by
Ambrose Ehirim No question, Los Angeles has emerged as a cultural model for cities all around the globe. Take a ride on Crenshaw Boulevard to Leimert Park and you will find out it has become synonymous with the African American cultural community. Hancock Park and La Brea Avenue is an identity of the Synagogues and Jewish cultural and arts centers. East Los Angeles identifies with the Chicano cultural and labor union communities. On Venice Boulevard toward Venice Beach, the samba-playing Brazilians entertain in their usual colorful and flamboyant manner. Where can I identify my own cultural order?
On April 10, 2003, I checked my messages arriving home from the stressful and bumper-to-bumper bottleneck Los Angeles streets and freeways traffic with calls from loved ones, my brother, my niece, my church pastor, my daughter's teacher, Dr. Edmund Ugorji, telemarketers, my childhood buddy Eugene Onyeji, my classmate at college Ardis Hamilton who was at All Progressive Grand Alliance (APGA) launching as my guest, my good friend and renowned journalist Austen Oghuma, community leaders meeting, Los Angeles African American Political Forum and many others too numerous to mention.
I played back the calls. I returned and missed some of them. Among them, the call from Dr. Ugorji of which I left a message. He returned back my call and spoke of my incommunicado, and among other things, delightedly invited me to his house for dinner, the next day. I honored his invitation and told him I would pop up at 7:30 PM, the scheduled day. After my conversations with Dr. Ugorji, I called Oghuma whose fascinating political debate takes us into the night. Debates on why Biafranigeria shouldn't break up, and debates on why I insist Biafranigeria has no business being a "one united nation." And, too, debates on why Olusegun Obasanjo should keep keeping on in leading the nation at its critical era.
However, it was the eve of Mbieri Community Association of Southern California fundraising event and launching of its first almanac that I kept up my word to pay homage to Dr. Ugorji for dinner. On my way, I stopped by Four Seasons Market run by Dozie Ozoemena to check the week's fliers-fundraising events, wake-keeping, launching, naming ceremonies, baby showers, cultural dances, graduations, weddings and the latest in local politics before my final destination of the said evening. At Four Seasons, the fliers and political junkies hung around. It was usual and typical of my expectations as the Zik ekwuo aru ahia mgbede gatherers were at work doing their thing, saying what they don't know and what they do know sometimes, the kind of "tabloid press" you see at the newsstands, and the kind of trash talks you encounter at barbershops..
It was really nothing new to see the loquacious
ahia mgbede gatherers, evening market gossipers in their same old ways talking big and rubbing shoulders of what's new in town. Talks like "Nna, inugwo?" Asi na Jerry gburu ozu, oloputara brand new zero-mileage Hummer H2" (Man, have you heard it? It is said Jerry launched a brand new zero-mileage Hummer H2) was the cultural order. One even asked me "what are you driving now, Hummer?" I was not moved knowing the way
ndi be anyi, our people operates which is worrisome for the fact that our values and popular culture is being wiped out ever since the "Push Factor" began, the political, economic and socio-cultural conditions that made us flee our native lands in search for a better life.
Nevertheless, in order not to spoil my evening and looking forward to a sound political and intellectual discourse with Dr. Ugorji, I took off to keep up with my appointment as initially planned. Dr. Ugorji, a linguist, and medical director of Los Angeles Department of Health Services is another political junkie. He welcomed me and offered me and seat. He asked "what kind of drink" I would like. "Water or soda will be fine, precisely lemon drink if soda," I said to him. Generous, humorous and frank, he admitted I was a rare gem based on my thought-provoking articles and confidence regarding the way I speak. It was a long debate as we talked into the night while his kids went to bed. It was the eve of the ridiculous and embarassing National Assembly elections of Olusegun Obasanjo's dubious administration. And, all in all, it was the usual Friday evening when the
otimkpus, the alarmists gather to make some noise in a series of pepper soup joints around Los Angeles.
Somehow, that evening, I allowed Dr. Ugorji to do all the talking while I sipped my soda listening attentively. He spoke at length his disgust with Achike Udenwa's inept and corrupt administration in Imo State and the many wonders found in the Igbos of the Diaspora and their chieftaincy titles. He talked about the schools we left behind and its deteriorating conditions, and why nobody is doing anything about it since the missionaries and
ndiocha, the white people left us alone to figure things out. He talked about secession bid for autonomy by every hamlet in Igboland and how it created a big divide in the Igbo nation. He talked about the scramblers and opportunists erecting mansions and "palaces" on dusty alleys with no street numberings. He complained, too, about the pogrom and civil war comparing the Igbos with the Jews which really caught my attention in all that he was saying.
"Igbos have nothing at all in common with the Jews," I would say. "Nothing at all, no comparison and not even close." First, despite quarrelling among themselves, greed, envy and hatred do not exist in the Jewish nation. Their pop-culture dating back from the Biblical days is still intact and viable. They know Adolph Hitler was evil and "never again" would the most blood soaked event in humankind be allowed to take place. A five year old Jewish kid, growing up learns in the Synagogue, day care centers and faiths in the Torah that "to forget is to proclaim Hitler innocent." Ask a Jewish kid who the father of the modern Jewish state is and he or she will be quick to tell you.
In contrast, the Igbos have quickly forgotten the evisceration of a pregnant woman, the widespread bloodletting, the "Asaba male death march and drowning," Benjamin Adekunle's proclamation of shooting at every moving creature in Igboland and other horrible cases of that nature, finding solace having an affair with a people who never acknowledged what they did was evil and must not be entertained. Just like the Diaspora Jewish kid who has learned about the Holocaust and the state of Israel, its migration and persecution over the years, a Diaspora Igbo kid and second generation immigrant to be exact, ask who the Igbos are or who is Francis Akanu Ibiam and you likely would hear "never heard of him." Or speak Igbo to these lost generations and you will hear "I don't get it, man!"
But ask this kid or a number of Igbo Diaspora kids who Lebron James is. One hundred percent of these kids will be quick to tell you without guessing that he is the number one ranked High School basketball sensation from Akron, Ohio. He will be recognized by all. To a point and so disturbing some Igbo intellectuals do not want their kids to speak Igbo in public. What's all these for?
Ugorji was pissed and admitted exhaustion of all options in Igbo renaissance. "Does it mean we are finished?" I would ask.
"Enyi amaghim," --my friend, I don't know, Ugorji would distressingly respond.
Of course, we are finished and being weary of pointing out that we have no "adversaries" and enemies but ourselves, we who have caused every divide within our kith and kin tailored to the desire of our enemies should be blamed for the present state of the Igbos. I left Ugorji's house with the never-ending excruciating pains I have beared all my life looking at the sorry state of the Igbo nation.
My evening was in order and I looked forward to the very big occasion about to take place the next day. Earlier, Ugorji and I discussed about the big event, Mbieri gala night. He offered me a high table for the upcoming event, and knowing the story of the dog named "Jack" I declined and promised to show up as usual, to observe and report.
On Saturday April 12, 2003, many invitations and fliers sat on my study desk, and many occasions of the cultural order were taking place the same day. There was Onicha Igbo Cultural Association fundraising event, Okwahuman Association of Southern California Special Easter Dance, Eko Club California, Nkwerre Association of Southern California, Amaigbo Cultural Association, Mbieri Community Association of Southern California Fundraising and Launching of its first almanac, South High Car Wash Crusade to raise fund for the football team and many other socio-cultural events. I checked my calendar and had marked Mbieri Community gala as my first point of call in all the cultural order.
Traditional outfit wearing doormen, beautiful looking children rehearsing at the back corner for the occasion's special dance, uniformed Mbieri women cheering on the aisle, the hippies roaming around and cocking eyes at one another, the flowing gowners showing their stuff, Veronica serving her delicious dishes and uniformed Mbieri men tending bar, it looked like one of those Brazilian carnivals and Big Easy's Madigras, populated by men and women who had been invited to the "fundraising event and launching of 1st Mbieri almanac."
I popped up late in the evening and was greeted by one of the occasion's organizers Nze Odunze Igbonagwam who had sold to me one of the event's tickets. Before my arrival, I had called Oghuma to meet me at the ballroom of Hollywood Park Casino in Inglewood, California and collect a ticket I reserved for him sold to me by Dr. Ugorji. Oghuma, however, could not make it to the show due to other special engagements elsewhere in the Los Angeles area.
The evening was all showman and local celeb Solomon Egbuhuo's doing. For the last several years, the one and only MC in Igbo cultural events around the Los Angeles area has organized and mceed occasions to help various communities raise funds for worthy causes despite the widespread scandals of keeping funny books. Egbuhuo, a businessman and promoter of local music ensembles loves showbizness and the attention it gives him.
Noted deejays Ike and Jasper spinned while the folklore musical group Umunna of Los Angeles did their own thing--the Mike Ejeagha akuko na egwu, folklore kind of stuff. It was electric. It was much, much better than the spraying money in your face and high fives of the notorious Coque Brothers.
Meanwhile, I had taken up a seat in the ballroom and had gone to the menu section to help myself with what the caterer Veronica had prepared for the event. I served myself a concoction from Veronica's menu table--rice, fried plantain, anu ewu (goat meat), moi-moi, fried fish, vegetables, kpof-kpof (call it donut if you like), okporoko, (stockfish) and you name it, I had it all. I sat at a corner with a couple of hometown buddies to do justice to my concoction, my own combination. Dealing with my dish and watching what was going on, Los Angeles area renowned MC Egbuho introduced UmuIgbo USA, uniformed and tantalizingly hot to perform for the evening.
As the second generation immigrants were ushered in to perform what has been rehearsed and choreographed for months, UmuIgbo USA arrived on stage in a standing ovation after the president's opening remarks which preceded Nigeria and America national anthem, making me ponder and questioning about Igbo "national" anthem. Perhaps that was beside the point since all that mattered was Mbieri fundraising and launching of its first almanac. The sensational group walked into the ballroom across the cobbled square, through the hallway, and onto the stage. Turning to the crowd, they bowed and sang. All eyes turned on them cheering and saying a new generation has arrived the shores of America. They were marvelous, up and adequate to the occasion.
Then followed formal opening of the floor by the high table coupled with "processional" entry of Nd'Mbieri in the kind of egwu ure, recalling my memories to the days of egwu umu ada and joyous festivities when culture was still intact. After the procession and dance, Umunna of Los Angeles performed live with breaks between songs. Every attendant shimmied to the beat of the band's original folklore, "making people happy and keeping the crowd dancing." Umunna's music gave me a feel for egwu agba ochie, the real vibe in the heydays of egwu onwa, moonlight plays, folklore and highlife music, and not the ridiculous money campaign, spraying money in your face performed by the ilk of Coque Brothers and the changed Stephen Osita Osadebe.
Then again, the president's speech and "launching, launching, launching," the time for charity and kind gestures, donations and vice versa. While donations and pledges were being made, a whole lot of shaking and hugging was going on, men and women snapped pictures while happy little children ran all over the place. It was a good feel of community. It was the feel of culture made whole and not "even the sum of parts" as Nobel Laureate Wole Soyinka once put it.
I can't describe how much my spirit was lifted. It looked like my boyhood days when we played the hide and seek game during conventions like this, and our parents will be sneaking out to the porch and everywhere looking for us. I left the ballroom totally satisfied that "culture is not parts, it is a whole and an entity."
"Them changes," and as it happened, I suspended my rock classic freaky behavior listening to Peter Frampton, Boston, Rolling Stones, Uriah Heep, The Allman Brothers Band, Thin Lizzy, Eagles, Aerosmith, AC/DC, The Doors, Beatles, David Bowie, Van Halen, David Lee Roth, U2, Rick Springfield, Journey, Rare Earth, Grand Funk, Pat Benatar, Triumph, Bad Company, ZZ Top, Blue Oyster Cult, Foreigner, Rod Stewart, Genesis, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Middle of the Road, Men at Work, Bob Miga's Strangers, John Cougar Mellencamp, Bruce Springsteen, Don Henley, Kim Carnes, Bob Seger and dedicated the month of April and May to the music of Paulson Kalu, Celestine Ukwu, Ali Chukwuma, Prince Nico Mbarga, Ikenga Superstars, Eddie Okonta, Ofo, Ozoemena nwa Nsugbe, Harcourt White, Peacocks, Rex Lawson, the old Osadebe, and Bright Chimezie for "culture is not parts, it is a whole."
On my way home,
egwu agba ochie, old school became my new cultural order as I flipped Nkengas in London CD with the masterpiece "Asampete Special" entertaining me all the way. "Culture is not parts, not even the sum of parts, it is an entity." I remembered that!
This article was exclusively published at
BNW Magazine in April 2003
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