Laura Nnamdi: Igbo Is an Action Word

Dear Remi, 

Now Playing Beautiful Rain by the Cavemen. 

I have always wondered what I would be if I were not Igbo. Today, I finally got it. Mmụọ. I would be spirit. Don’t give me that look. But yes, I would not be of this realm. I would rather exist purely in the spiritual than take on flesh that does not wear beautifully against the skin like Akwete. I would rather roam the world free-formed than travel every Christmas to somewhere other than Mbaise. 

Remi, imagine my speech without the interjections of ‘Ngwa ngwa”? How else would one know I am on the journey to being patient, but not there yet? Hian! What pride would I have if not in the stereotypes that my people have so excellently flipped? 

“Igbo men and business! Igbo girls too like money!”

Remi, even you, don’t you like money? Is liking money a crime? We have turned the tables, working hard and doing great things while simultaneously steadily riding on the back of stereotypes. Verily verily, what the enemy meant for evil, God has turned it around for good. If I were not Igbo, I would be spirit, free from the restrictions of this flesh, yet marked so hauntingly with Nsịbịdị. It is ingrained in me, even if not visibly tattooed on my skin. 

Remi, do you know what it means to belong to a people who can weave emotions into fabric and clothe grief with music? People who bury the hatchet with palm wine-laughter spilling from different sizes of gap-toothed mouths? As annoying as it may be, I am grateful for Umuada, who will drink no other soft drink than that one brand. Sometimes I wonder what covenant they entered into with the manufacturers. 

What memories will I have if not those activated by the smell of damp August meeting wrappers buried deep under boxes and boxes of wrappers? I think of the women and…