The Candid Whimper Of Igbo Language: Save Me from Becoming Extinct By Emeka Ubesie

The Candid Whimper Of Igbo Language: Save Me from Becoming Extinct By Emeka Ubesie

Igbo axioms say that; it is he who owns the corpse that carries it on the head. What are we going to do to a child who puts on loincloth and drink from his mother’s breast? It is true that a grasshopper that was killed by the okpoko was deaf. When a man does not know where the rain met him, he will certainly not know where it will stop.  

It is no longer a surprising statement that the Igbo language is on her way to be extinct. I could hear her voice that is swathed with agony from a miniscule cave blubbering and pleading that her time has not come yet. It is heartbreaking to note that those she reached out for help are the same individuals that want her to be murdered. If she dies any time soon in the near century, just know that it is you and I that slaughtered her like a sacrificed he goat to the language of the Whiteman. The good news is that we must certainly pay the ultimate price. Chukwu okike, our ancestors and all the alusi in the Igboland will certainly pass their judgement unto the generation that spearhead her execution.

During 1950s, 1960s and 1970s in Nigeria, were the era when knowing how to speak and write Igbo language was a thing of pride and honour. It twists and proverbs were out of this world. So many young Igbos were recognised internationally during these periods by the bravura art they were able to craft, using their local language. Young men and women walked with their head high, as they conversed with one another using the Igbo language. I will not be wrong to avow that life was sweeter, better and fun at that time, in our various Igbo communities, when compared to what we have in this recent time. Elders employed the use of proverbs in addressing issues. Morals at that time were sane because, the stories that were written with the native language have a way of chastising evil practices, and encouraging the young ones to do things the right way. In 1980s and above, the story was truncated, and reverse became the case.  

Omemma na emere onwe ya, the first Igbo novel that I read when I was seven years old impacted in me with good morals that have fashioned my personality and ideology, even as an adult today. Of a truth, you will not be able to write any other foreign language properly, without having the knowledge of your mother tongue. Please, kindly argue with your village masquerade if you doubt this assertion. Will Achebe had been able to pen-down and decipher thoroughly the story in ‘Things Fall Apart,’ if he was a novice with regards his mother tongue, the Igbo language? It is so depressing that we now refer to any good Igbo man or woman that speaks the language fluently, as been too Igbotic in this 21^st century. Our mother tongue has suddenly turned a primitive language. What a shame.

If Igbos can learn from the Yorubas and Hausas, and hold their native language to a very higher esteem, it will be a plus for us all. In University of Nigeria, Nsukka, which is located in the heart of Igboland, a professor openly swanked that his daughters do not know how to speak Igbo. What a taboo, aru! To him, it is a thing of class. Some Igbos that grew up in Lasgidi, as they have nicknamed Lagos, would prefer to communicate with one another, using the Yoruba language right in the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, rather than doing same in their own mother tongue, because to them, it is the language of the elite.

Our African culture and values have gone the way of our ancestors. The remaining specks are resting in the cesspit. The negative effects of this madness are glaring in our society today. We have compromised a lot and the Western Civilization also helped in jeopardizing the good African values and lifestyle, tagging most of them evil and primordial. It is high time we returned back to the drawing board, if we want to purge our society of all manner of ill practices that have dominated her mind and consciousness.

When a black ant bites the buttocks, it learns some sense. The titled man, knowing not what to say, says that his companions have already said what he would have said. We are Africans, and we are ndi Igbo! Let us go back to our root.

(Emeka is a young Nigerian writer and public affairs analyst. He is a member of The Royal Life Saving Society of Nigeria, Institute of Public Diplomacy and Management (IPDM), Nigerian Institute of Management (NIM), and Chartered Institute of Purchasing and Supply Management of Nigeria (CIPSMN))

Email: emekaubesie@yahoo.com

Twitter: @emeka_ubesie