Chinua Achebe: He Shall Return

It is chiefly through books that we enjoy intercourse with superior minds. In the best books great men talk to us, give us their most precious thoughts and pour their souls into ours. GOD be thanked for books. They are voices of the distant and the dead and make heirs of spiritual lives of past ages. Books are true levellers. They give to all who faithfully use them.. William Ellery Channina.
Growing up as a little boy, I was not a reader neither did I ever imagine myself to be one someday, despite all the books in my dad's library. All I ever imagined myself was to be a rich man but the vehicle that will take me to that state of affluence was never factored. I cannot say the exact time I fell in love with books. But, I know for sure that I was never the same person after I heard Dr. David Oyedepo assert that, a white man once said, "if you want to hide anything from an African man put it in a book because a black man will never read".
After that fateful day, I began to consume literature. It is through literature I came in contact with so many writers without ever meeting them physically.
Esiaba Irobi of blessed memory, in his famous play Hangmen Also Die described one of his characters, Dr. Ahitophel Ogbansiegbe as a man who used word as a loaded pistol. Without any doubt,
it is literally obvious that there are some writers who make use of word as if they have sole copyright to the use of words. They write as if word is their ward, as if word is a loaded pistol in their hands to pull down stencilled opposition and send their target enemy into the abyss of shame. This class of writers paint lucid imagery in your mind's eye as they transport you effortlessly into their sublime fictional world.
Without further ado, it is this class of writers that dispelled the jinxed janused demon in books for me and consequently made me fall in love with words. It is among this class of writers that I came in contact and fraternised with; Niyi Osundare, Wole Soyinka, Okey Ndibe, Rudolph Okonkwo, Esiaba Irobi, Femi Adesina, Mike Awonyifa and Elechi Amadi.
It is also in this same clique of writers that I romanced Chimamanda Adichie, Nze Sylva Ifedigbo, Pius Adesanmi, Sonala Olumhese, Yakubu Mohammed, Ray Ekpu, Dele Giwa, Chukwuemeka Ike and Cyprian Ekwensi. It is in this literary milieu of pen warriors, that Chinua Achebe bestride like Julius Ceaser the colossus.
Chinua Achebe represents several things to different people. To some, he is a clairvoyant writer, a master storyteller, a poet. And to others, a father, an uncle. While in some quarters, he is just an Igbocentric persona. I was forced alongside with my peers by the Ministry of Education to read his book as a young lad in pursuit of academic excellence.
However, as I grew up and realised that I was lost in the labyrinth of self identification as a Nigerian nay as an African. I went back to his works, this time not under academic duress but under free will fired by the age long philosophical axiom, "Man Know Thyself". This is how I consumed and still consuming Achebe's books, essays and interview excerpts.
Through his works, he became to me a voice for the voiceless, an unassuming pen hero, master of polemics, a pan-african thinker, a cross cultural analyst, an academic demagogue, a sagacious teacher and unabashed speaker. Personally, he represents a phenomena, who writes and speaks the way he deeply feels without caring whose ox is gored. Indeed, Chinua's pen does not suffer fools gladly.
Now at this auspicious moment of his mortal transition. In this sombre moment of literary post-mortem, eulogy and counter eulogies. I was almost tempted to join others (the uninitiates) to mourn and eulogise Chinua but my knowledge of the African traditional belief forbade me.
Mortal warriors of Chinua calibre in African cosmology do not just create a void and scamper away in pretence of death. They always return to fill the void.
As others mourn and celebrate Chinua, I, his acolyte, sit patiently like Ezeulu at the threshold of the shrine of Ulu, awaiting the new moon that will usher in the return of the big masquerade amongst the living.
Like the aged old woman, Chinua can never grow old or retire in a dance he has been renowned. He will return back to the arena to dance again. But this time, in a wilder and wider circle. As a more fierce song, wafts into the air from the sacred Ikolo.
Chinua shall return. He will return!

Reviews

[Jack Dawkins]

P.s you referenced a strange idiom to me..without carrying whose Ox is gored...what exactly does that mean? If you have the time, please.

[Tobe Osigwe]

It simply means; one not giving a damn about the direct recipients of his/her action, be it friends or enemies. I sincerely apologise for the delay. Thanks for finding time to read my work. Remain creatively inspired.

[Jack Dawkins]

Mr. Osigwe, Thank you for this wonderful essay. I read that Mr. Chinua Achebe had passed away a while back but never put much thought to it as I have never read any of his works. Your passionate eulogy has piqued my interest. You have mentioned so many writers and I will attempt to google them all...Thank you for that. I read mainly fiction however, so I will be looking from hat perspective. Thank you again for your well written story.

P.s It would be much easier to read if you left a space between paragraphs.

[Tobe Osigwe]

Mr Jack, thanks for reading and your creative observation. Remain creatively inspired.