SHADOWS OF A NIGHT II
IN THE BEGINNING…
“Oh thank you sir!” the teen began gratefully as she gathered the remains of her dress. “You saved my life. You saved my body. Thank you. Thank you sir!” she spoke feverishly. Ozi did not hear a thing until the girl, in appreciation, embraced him from behind. He felt the soft touch of the girl’s breasts against his body. He sharply turned around; looking embarrassed, he gently drew the teen away from him.
“It’s Okay. Are you hurt?” he asked the girl.
“Not much, unlike the last time I was attacked,” the girl said looking disheveled. She told him that was not the first time she had been assaulted. Only a reduction surgery, he thought, would put the girl out of her misery.
The sleepy journalist sighed as he recalled that incident; and that was by far the least of his encounters with criminal acts. He was not a crime reporter but one way or the other he had found himself working that beat. With his incisive and thorough write-ups he had exposed not a few dirty cops’ evils. With his writings he had sent one particular underhanded police officer to gaol; incidentally, he was not aware of this. His consistent, factual and detailed chronicle of the infamous City Ten killings that shook the Federal City was invaluable in exposing the murderous cops behind the tragedy. At that time the police maintained that the ten persons shot dead were armed robbery suspects. Ozi dug deep into the suspected murder case, asking along the line that even if these six persons were robbery suspects were they not to be presumed innocent until they were found guilty. He dug deeper and the revelations sent the Police Command tumbling down. The murdered armed robbery suspects were innocent bricklayers, after all.
Whilst he bemoaned the deplorable state of policemen, he was even more appalled by their corrupt and murderous tendencies. Their penchant to kill for 20 Naira, to torture an innocent suspect to confess to a crime he did not commit, to lend rampaging armed robbers their uniforms and munitions, and above all, to kill on personal provocations. Little wonder a policeman was no more fondly called Ascari – he now bore the sobriquet: The Trigger. Every policeman was trigger-happy. They were walking time-bombs, about to explode at a gentle push.
CRISIS IN THE SOUL II
“Crisis in the soul” In Chinua Achebe’s No Longer At Ease
Dr. Jaya Lakshmi Rao V., Mrs A.V. N. College, Visakhapatnam, Andhra Pradesh
Obi is a sensible young man who could question the unjust authority of Mr. Green, his English boss. He was stable enough to thwart the practice of accepting bribes in his personal life, and was modest enough not to fall for the vanities usually associated with a foreign returned. Yet Obi fails ultimately, because on the one hand unlike his heroic grandfather Okonkwo, he was not decisive enough in his actions, and on the other, he lived at a time when an individual is rendered impotent to be firm about anything in life, either in personal affairs such as marriage or in public life where he cannot enforce freedom of his will. Here lies the ‘crisis’ of his life.
On the domestic front, Obi testifies to the Ibo adage, ‘ Mother is supreme.’ He holds his mother in high regard and is constantly aware of her sacrificing nature. Yet, her vehement disapproval of his intended marriage to Clara, an Osu girl, has him in shocked dismay. It is when Obi is forced to choose between his mother and Clara that he falls prey to emotional turmoil and loses his moral balance and his ideals start disintegrating. After returning from his village to Lagos, with his equanimity in shreds, Obi succumbs to the later events. He gets caught red-handed while accepting a bribe and is forced to face trial in a court of justice. Yet Obi is arguably strong. To cite few instances; his last minute decision to prevent Clara from her proposed abortion, and his belated idea to marry her, his reluctance to recommend those candidates who fall short of the minimum qualification to merit a scholarship and finally the betrayal of ‘ treacherous tears’ on being called a young man of ‘education’ and ‘promise’ in the court by the judge.
Obi Okonkwo, the twentieth century magus, when he journeys home has certain definite ideas regarding his future. What he fails to foresee however, is to find himself in that slope of instability wherein a brilliant man like him would stand confounded. He is unable to acknowledge faith in the ‘old dispensation’ the norms of which are in the throes of panic caused by the advent of ‘ alien people clutching their gods’. He is equally restive in the milieu of urban Lagos because he is unable to conform to the ideas of the west. In a society which is predominantly materialistic, he is forced to follow such modes of living as maintaining a chauffeur-driven car, upkeep of a modern home, luxury of frequenting nightclubs, paying taxes besides expenses involving the education of his brothers and sisters and contributing to the family finances.
The life and career of Obi Okonkwo prove that the advent of white civilization ‘loosed’ ‘ blood-dimmed tide’ of anarchy on African life. No wonder people like Obi who cannot put up with their disillusioning present, and would be ‘glad of another death’. Disillusion with the native life, which is still in the vice-like grip of outdated ideas and the futility of western education that proved ineffectual in closing the gulf of difference between caste and outcaste-this predicament of Obi and his likes is poignantly voiced in Okara’s poem thus:
When at break of day at river-side
I hear of jungle drums….
Then I hear a wailing piano
Solo speaking of complex ways. (Gleason, 143)
The common struggle of educated Africans, who stand confounded between acceptance and rejection, is evocatively portrayed in the torn character of Obi Okonkwo. He feels ‘ terrible’ after accepting his first bribe. But he was not able to fight the ‘ practice’. He could not find for himself a balanced scale of values with the help of which he would have retained his integrity.
In the modern Nigerian society, unlike in the tribal communities, the “sharing” of any benefit took place only among the top people. As a result, everyone tries to get to the top through the disreputable means of offering bribes.
In Nigeria the government was ‘ they’. It had nothing to do with you or me. It was an alien institution and people’s business was to get much from it as they could without getting into trouble”. (Achebe, No Longer at Ease, 29-30)
An interesting twist in the matter is that, it may cause more trouble by refusing a bribe than by accepting it. There is a method to this madness too. As a minister of state says, the trouble was not in the receiving of the bribe, but failing to do the thing for which the bribe was given (Achebe, No Longer at Ease, 80).
Thus one evil paves way to another. Even a good custom could outlive its purpose and value and thus become corrupt, a symbol of anarchy in a different situation. The offering of the ‘kola nut’ that signified politeness and warmth towards a visitor in the traditional society for instance, is equal to the offering of bribe outside the traditional context or Obi being referred to as the only ‘palm fruit’ of the village.
The village code of conduct has been violated but a more embracing and a bigger one has not been found. (Achebe, No Longer at Ease, 2.)
While old values like courage and valour are no longer valid, the educated native’s condition like that of Obi is charged with tragic undertones and is worse than that of his brothers in the bush. Achebe comments,
His abortive effort at education and culture though leaving him totally unredeemed and unregenerated had nonetheless done something to him- it had deprived him of his links with his own people whom he no longer even understood and who certainly wanted none of his dissatisfaction or pretension. (“Colonialist Criticism,” 5)
Where then is the solution for the likes of Obi whom we see by the dozen in modern societies? It is perhaps in evolving a culture of their own from their heritage handed down by generations, leavened by cosmopolitan experience, a result of close encounters with the colonizers.
As the doyen among Indian philosophers S. Radhakrishnan says,
Life is like a game of bridge. The players are dealt cards unknown to them. But they can play the game well or badly. A skilful player may have a bad deal and yet win the game, whereas a bad player may get a good and yet make a mess of it. (49)
People like Obi Okonkwo can escape suffering ‘crisis in the soul’ by making right choices like good bridge players. Their timely decisions and exercising control and freedom to expand according to the changing times and needs of an ever growing society can help them get out of the iron hold of dogmas and retain their equanimity.
beibee
