Anambra: Time for Agbogho Nmanwu
EDIFYING ELUCIDATIONS By Okey Ikechukwu
| EDIFYING ELUCIDATIONS BY OKEY IKECHUKWU The Lady masquerade, or Agbogho Nmanwu, is the physical embodiment of mature feminine beauty. She oozes ladylike decency, unaffected elegance and a graceful ambience, that is at once admirable and reassuring. Her very essence, and also the physical appearance, showcase the ideal form of womanly gentleness and dignity. The ‘face’ and features of Agbogho Nmanwu portray flawless calmness. The form of the body is totally and unaffectedly supple in a refined sort of way. The steps are graceful and sure. The hand movements are dainty. The gestures are nice and reassuring. Everything about Agbogho Nmanwu shows effortless control. Children love this masquerade. She is the very soul of everything womanly in whatever she does. The wildest of men controlled themselves in behaviour and speech whenever she approached, or was around. In her presence all coarseness were kept at bay. The people always endeavoured to protect Agbogho Nmanwu whenever there was a stampede during a celebration in the community square; or anywhere else for that matter. No, she was not to be violated! Mothers used her as a reference for their female children. Women of questionable reputation, that is women of controversial self-presentation, always stood rebuked by the very nature and existence of Agbogho nmanwu. Angry men relaxed on sighting the Lady Masquerade. Children cheered up for the same reason. Yes, Aghoho nmanwu at once symbolized a mature woman and a virtuous maiden; to be shielded from all debauchery and degeneracy. With the swearing in of Soludo as governor, Ndi Anambra must now either collectively rise in bold defence of new paradigms for responsible public service and leadership excellence, or say goodbye to becoming part of a 21st century world. The state has had its fair share of terrible “masquerades.” Let us look at just two of the worst types that have held that endowed state hostage for the last two decades. One of the most invidious, most reprehensibly offensive and roundly disgusting of these masquerades is ‘Onuku.’ The name simply means ‘fool,’ or the fool. This masquerade has the form of a man. But what a wretch of a man he represents! Onuku embodies and symbolises degenerate manhood. It is the very worst type of man anyone could possibly hope to see, or imagine. Undignified, unwilling to take part in open, manly contests, wielder of unearned titles and winner of wresting contests where he either had no challengers, or where he first neutralized his opponents by either poising or by violating the Rules of Engagement and compromising the umpires. Such a man lives, but no one really knows his means of livelihood. He pays people for loyalty and does not understand the meaning of truth, service and selflessness. And Anambra has had political Onukus prancing all over the place for some time now. But back to the masquerade called Onuku. His shabbiness is legendry. IHis looks, in facial feature, are undisguisedly repulsive. Its total lack of dignity, grace and refinement stand out in abject repugnance. Totally without any redeeming feature, Onuku’s costume is offensive, dull, drab and dreary in every way. The ‘face’ wears a permanent and abominably lecherous leer. The nose runs. The tongue droops, hanging from one side of the mouth, as if it would drop to the ground at any moment. The steps are purposeless. The gait is unsteady. The general movement, considered for a full-grown man, is wishy-washy. The bearing is annoyingly wobbly. The carriage is beggarly. The sagging shoulders suggest everything despicable you can think of in a man. Onuku never walks in a straight line, no! He also does not walk with the sure and firm steps of a healthy, or bold, man. This masquerade will rather continuously enact the zigzag path of a drunkard as it walks, to the irritation and annoyance of observers. Worse still, he is never accompanied by drummers, or assistants. Onuku offers no cheery entertainment of any sort, does not sing, does not dance, does not try to amuse anyone and does not even ask for money, the way some masquerades do. So, what does Onuku ever really offer? Watch this masquerade enter the venue of any event and you will through up your hands in dismay and consternation. Never through the popular pathway, or entrance, mbanu! Sneaking into the community square from nearby farms, or bushes, unnoticed is his ken. Watch him meander to where unsuspecting women are absorbed in the celebrations. See how Onuku will, quietly and without warning, at least none of the women will notice on time, as he inflicts hugs and all manner of disconcerting molestations on his unlucky victims. The only masquerade you would sometimes find receiving beatings from, or getting involved in fights with, women is Onuku: a symbol of debauchery, degenerate manhood and the profane. This masquerade often made the job of mothers who wished to keep their rascally children on the slippery path of moral rectitude easy. An exasperated mother may rebuke her boy by asking whether he wished to grow up and become like Onuku. It always worked like magic. A shudder would sometimes even accompany many a boy’s emphatic “no” to such a query from the mother. Some boys would burst into tears at the very thought of becoming like Onuku. Many a child thus queried may even need to be consoled and petted for a long time thereafter. Most pregnant women would do anything to avoid setting their eyes on Onuku, throughout the duration of their pregnancy. Reason? There was the belief that pregnant women should generally avoid bad and abominable things during the period of their pregnancy; so as not to give birth to malformed or evil children. Yes, mothers dreaded the thought of giving birth to a creature so wretched, so despicable and so degenerate in appearance, behaviour, character and spirit as Onuku. Onuku is just Onuku. And Anambra has had its fair share of Onuku’s. So, enough! It’s time to put an end to tomfoolery! Which is not to say that Onuku has been the only troublesome masquerade in Anambra politics. The companion male masquerade that also had Anambra State under his dominion is Okwonma, or Agaba. The very name of this masquerade is interchangeable with ‘the wild one’. His arrival anywhere meant danger, unrest, end of fun, arbitrary assertion of dominance and authority. That is why he strikes terror into the heart of almost everyone. And Anambra politics has had its political Okwonmas, none of whom has totally turned a new leaf. But back to the masquerade itself. Okwonma is of massive build. He wielded an intimidating barrel of a chest and bodied forth an imposing height. The form and frame of this masquerade are alarming in every way. So is the ‘face,’ with its intimations of unedited daredevilry. That is why the sight of Okwonma was always an alarm bell to run for shelter. He bespoke manly strength. But it was manly strength of the baffling, barbaric, destructive and purposeless type. Okwonma used incomprehensible malignity and unbridled violence as raw materials; representing purely physical, manly energy that is devoid of feelings and blind to emotions. That is perhaps why he is also unblinking in the damage he does. No, there is nothing edifying, or uplifting about this masquerade. Everything associated with it is always of the violent and dangerous type. It wields a big, sharp and well-made machete. Its every movement is swift, daring, sudden and totally threatening. The steps are firm, menacing and broadly claiming right of way. Other masquerades quickly vacate the community square on its arrival. Everything and everyone in its way is a potential victim of motiveless manhandling. That is perhaps also why Okwonma, or Agaba, is sometimes held by a strong and long restraining rope. This leash is usually tied around its waist; and several of its followers, or assistants, contend with its never-ending struggle to be rid of this restraint. Which means that the restraining rope gave no guarantees about the masquerade ever being of good behaviour. If, as occasionally happened, the masquerade managed to break free of its restraint, people fled in unidentified directions. Abject terror would be written on many faces while they were at it. You cannot blame them because this dangerous masquerade does not understand the consideration women deserve in public. It respects no one’s belongings, as it boldly tramples on the wares of traders, if it ran into them. Fun loving people avoid this masquerade, like a monster. Others, fun loving or not, loathe it as a source of panic and fear. It uses terror and ‘mad’ behaviour to recreate its environment whenever it arrives. Just as women in every festive square often kept a concerned lookout for Onuku, there was no one who would be so daring as not to always try to avoid crossing paths with Okwonma. The way women would pray not to give birth to an Onuku is the same way everyone would pray not to encounter this masquerade, or give birth to a son who would be a law unto himself. In sum, Okwonma is a living terror, symbolising brute, unrefined manhood. People stood out of its way, giving it the right of way, in order not to get hurt. I have not said anything about the Ijele here, because it is not a masquerade. Yes, the Ijele is the Ijele! The collective protection and “ownership” of the Agbogho Nmanwu will be proof that the Village Square is ready for the Ijele. Enough said! |
