor could notice from their speech and gestures
that they genuinely feel abandoned by their kit and kin whom they sacrificed
their limbs and happiness to protect and defend in their most difficult and
agonising moments.
Welcome to Oji River, the home of the disabled ex-Biafran soldiers, men who
lost their legs to the 30-month Nigerian civil war. The war ended some 34 years
ago but these wounded ex-soldiers, today, remain the sad reminders of the
unfortunate fratricide. They live with their wives and children at
the War Veterans Camp but their only source of livelihood is whatever alms they
get on the Enugu-Onitsha expressway.
But why would the five South-East governors not pull resources together to
empower these people who became limbless while fighting to defend the people
they rule over today? Why have other wealthy Igbo sons not deemed it worthwhile
to find permanent solution to the needs of these wounded ex-soldiers? How do
the governors and the rich feel when they see them on their wheelchairs as they
zoom past in their expensive cars whose prices can actually take care of the
poor men's troubles? Why has the Federal Government not redeemed its numerous
pledges to the disabled if, indeed, the civil war provided "no victor, no
vanquished?" What future is there for their children?
Questions similar to the above kept tumbling from this reporter on this day.
But the answers were not forthcoming. "I don't think we're the ones who should
answer," was all that Mr. Bartholomew Ezeisi, chairman of War Disabled ex-
Biafran Soldiers said. "At least, we should not speak for them. Maybe, you have
to ask those you just mentioned their names. For us, we've resigned ourselves
to fate. We rely on God and other kind people who come to our assistance."
May 13, 2004 was one such happy day in their camp. According to Mr. Joseph
Akani, secretary of the ex-soldiers, there was every reason to celebrate and
thank Ikechukwu Udechime, a Nigerian based in Finland. This day, Mr. Udechime
brought 20 wheelchairs to the disabled soldiers and even Mr. Eddie Chukwurah,
the managing director of a popular hangout in Enugu who provided food and
drinks to the ex-soldiers on this day, could not hold back tears.
But rather than celebrate, the occasion brought more tears than cheers. As
Udechime and other dignitaries made their speeches one after the other, most of
the people betrayed emotions. The high point was when three children of these
disabled soldiers, Chinaza Nwodo, Chidiebere Njoku and Ifeanyi Njoku came back
from school, saw what was happening and burst into tears.
"Help us to beg government to assist our fathers," a tearful Nwodo told Weekend
Vanguard. "Please, let them help our fathers. You see they cannot do anything
because of their situation. That is the only way they can send us to school."
It was such an emotional scene.
Udechime who worked as a journalist with Radio Nigeria Enugu before travelling
to Finland told the story of the 20 wheelchairs. According to him, it was an
effort that came by chance through the activities of his colleague and a female
journalist from Finland who visited Nigeria and did some feature articles. One
of the articles was on the children of Biafra. Her mother had told her that the
children in Biafra she saw had no food to eat. So, she came searching for these
children. She came to Nigeria and did a lot of interviews with all kinds of
people, including the ex-Biafran soldiers, their children and wives.
"By the way, this lady's name is Chathy Urous," Udechime started. "When she got
back to Finland, she wrote an article and when I saw it, I was moved and I
called the newspaper and said I would love to speak with her. We spoke and
arranged a meeting. During our discussion, the issue of wheelchairs came up
because she said that these distinguished men (disabled war veterans) had
problems of movement because their wheelchairs were old and many were no more
functioning. Somehow, she didn't know how to go about it.
"Being somebody who has worked with different non-profit organisations in
Finland, I knew exactly what kind of place this could be found, and I gave her
tapes. A few days later, she told me she found some wheelchairs but the problem
was how to bring them over to Nigeria.
"Coincidentally, I was working on a different project that had to do with women
empowerment through media. So, we were trying to set up a community media
centre and radio station here in Nigeria as an initiative for community radio.
We were then collecting equipment required for this project. So, I said to her
that if she found the wheelchairs, we have the means of bringing them down to
Nigeria. This was how it all happened and we sourced the wheelchairs and then
with the other equipment we needed for the radio project, we packed them all in
a container and brought them all here. That's just the story."
He was so happy to have touched the lives of the people who fought the Nigerian
civil war. "I feel so fulfilled in the sense that this is the kind of thing
I've been dreaming of doing. It gives me joy." By this time, even Udechime was
all tears.
But whatever joy that heralded the presentation was shortlived because as soon
as the inmates began to bare their minds, the mood became very ugly. Mr.
Anthony Ozoji cut a picture of a man in perpetual agony. He was, undoubtedly,
the youngest of the lot in the rehabilitation camp. He said he was between 13
to 14 years old when the war broke out in 1967, and was in the arm of the
Biafran army known as the Boys' Company.
"I was a little boy then. I was always in the company of our soldiers. Whatever
they asked me to bring, I brought. This injury happened to me during an enemy
air raid. I was sent to buy something at the market. What caused my problem was
that the enemy bomb hit me as the federal forces bombed the busy market where
men, women and innocent children were buying and selling different things. With
nobody to help me, I found myself here."
Tony Uzoji recollects that it was the administration of Ukpabi Asika of the
then East Central State that rendered some help. This was soon after the civil
war. "We're appealing to government to help us. We're all in hell here. Look at
our wheelchairs. But I thank this young man that made it possible for us to get
these new wheelchairs. It is God that will reward him. You can see our
predicament here. If the (federal) government has actually put the war behind
us, let those in authority come to our rescue."
Mr. Bartholomew Ezeisi, chairman of the wounded former soldiers has lived in
the rehabilitation camp at Oji River since 1975. He tells the story of how he
sustained the injury that has consigned him to a wheelchair forever. According
to him, they were initially at Enugu soon after the civil war in 1970. They
stayed there for five years and were later sent to the Oji River Rehabilitation
Centre. His disability was caused by a bullet wound on his stomach that
paralysed his lower limb.
Where did you sustain the injury?
At Nkpor junction in 1968. I was at 11 Battalion and our commander then was Lt.
Col. Agbogu. I operated the Biafran armoured car.
What happened on this day?
What happened was that first of all, any day we woke up and found ourselves
alive, as Ojukwu's brave soldiers, we knew that day was another day of action
and we must exhibit our bravery. Like I told you, I operated the Biafran
armoured car. I went to the Republic of Benin (that's how he referred to Benin
City, the Edo State capital) in 1967. My armoured car was badly hit but I
bravely returned it to our territory. My commander had so much confidence in
me.
"My armoured car was grounded but he didn't want me to leave his command. Haa!
Agbogu, he kept me in case another armoured car was bought or captured from the
enemy. None was forthcoming.
So, he sent me to a mortar course, and thereafter, I started manning our mortar
gun. We were the ones who hit that Nigerian Army convoy at Abagana. Let me not
say that I hit it. It was a collective effort. "During that time, once you woke
up alive, you would thank God. The spirit then was that you were defending your
fatherland and that you were not committing any crime other than defending your
life, the lives of your family members and the lives of your people. That is
why it hurts me that our young governors have abandoned us. But why? Were we
fighting for ourselves? Do they know if all of them would have been alive today
if we didn't do what we did?
Eventually, we started the Nkpor battle. The day I sustained this injury, I had
a premonition but I didn't know it would be like this. When the battle got
tough, Lt. Col. Agbogu would always look for me. I would then go and break the
enemy resistance and we would move on. I never knew or felt any fear that you
could be hit by a bullet and you would die. Man die go. We never knew that you
could be hit by bullet and be paralysed. That was it. So, the Nkpor battle was
fierce. It was terrible.
Even the Nigerian soldiers knew that. It was a great battle. We were a hard nut
to crack. They saw hell. The battle for them was to enter Onitsha, a mere
distance of four miles from Nkpor. They couldn't penetrate. President Olusegun
Obasanjo knew. Ask him. The late Murtala Mohammed knew. Black Scorpion
(Adekunle) knew. We fought a great battle, so much that the Nigerian soldiers
became depressed. Most times, we chased them back as far as Ogidi and Awka.
War is not good. It is a terrible thing. We can never finish the story of that
war. God forbid anything that will cause war in Nigeria again. Our children
suffered. When we saw them during the war, we would vow to go to the war front
and die. It was with such anger that we always went to the war front.
Are you here with your family?
Yes, I married in 1967. I have five children. One died. I presently have four
boys and one girl. I had one here in 1980, disability or no disability. These
kids have been suffering. It is their fate that makes our hearts to bleed. As a
father, it feels so bad to see your children in need of things you cannot
provide. At times, you feel like standing up to go and look for ways to help.
But where are the legs?
Unfortunately, government is not assisting us. One of my children has dropped
out of school because I cannot continue to see him through school. It is the
same for other fathers here.
There's no way my child would drop from school if I had my limbs intact. Other
children are doing fine but ours whom their fathers fought for the lives of our
people are suffering. They (our children) feel very bad about it but we try to
comfort them. They ask questions and you don't want to believe that your people
(Ndigbo) abandoned you. But as they grow up, they know the truth. They can't
even have decent meals. We've had promises before that were never fulfilled.
Now, we look up to God. If help comes, fine. Otherwise, our children will have
to take over the troubles of training their younger ones when we die. That is
our story."
Akani, the secretary agrees completely. "We're not young any longer. We know
the time could come for any of us at any time. The worry is that you are
totally hopeless about how your children would live after you die. Right now,
they depend on whatever we get from the road (alms). It's from there we
struggle to feed them, to train them and to clothe them. Look at the way they
(children) look.
"It's as if we committed an offence before our people by fighting on the side
of Biafra. If the government would not do anything, you could at least say that
these were the people whom you fought against.
Maybe, they are still not happy. But what do you say of our own people? Or are
they not happy that we're alive?
"My brother, this is no time to talk for a long time. We've granted many
interviews to both Nigerian and international media. But have our people cared?
Did these wheelchairs not come from Finland? Did we fight to protect the people
of Finland? Bye. May God never allow you to taste what we go through here." As
more people began to cry at this stage, it was quite impossible to say "Amen"
to that prayer.

   

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