Adult Nigeriansand the Igbo in particular, know the loving intensity with which Professor Austine SO Okwu went about his work as a Nigerian diplomat between 1961 and 1967. Fearless and outspoken, he repeatedly defended Nigeria, challenging and fending off his detractors.
Although not as well known as it should be, Austine Okwu had a guiding hand in the pottery of African unity and the formation of the Organization of the African Union, the OAU. At least this was what I understood when reading a subsection of his book, Truly for Justice and Honour: Memoirs of a Nigerian-Biafra Ambassador.
If the interpretation holds, then such a revelation in my understanding of African history (which, frankly speaking, is next to none), for the sake of posterity must be carried through to its conclusion.
With the phone discussion quickly ruled out, I arranged to meet the professor at his home to clarify certain elements, especially the OAU aspects of the book.
He suggested Saturday at 2 pm and I accepted.
When I got there, I parked my gray Honda curbside and turned my head over my shoulder, the professor warming up on the front deck in the rays of the New Haven, Connecticut sun.
When you climb a kola nut tree, it reminded me of an Igbo proverb, get all the nuts you need because trees the size of kola nut are rarely climbed. I immediately agreed, changed my mind and decided to extend the interview to suit the era of civil war between Nigeria and Biafra.
He led me through the front door into a small hallway. To the right was a medium-sized living room, appropriately furnished for a ninety-two-year-old retired diplomat and his wife, and witness to countless gifts from loving relatives and sympathizers.
“Anselm, darling, please have a seat,” he said, leading me further into the heart of the living room.
Beckoning me was my favorite place to sit, the middle segment of a black leather three-seater sofa against the wall by the window. On a solid brown table in front of me, I placed a copy of the book and the latest versions of my edited articles, Part I and Part II.
The professor sat on a single sofa to my right. As we talked, he frequently cleared his throat. “I’m not feeling well today; I’ve been in bed all day. If I hadn’t promised you, I would have called it off. But I’d love to see you. Once we’re done, I’ll go back to bed. But I’m happy to see you, my son.” Anselm.”
Did you take any medication? I asked.
“I don’t like medicine, unless of course I get sick. My body will heal itself. I’m better. Will you have ginger ale or water?”
“No, professor. Thank you.”
We both avoid food and drinks like middle-aged men avoid talking about aging. We continue without interruption.
I hadn’t made a written list because the questions were hot on my brain, like freshly baked meatloaf.
“Ask any questions you want,” he said, reading my mind. My brain pondered, considering how to start.
Some men ask questions only to frown when a harsh one is thrown. Not Professor Austine Okwu. Since he loves to teach, he loves questions of any difficulty. Naturally, the subtitle ‘Save the OAU’ in his book led the charge.
Save the Addis Ababa conference and the OAU
‘Do you really believe that he participated in the formation of the Organization for African Unity, OAU? If so, how come his name isn’t in every African history book? Many men became legendary for doing much less…’ Mutual laughter broke out to fill the last words.
‘I didn’t exactly say that in my book,’ Austine countered, her laugh turning into a smile and ending with a throat clearing.
‘But that was my conclusion after reading the passage many times.’
‘Find the page in the book where I talked about my contribution to the OAU.’
At his insistence, I grabbed the book from the table, quickly turned to page 136 and read the section with the subheading: ‘Save the Addis Ababa conference and the OAU.’ The essential sequence of the section is presented below.
Emperor Haile Selassie
African states divided into two ideological camps, primarily because of their approach to fighting their common imperial enemy. One camp was in favor of dealing with oppressors with kid gloves. The other camp wanted the imperialists to leave immediately, without delay. ‘A divided Africa is a launching pad for the devil,’ said Ethiopia’s Haile Selassie, calling a meeting to unite the two warring camps, a total of thirty-one independent states. Julius Nyerere smelled an opportunity.
Julius Nyerere, Tanzania, Dar es Salaam, May 1963
President Nyerere, on the ‘drive out the oppressors now’ camp, saw the Emperor’s meeting as a good opportunity to bring in freedom fighters from areas of Africa still under colonial rule. He called a meeting of all diplomats serving in dar es salaama total of ten African heads of mission.
“Tell the leaders of your countries,” Nyerere said, “to allow freedom fighters to be part of the May meeting.” To emphasize, Nyerere repeated: ‘Our brothers who are still fighting against colonial oppression must come to the meeting.’
The diplomats did what diplomats usually do; listen, take notes and keep quiet. Give thanks for the time spent, the food eaten and the friendship built and then report back to your country of origin.
All but one nodded approvingly at Julius Nyerere’s directives. Very soon the solitary dissertation spoke. ‘Inviting the freedom fighters, Mr President, can blow up a Pandora’s box and ruin the meeting,’ opined the young Nigerian diplomat. Immediately, Nyerere informed an assistant to stop SO
Austine SO Okwu detained by President Julius Nyerere
Challenging high-ranking diplomats after hours in local restaurants is brave enough, but disagreeing with an African head of state at a conference is always an error in judgement. Unless, of course, his name is Austine, in which case innate tact, grit, and cunning clench his muscles to make decisions.
Alone in detention, Austine was in a dilemma. Did my magic amulet work? And if so, why did they stop me?
“Your position once again on the freedom fighters and the Addis Ababa Conference, Mr. Austine?” the president asked.
I foresee trouble, Mr. President. Inviting favorite freedom fighters to the meeting would mean that other Heads of State would invite their own favorite freedom fighters, some of whom are fighting rival Heads of State. These actions may sink the Addis Ababa meeting.’
One hand cupping a narrow chin, Nyerere contemplated how a fragile conference could burst into flames. Two possible outcomes: Risk ruining the meeting or risk disappointing the freedom fighters.
He snuggled up with a confidante. After a few minutes, she came out and capitulated.
‘Thank you, Mr. Okwu,’ said the president, ‘you are a true African patriot, and your judgment may well have saved the Addis Ababa conference.’
Memos were sent to the other diplomats: assistance from freedom fighters is out of the question. The Addis Ababa conference continued, the two rival camps merged, and the Organization of African Unity (OAU) was born.
So did SO really save the OAU?
Having reached some resolution on the OAU issue, our dialogue examined the events surrounding the Nigerian-Biafran civil war, 1967-1970: Was Kaduna Nzeogwu really an Ibo? Austin he met the legendary Aguyi Ironsi? Did the Igbo condemn the January 1966 coup that killed Prime Minister Tafawa Balewa and many iconic northern leaders? Why didn’t Britain’s Prime Minister Harold Wilson lean on northern Nigeria to stop the civil war? Did the Yoruba tribe speak out against the war? Where did the fear of Igbo domination come from at that time? And so on.
All my questions and the teacher’s answers will be presented in the fourth part of my article.
