Mathematics classes and how they made us rich

 EVERY NIGERIAN PARENT or anyone who plans to have kids, should read this.

If parents of the 80’s had seen the future back then, they would have sent their kids to skill acquisition or talent grooming centres every long vacation, instead of hiring private lesson teachers to coach them on Mathematics, Quantitative Reasoning and all the nonsense that neither put a dime into anyone's pockets nor distinguished them. 

When I was young, my parents and their friends would sit and discuss about their kids, of how excellent they were at mathematics and stuff. My parents always complained on how I was good at every other subject but Mathematics. Their hearts were quite heavy concerning me and Math.

Meanwhile, I was a wizard technician who repaired EVERY single Electronics in the house and rectified every electrical fault, even faults electricians got paid to solve, but never brought a lasting solution. They initially didn't trust my expertise, until I repaired our VHS machine. That was the day my dad appointed me his "technical adviser".

I also constructed a T.V antenna with a very wonderful reception, when a violent storm damaged ours; fabricated a table fan, and even a doorbell, just with my knowledge of basic Physics. All of these things intrigued them, especially my dad, yet they felt so bad I wasn't excelling at mathematics like other people's children. They were ready to PAY ANY AMOUNT just to have a good math coach who'll put me through and finally, this woman came along who made a killing profit from them!

But the real gifts in me were speaking up, and even screaming at them. I was good at drawing, painting and sculpting! My music gift also showed quite early. I formed my first orchestra at 10 with my siblings and other kids in the compound! I fabricated all the instruments; the flutes and different sizes of drums made from varying sizes of tins/buckets and used thick cellophane for vellum. I was also very fast at learning languages and different cultures too. They overlooked these and spent money on things I'll never need in the future.
Today, these areas have remained my areas of interest.

I look back today and feel much pity for them.

But their acts and desires for me were in line with the spirit of the 80s/90s era. What enrages me TODAY is that the modern parents ARE MAKING THE SAME MISTAKES!!!

Why would you send your kids to "summer lesson" where you pay for them to learn the SAME THINGS they'd learn when school resumes? How about devoting the holidays STRICTLY for football or taekwando/judo/karate coaching, vocal training and music lessons? They could even take speech lessons, learn to become public speakers!!! How about shoemaking or ANY KIND OF SKILL that your child is naturally inclined to? The world has gone past the "curricular" age! The rich and famous people of today are those who polished and utilised their skills. Why not bring in extra-curricular activities during the holidays and properly position your kids for a profitable future?

Jay Ikem Adichie,
 jayikemadic@gmail.com

This was piece was sent in by Jay, a very talented friend. His story describes the childhood and career path of so many of us. I’ll write mine soon and I pray that both writings will serve as an eye opener to parents out there. 

The change that will never come

The change that will never come
If it comes, who will welcome?
They struggle, they complain, they suffer
Your solution seems like a buffer
But the change that will never come
Because their doors are shut and cannot welcome
Their hearts are even sealed
The status quo seems mild
That one they can even hold
Not this change that promises gold
So they cower in fears
Even as their faces are covered in tears
Hearts torn in pain
By a status quo that has no gain

I do not understand this people
I do not understand their hustle
It doesn't even make sense, all of their struggle
How can they sleep on it?
How can they expect to change it?
When in helplessness they accept it
And now they want me to play the game
And to act dumb and lame

But these words are like fire in my bones
I cannot play by their rules
I stand on the roof tops and scream out
This system must phase out!
I sit on table and now the ink begins to flow
So the blood of my people will cease to flow
Let them stop flying in the air
Our people's lives are fizzling into the air
Let them sit
Let them count
And perhaps amend
And even bring an end
To this flow
And close up this hollow

But we must want it
For them to change it
And open our doors to welcome
This change that might one day come

Scriptwriter87@gmail.com
Twitter: @club7teen

IGBO LANGUAGE AND THE GIRLS WHO "FORM"

This is the story of a market woman, my story and a guy who said that girls "form" a lot. I just hope you understand what I mean by forming, especially if you are not a Nigerian. (By forming, we mean someone who is pretending to be what he's not.)

He was a banker and still is, I guess. He walked into the shop, I offered him seat and he rapped away on the benefits of banking with his institution. He spoke too much grammar. I politely asked him if he was Igbo. When he gave me a yes, I told him that we could also talk in Igbo, that it was completely okay with me. The young man replied me thus, permit me to itemize; "1. I saw your shop, very neat and well packaged. Walking in here, I knew this is not the place to speak Igbo.

2. You girls form a lot; when we guys talk to you in Igbo, you look down on us." I was speechless and so I asked him, "So, what am I? And, who is forming now? He smiled and continued;

3. " When I served in Akwaibom, you could hardly hear the locals speak anything other than Ibibio, even in their offices and market." To this I replied, "So they speak Ibibio even in their offices and yet you come to the market where you should assume that we are all market men and women who do not know how to speak English, until we prove otherwise, and you talk to me in English? Shame on us, abi? What happened to Igbo language?"

When he was done talking about the different accounts and their benefits, I said, "my name is Ijeoma, what's yours?" "Uche or Prince," he replied. I smiled. That identity issue, that discomfort many of us feel bearing our native names because we feel the English names are more polished. Oh yes, I know. I was once like that and now I'm paying the price. When I call some people with a number they aren't familiar with, it's so difficult to say who I am. I go "it's Vivian or Beulah or Ijeoma. Which one do you know me as?" But do not worry, I am healed. My name is Ijeoma, that's how I introduce me these days and I'm perfectly comfortable with the way it sounds and what it means. If you know me as Vivian, let your heart not be troubled, it's same ol' me.

Back to our story, what that guy said hit me on several levels. He said the shop was too organized and so he assumed he should not speak Igbo. Therefore, Igbo, my Igbo should be spoken in dirty and unorganized settings and places.

He said we girls pretend; that is actually not a lie. Maybe they aren’t pretending pretending, but severally I’ve encountered girls who respond to me in English when I’m asking talking to them in Igbo. And I will wonder, "What the hell is wrong with some of us girls? How does a language make you classy or not so much so that you deny your dialect?"

He told me about a people who are so proud of their language; they even speak it in official settings. Yet, he comes to the market, the most unofficial place I can think of and he talks to me in English. This means our language is losing its place in our lives- in our daily communications as seen between guys and girls, in our homes between mothers and their children, and now in the informal settings like markets and taxis. Shouldn't we worry?

I have a friend who doesn't have any English, French or German name. He has just Igbo names; I envy him. About those foreign names I have, I'm still thinking of what I will do with them. And to this friend I recounted the encounter I had with the banker and he said, "Do you see that you women have a lot of influence but you people don't know. The men know this but you people don't. Now, we are talking about a man who had learnt how to speak Igbo from home but who's now forced to speak English just to impress the girls" I was amazed at this perspective. You see, in this battle of restoring our language to its rightful place, the women would be instrumental: as mothers who the children spend their bulk of time with and from who the children(majorly) learn  the use of words and languages; and then as grown ladies whom the men speak to in English, just to impress them.

South Sudan women suggest sex strike as a solution to war

How powerful are we as women? This same friend reminded me of a story I shared with him a while ago. Over time in history, women have used sex strikes to achieve remarkable objectives in different societies. In 1600, Iroquois Women stopped unregulated warfare. In Liberia, the women ended the brutal civil war in 2003. It was the female partners of gang members of Pereira city of Columbia in 2006 who reduced violence and demanded civilian disarmament. In Kenya 2009, women stopped political fighting and brought about a stable government within week. Many more examples abound in history; all of these different women which included the wives, girlfriends and whores used sex strikes to achieve their objectives.

Am I suggesting a sex strike to end the dearth of our Igbo language? By all means, no. I'm only pointing out that we women are powerful. The men know this, but we don't and so many times we think we are the victims. And I hope we realize this power sooner and help to collectively change our societies for good.

Igbokwe Vivian Ijeoma

Scriptwriter87@gmail.com

Twitter/Instagram: @club7teen

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

(A Battle of the Sexes)

I wrote a poem on this same title and a friend reminded me that this was a line from Shakespeare's Hamlet. It's awesome that Shakespeare and I have been inspired to use same lines but believe me, we wrote on different themes.

We live in times very different from his. We live in a time of freedom of all sorts of things-belief, religion, speech, etc. However, so much less could be said to have been realized of this freedom by the African lady. We have been influenced a whole lot by foreign media, especially American movies. And so, we see Western girls live as they like; have multiple sex partners if they like, enjoy the right to this and that, make their money, foot their bills, divorce whenever and for whatever, become extreme feminists who say they don't need men, become lesbians openly and have children from broken homes, etc.. We all know the effects of divorce on the family system and children: Children who are depressed, who lack a basic sense of identity, who lack the balance that is gotten when raised by both parents, who become suicidal as a result of thinking that the parent who left didn't love them because they were deficient of some of sorts, and etc... This is hardly the focus of this discussion but worth mentioning because it gives a perspective.

The seemingly charming and liberated lives of our Western sisters have truly come at a huge price. Thus, their men are scared of committing to the ladies; all those rights they need to deal with, the cost of divorce and the possibility of landing in jail if the lady claims any sort of assault. We see men prefer to have kids with their girlfriends than marrying those ladies as wives. Feminists push more each day for this right and that right. The other day I read that a man could be fined for walking behind and trying to talk to a girl he likes; stalking it was called. That's a very different world from Africa. Most of us are in a relationship because a man who fancied us walked behind us, we did a little shakara, we stopped and then the small talk that was followed by a romantic relationship. Sometimes, the guy would drive slowly behind you and then you stop. In order cases, he may walk up to you when you are seated in a restaurant or cyber or just about anywhere.  I laughed at the possibility of a guy being arrested and fined for trying to woo me like that. But that is their world and all those rights that should have served as protection have turned out to become prisons, stopping them from experiencing deep loving commitment.  “Maybe the next level would be to create different states for women.”

We bring it down home. Women are sold in the name of bride price and become the properties of the men. So, the man determines what the women should wear and the length or type of clothe, whether she will have friends or not, who comes to stay or not, and in some cases he tells her to be a house wife. I've seen wives take permission from their husbands to do the smallest things. I would expect it to be a discussion between two adults who love themselves but you see the man refusing for no reason and the woman has no choice than to obey. In some families, sex is the man's prerogative and so the woman will get it whenever he feels like it. And if he feels like having an extramarital relationship, he does that while the good wife cleans the house and prays that God will change her husband's heart. The culture supports the man in all these. The man can never be wrong, hadn't he bought the woman? I hear things like, “nwanyi anaghi aka nwoke” meaning -the woman can never be greater than the man. This is despite her age or achievement. And so it's a battle; to be free like our Western sisters and also be free of loving and meaningful relationships or accept to be under men like the African culture suggests and enjoy a loving and quiet home?

Let me take things a little bit further. Before the marriage, we have courtships and relationships. Let's talk about relationship. The media is littered with slay queens, big bums and boobs and out of the world make up and the guys are stuck. The ladies with biggest assets get the richest men, and so girls do whatever it takes to have the assets while totally neglecting their selves. By self, I mean self development. I hear statements like, “why is your hair like this, don't you have a boyfriend?” “These days, you are shining, who's the new man?” “Get a job or get a boyfriend?” The most funny is when a girl feels justified if a man sleeps with her and spends on her. Didn't she enjoy the sex as well? Our sexuality and feminity is no longer a part of our identity but a commodity and business plan. Thus, we see a lot of sexist posts alluding that women are money sucking machines, have no brains for making money, see relationships and men as income earning opportunities, are the source of men's problem, are the reason men don't save, etc... Consequently, from relationships to marriages , the woman is either the man's property or a liability. Girls too have come to believe this. They look beautiful to attract the right kind of men; virtually struggles for the man’s attention. They go into marriages with mama's rule book to please the man. It is the man's world and she must make do with whatever space he has given her.

I heard a mother tell her daughter, "Ask him for money. Stop acting too independent. If he spends so much on you, he will see it as an investment. Men don't like to lose on investments." That was a lady who believes in being in healthy emotional relationship and not the usual business cum romantic relationship, where the lady milks the man and is milked of respect herself. What do you think this advice will do to her psyche? I talk with ladies, I am also a lady and yes, of course it is beautiful when the one you love gives you presents, whether cash or otherwise. Women needs as a matter of fact and their nature to be loved and nurtured. One of the greatest ways to prove you love someone is by giving to them. In a healthy relationship, it however goes both ways. The man gives to and receives from woman; the woman gives to and receives from the man. Everyone is happy. In the case of a mother encouraging her daughter to make the man see her as an investment/property, how do you think she will be treated in a possible marriage with him? Your guess is as good as mine. 

Our cultural beliefs and the popular culture as seen as on social media have increased the helplessness girls feel and so they focus on their outside looks to attract the men who will foot their bills or become baby mamas, a recent development that is fast taking hold of girls. "Girls taking pride in having babies for musicians or actors; what happened?"

Then, there are a lot of organizations clamoring for women empowerment. We even have ministries for Women's Affairs and Political Slots for female appointees. For all these efforts, women are still treated like second class citizens in the African setting. The reason is that instead of addressing the root of these problems in these noble organizations and ministries, women's problems are pampered; we are pitied and then temporary shelters are constructed for us.

What is the way out? On the one hand, we have our extremely free Western sisters. On the other hand, we have our subservient Africans sisters. Which is the way forward? To be or not to be?

In between these two worlds have emerged women who do not fit into either paradigm and who must chart a new course for themselves. Yes, a crop of strong women have arisen who do not fit it into either category. By strength, I do not mean an abrasive woman but a woman who knows her strengths and abilities and have worked on them to become the best version of herself.  She is not afraid of success because it will scare men away. She does not need to buy a man's affection too in case she is wealthier. Let me take her definition a step forward; she doesn't fight men or with men as some feminist values surreptitiously suggest.

She takes advantage of a world of men and women and becomes her best. Reason; we all need and complement each other.

African ladies, we should move beyond all these limitations placed on us by culture and media. And we have the power. Do not be afraid because your aunty who was very successful is also unmarried; the world is fast moving beyond this myopic thinking, we should too. All we need is to grow and the men will show some respect. Women clamor for empowerment and yet demand for a lot of concessions in the work and business place. Sometimes, when men are busy advancing by sheer hardwork, some women do so by butt power. And then when a woman finds herself in a place of power, she crushes every other woman around her and surrounds herself with men. No, we need to move beyond our petty emotions; jealousy, insecurity and all.

I discussed with some friends on this issue of women's empowerment and one said to me, "Imagine all the women gathering to say no to collecting their own share of bride price? It will drastically bring down the cost of bride price and give them more say in the marriage transactions of their daughters." I totally concur. If you don't concur with me, we will keep seeing the numbers of baby mamas increase because the young men cannot afford wedding costs. If you don't, we will keep seeing mothers and ladies having no say in marriage transactions. If you don't, we will keep seeing men treat their wives as elevated properties, slightly worth more than their other possessions. If you don't, we will keep seeing women live less than whom they ought to be because their husbands feel insecure. If you don't, we will keep seeing women who think that husband battering means love and protection. If you don't, we will keep seeing a tradition of helplessness being transferred from one generation of mothers to another.

I'm a believer of the preservation of African values and systems. I'm also a believer in progress and advancement and especially, losing myself free of anything not working. And so in the poem with same title as this article I wrote earlier, I said:

"So we will stand on the road

The one that has four paths

We will spread our feet wide apart

And spread our arms even wider

This will give us balance

And even freedom

Then we will look up, and scream and search out and define and look down and then stand stronger

This is how we win

We will even shut our eyes and ears and the mind harassed by culture and the heart that lives in fear, like a slave of identity and be quiet

The one from inside wants to speak

We must listen

For this is how we win this battle"

Thus by standing on the road of four paths, we will take a look at where we have come from, where we want to go, what is obtainable in other cultures whether profitable or not and then at those things that have held us back and make a balanced decision. When we look at all these factors, we must shut our ears and eyes and listen to ourselves from within. We are creatures of love, nurture and strength- we must draw from these and build ourselves. Most important, the men are a blessing, they are not a competition. The sexes, male and female complete the perfect picture that this universe paints. Imagine a world of no men? Not that I can but there will be too much drama, tears, love, jealousy, gossip, etc... But this world of men's ego, masculine strength, women's jealousy, gossip and love- it is a perfect blend.

At those times, when my much younger brother effortlessly helps me lift heavy objects that I couldn't lift, I sigh and thank God for a world of men. And when I worry and fret over details and make sure everything is in order while he is seemingly unperturbed, I thank God for a world of me, a world of women. If you are a girl reading, can you recall complaining to a guy about something and he's wondering why that upset you, and you both end up laughing at it? But tell the same story to a girl, and sister, for one week you both are still discussing how so much you were wronged. That's the beauty of the sexes.

“What’s your take on marriage?” someone asked me. “Complementary, Not equality”, I responded.  To me, equality sounds like a fight and struggle but complementing is like friendship, a symbiotic relationship, both parties need each other, love each and respect each other. Roles are defined which keeps the family unit functional and happy. End of story, the men are our brothers.

To be or not to be? This is now a question of personal decision. I believe I have presented a fair argument. However, if I could influence you, then I would say to us African girls, " there's a balance to all these. Let us work hard and contribute positively to this world. Foot your bills, don't believe the lie that once you are sexy, all your needs are met (by men). A guy once said to me, “a girl cannot let me foot all her bills and expect me to respect her.” So, we work hard and foot our bills. Ask women who do, there's so much joy and pride when you do that for yourself. Enjoy the beauty of men in your life, see them as partners and get rid of that victim or entitlement mentality. Have children and please don't deprive them of a loving environment of the father and the mother in a committed union. All these baby mama thingy is dizzying for kids. You look glamorous on social media by posing with the son of a rich celebrity, awesome; also take a moment to consider the emotional and psychological well being of that child when it's time. 

In that other time when women were subservient to men, it may have worked and their society wasn't as complex and demanding as ours. However in this world of technology, innovation, speed and change, a breed of smart, creative and strong men and women is the way forward. Anything less is a weight.

Finally, it's time for us to determine who we want to be and be that. This battle is with we; so let's fight our limitations and win. And then we enjoy ourselves. If we don't, then it's totally not worth it.

IGBOKWE VIVIAN IJEOMA

Twitter/Instagram: @club7teen

scriptwriter87@gmail.com 

I did it and I loved it

So, on Saturday 10^th February, I set out for Ibiaku Community of Uruan Local Government Area of AkwaIbom State. Those who know I did my one year compulsory Youth Service in that community would rightly ask, "What on earth are you going back there to do?" Well, my answer would be, "doesn't passion make you do things you wouldn't ordinarily do?" Ever since I finished my youth service in 2015, I have visited that community every year and this is why.

with the kids when we went for the oct 1,2015 march past. they won in the govt. sch.
 category

As we drove to the village in his car that beautiful morning, my boss told us that we were going to serve in a community of kids who were quite challenged in reading and writing. I thought I grasped the situation until my first day in class when I was standing face to face with a kid in primary six who couldn't spell his name. I was alarmed and scared; scared that I wasn't ever going to be able to get across to them to really teach them because they couldn't speak English and I couldn't speak Ibibio. I then recalled what my boss said: "If you can make them to desire to read and write, I'll be very grateful." Thus, our assignment wasn't even to teach them to read and write but to inspire the desire to read and write in them.

during one of sports friday with the kids. you could actually cut away a chunk of joy from their faces

It was the most difficult thing I had done but empathy for their situation drove me on daily. These kids live very difficult lives; born to single parents, mostly teenage mothers and abandoned to their grandmothers whom they end up taking care of. Thus, you see kids who farm and sell the farm produce to care for their grandmothers. For many, school shoes and writing materials are luxuries they cannot afford.

I was employed by a kind individual from the community who built a learning center in one of the primary schools in the community and pays Corp Members to manage the center. Although teaching in the classrooms wasn't part of our job description, it became our major task because the school was very low on labor force. This was how I found myself on an exciting but very challenging one year journey of impacting these kids. We experimented with all sorts of ideas like positive reinforcements with gifts and kind words in class, free extra classes in the evening that attracted many kids from other nearby schools in the community, visiting some kids at home to know why they missed school and encouraging their parents to be more involved in their kid's education, raising money and writing materials from friends and family members during the holidays for the kids, visiting with the village head, pastors and youth leader to encourage more community participation in the children's education and so much more. Sometimes, we would attend community functions such as weddings to blend with the villagers. They would cook and give us. Some visited with us and ate in our place. Most of our ideas worked and we also encountered some really stubborn kids. Sometimes we would pray for the kids; this encouraged us when it got quite difficult.

some of the kids who did a presentation. it took a lot of work to get to look like this 

a cross-section of the competitors

At the end of our service year, we organized a school competition that brought the villagers to our school. Our children read and spelled words that amazed the crowd. We partnered with a local radio station that aired the event without charging us. Most amazing is that two girls got scholarships to secondary school level while a third got a scholarship to university level from the family of my employee.

on a visit with the recipients of our scholarship

We still go to visit the girls in the secondary school and my joy knows no bound. They practically push me down to hug me and then say, "Aunty, we are finding mathematics very difficult." I will smile and say, "take it easy, ask your fellow students to help you and talk to your teachers, you will be fine." It's not a surprise they find many subjects difficult; they’ve had a bad foundation learning foundation all of their lives until now.

the first set of Corp members I trained

Another amazing part of this story is that I compiled all those experiments into a curriculum.

teaching the kids in the learning center during one of my visits

Now, for each batch of Corp members the foundation employs, I go to train and indoctrinate them.

with the family of my employee and the employees of the foundation 

training the Corp members

And when I go, I just don't teach them, I transfer my passion to them and you can see their eyes burst with passion and fire.  I have a lot of stories to share about these kids and I will tell them as the days go by. I wrote many of my most touching blog pieces during my time with these kids; one still remains one of the most read blog articles in one of the blogs I sent them to. First, it was a job, then a passion; now, it is a career.

In all these, I have learnt a huge lesson. Whatever you have to do, do it, do it well and then love it.

Igbokwe Vivian Ijeoma

Scriptwriter87@gmail.com

Twitter/Instagram: @club7teen

THE PRETTY WOMAN

The Beautiful Woman

She steps out elegantly

As if the world is a stage

She waves her hand at the poor men

Like saying, "you are not worth my straps"

When she hurts, she puffs her chin and says

"Just another bad day"

When she laughs, she laughs big like saying

"I really have no care"

When she dresses, she minds every minute detail

And tells  her friends, "everyday is a show"

The beautiful woman

She says to herself

Life is beautiful, everyday is a gift

I live each day  like no other

Yesterday is just  gone but today is here

The Beautiful Woman

She thinks of herself

There's no one like me

So, I keep my head high

The world belongs to me

The rich men fall at her feet

But she raises her head

She even crosses her fingers and then say to them

"There is no one like me

This world belongs to me"

Igbokwe Vivian Ijeoma

Scriptwriter87@gmail.com

Twitter/Instagram: @club7teen

MY GODS AND MY DEMONS

Words are my gods

Words are my demons

A paradox, ain't it?

I use them to inspire

I use them to annoy

They are my blocks,

My artist's brush

Each time I paint

Every other time I build

I love the picture I create

They are like music to the soul

These gods,

These demons of mine

You see, my heart is full of music

And chaos and distrust and questions

And then some doubts and even fears

Laced with bouts and bouts of creativity

And even strength that bursts out of me

Sometimes I can't even control

But for each emotion I feel

These demons of mine

Yes, these gods of mine

They give me the blocks to build

They even give me the brush to paint

I am an artist of life

And so when people say

"Temper it sister, you paint too bright"

I laugh within

The demons won't even let me

The gods do inspire

And so I paint and then I build

I was little but not now I am a youth

Mustn't I paint?

Mustn't I allow the gods to dance within me?

Should I listen to your voice and silence mine?

No, brother of mine

I listen to the music within

And then I paint

I also build

With these demons of mine

Yes, even these gods of mine

Igbokwe Vivian Ijeoma

Scriptwriter87@gmail.com

Twitter/Instagram: @club7teen

IGBO SPEAKING IS VERNACULAR (pt 2)

You also need to know that Nigeria in all her English speaking is not recognized as an English speaking country by Britain, the very country that colonized her, that should have given her that status naturally. Hence, why Nigerians that wish to migrate to study or reside in Britain must pay and write English language test to prove their ability to understand the language. Ordinarily, this should sound like an insult seeing that English is our official language and cause our leaders to do something about this embarrassing situation but we have learnt to accept and even celebrate mediocrity.

I remember a particular incident that took place some years ago. I stayed for some time with this wonderful family, a friend's family after graduation from the university. One day, we were seated around the dining table: my friend, her sister and two of her female cousins. One of her cousins went on as she described each of us; "Ifeoma has Yoruba accent. Chioma has Hausa accent. Priscilla has English accent... You (referring to me) has Igbo accent and it's very local." They all laughed and concurred. That day, I was embarrassed for having an Igbo accent. When I remember that incident, I want to go back and apologize to myself for ever daring to feel embarrassed. For crying out loud, I'm an Igbo girl, why should I have another tribe's accent? This is what Igbos do to themselves and feel unnecessarily embarrassed for who they are.  If an Igbo girl has an English accent, what accent would an English girl have? Igbo accent?

When I was serving as a Corp member in AkwaIbom, the Ibibio people couldn't even pronounce "Ijeoma" properly. Hey! We are from the same nation and yet they cannot pronounce my name properly. The same thing applied to when I tried to pronounce some of their native names for the first time. They laughed at me, yes. Then, no matter how well I learnt to pronounce their names, I could never speak English in their accent. They have this unique way of speaking English in their accent. We even laugh at them when they speak but that is how they are and whom they are. Why try to become someone else? For those who correct me and try to make me speak in proper English accent, I ask them; "have you seen a white man pronounce an Igbo name? Does he do it well? Let me speak English like an Igbo girl."

 When we watch foreign movies, we don't find it difficult to differentiate between an American guy and a British guy because of their accent. You don't need to ask, you know an Indian by his accent whether he is speaking their language or English. You see, your language and accent is your heritage and unique identity. By the time we lose all of these as Igbos, who do we become? I've not seen a people who have identity crisis like Africans. We want to be like every other person except ourselves. Sincerely speaking, if all my audience were Igbo, I would have written this piece in Igbo and enjoy writing down every word and sentence. On Facebook, some people add me to Igbo groups where all the posts are made in English. ??? Of course, I either exit the group or forever remain silent in the group. 

Now, as a result of our non-Igbo speaking, our children do not know our Igbo history and folklores. Do you remember when we were told stories of "mbe" and his various adventures? Do you remember when our parents spoke to us with their sentences heavily punctuated by proverbs? How I miss my father. Many nights, we would sit in front of the house and he will tell me stories of the Biafran war, of his school days, of Igbo tradition, of Nigerian politics and a whole lot more. My father remains the greatest influence on my life and I miss him. Today, I have a few friends whom I hold such discussions with and their depths amazes me. Recently, I learnt about the origin of my people. I also learnt about how the Igbos fought the Biafran war- a story of bravery, sabotage and innovation. 

Today, our children know only about Cinderella and Ben Ten but no idea of our rich stories that teach children good morals and how to co-exist with one another. Today, our children do not know of our stories that talked about the spirit world, and gods, and masquerades,

and local portions, of soldiers fighting wars, of tortoise and his broken back, and why the snake only crawls, and why babies do not talk and so much more.

And just before we demonize some of my points, remember that a people's story and past is their heritage; and no matter how much we embrace Christianity, God recognizes tribes and languages which means He recognizes cultures. 

Also on cultures and histories, no people have a perfect history or past. We all have our dark times including the bringers of Christianity but the importance of history is that it shows where we were and then we what we ought to do to get to the future. Most importantly, our history, our language, our history is who we are. When we deny it and try to become like other people, in which case we can only be secondhand, we lose the very essence of who we are.

This is a call to become Igbos again; to become authentic and true to ourselves again. And why shouldn't we be?

Igbokwe Vivian Ijeoma

Scriptwriter87@gmail.com

Twitter/Instagram: @club7teen

Igbo Language is Vernacular

When we were in primary school, the class prefect would write down the names of those who spoke Igbo in class. Speaking Igbo in class was such a crime. In my house, my father made several efforts to get us to communicate in English; it didn't just work. In fact, the first essay I brought home for my dad to read was in Igbo, written by my proud self. Being a school principal, the man nearly fainted. Not only were we unable to speak English at home, I was prolific in Igbo. What a disgrace, huh?

I see this repeat in our homes today. Many mothers would rather die than see their children speak in Igbo. I notice a particular trend: The mothers/fathers would speak in Igbo to every other person around; then turn around and speak in English to their oyibo children because God forbid that those children would speak in Igbo.

Mothers think their children would seem local if their children spoke in Igbo! Awesome. One actually said this to me. I told her, "Madam, I speak and write Igbo with perfection but when I speak or write in English, I make elegant sentences. And it doesn't remove a thing from my beauty or swag when I speak Igbo; it is my heritage and I'm proud of it."

Why shouldn't mothers teach their kids to be proud of who they are and of their Igbo heritage? The only times kids are reminded they are Igbo is when they are having their Igbo day celebration in school; then they would come in traditional Igbo attires. When you hear them greet in Igbo during their presentations in these events, you would be embarrassed by their accent. Now, we have kids who are growing up in the East, right in the heart of Igbo land who cannot speak Igbo. These same kids speak French fluently and probably some other languages I don't know. Some of the private schools teach the other Nigerian languages like Yoruba and Hausa but not our shameful Igbo language. So then, while the school expects the family to teach the kids how to speak Igbo, the family expects the same (or not) from the school and the child is now left not knowing how to speak his mother tongue. In Abia state, the current Governor made learning Igbo language optional. Can you imagine or believe this? A child to learn his mother tongue optionally?

Consequently, I have a four year old niece who doesn't understand “noro odu.” When I'm in the taxi and I say, “tupu gi agbafee, kwusi mu”, everyone turns to look at me. Most of them have never heard the word tupu in all their lives and probably do not know the meaning. Sometimes, a passenger will say this to me, "you are a true daughter of Igbo." And in my mind, I'll go, "Why not?"

Do you know what I find most funny in all this? I hardly meet kids who speak good English, including those who attend expensive schools. Definitely, there would be but for most kids who are being taught by teachers who do not mind their tenses or their language construction and raised by parents who speak terrible terrible English, English speaking "deals" with them all. The one I find most tiring is the use of "I used to" in all their sentences. "Used to" describes something you did in the past. But you see kids using it for actions they carry out every day. The frequency of the use of that phrase in their communication is also wearying.

The most common ones are:

Water or food is hungrying me.

Cold is catching me.

Sleep is catching me.

She fall me down.

Buy for me biscuit

One day, I heard my nephew say, "Mommy, heat  is doing." I nearly collapsed. He wanted to say that the weather was hot. I've heard all manner of badly constructed English sentences and I feel for these kids. They can't speak good English; they can't speak Igbo. And there's one thing we all fail to understand: All languages share the same basic structure. If you can speak one well enough, you can apply the same principles to the other. While we were growing up, our parents allowed us to speak Igbo at home. It gave us the strong foundation of learning a language. We also read books like “Things Fall Apart” and all that those novels in the African Writers Series. I read many novels in the Mills and Boons series. I loved James Hardley Chase and consumed his books. I read a lot of books and was an avid reader of newspapers as a kid. I still do. All of this added to building my strong vocabulary base. Parents ignore this and would rather play cartoons for their kids. A friend argued this with me one day. He said he spoke good English because he grew up in a family where his dad insisted that all spoke in correct sentences. I asked him for the meaning of a word and asked him where he first encountered the word. He smiled and told me that it was in a book and that his dad made sure they studied hard. He also learnt to speak Igbo from home.

Whenever I encounter a child, I always speak Igbo to him. In my mind I assume I might be his only opportunity of learning the language. When some of them greet me along the road, I'll respond and ask them, "ke kwanu" or "olee otu imere?" Some do not answer because they don't understand what I said. The others respond in English. Igbo speaking is so wrong but I keep trying.

Who set the parameter of what a polished child should sound like?

Who determined that speaking in English means that your child is polished?

These days, I see the children of women roasting corn speak in English as they play in the dust and run about dirty and butt naked while they vomit all manner of bad English. So then, who's child is local? Mine, I guess. I totally accept that if Igbo speaking means my child is local. (Local is our way of saying not polished.)

If you think English is superior to your dialect, so be it. However, note that English is vernacular to the American child as Igbo is vernacular to the Igbo child.

You also need to know that Nigeria in all her English speaking is not recognized as an English speaking country by Britain, the very country that colonized her, that should have given her that status naturally. The reason is that Nigerians including our leaders speak very bad English. Instead of forcing ourselves to be what we aren't even recognized as, why don't we build on and develop our dialects? There are so many new words in English that we do not have the Igbo equivalent and it breaks my heart. One day my nephew spoke such bad English and I turned to him andsaid, "You people are the reason they do not recognize Nigeria as an English speaking country despite the sincere efforts of people like me." Of course, that was on a light note. I however do my best to teach him on how to make better sentences every day.

In addition to advocating for Igbo speaking, I'm also canvassing that parents should encourage and push their kids to read. Cartoons can never replace good ol' reading but that is a topic for another day. For today, let us speak Igbo.

 Igbokwe Vivian Ijeoma

scriptwriter87@gmail.com

Twitter/Instagram: @club7teen