How I became a chief

A while back I received an unexpected letter; the Eze (King) of Umuaga Nguru, Ngor Okpala, Imo State had decided to give me a chieftaincy title during the celebration of his 30 years on the throne. It seems that his son, who I met while working as a volunteer in Kubwa, was so awed by my life as a volunteer and my joy in living among the people (and my 5 words in Igbo language) that he decided to tell his father about me*. To make a long story short: on Saturday the 30th of August I was to be made a chief in Imo State.
That was the beginning of the story, but as always in Nigeria it was not nearly the beginning.
A the beginning there was the journey. By big bus this time, slow but safe. Slow became an understatement when we needed over 2 hrs to pass a truck that had fallen in an inconvenient corner of a muddy road. The entire journey lasted over 13 hrs as a result, but “luckily” there was the entertainment of the onboard pastors/ stand-up comedians/ miracle doctors who were educating the masses hoping to sell their particular products. Number 1 declared that honey was the answer to everything and is used by oyibos to put on their breasts, number 2 said that drinking crude oil helps against all ailments, and number 3 insisted that 1. Israel is the only country without hospitals and that 2. the quality of sperm could only be improved with the help of Jesus (and of course some strange-looking medicine sold by the man).
When I finally reached Owerri the prince put me in a guesthouse and exhausted I went to sleep. After all, I had to be ready by 8 the following morning.
8.00 I am ready
8.15 a phone call: “no traffic before 10am so we’ll come to pick you up after that.”
10.15 departure to the village, or actually...
10.30 at the market to buy a crown
11.00 back at the hotel. Reason for this not clear.
11.30 departure to the village.
12.00 official start of the ceremony
12.20 arrival in the village and entrance in the palace. While passing the venue ground it is clear that nothing will happen there soon and that this is clearly a typical Africa Time event.
At the palace I meet the King who is 80 yrs old and as fit as a fiddle. A nice man who speaks fluent English, who has the eyes of someone who enjoys life, and who is catholic –special because most traditional rulers still have traditional beliefs. Having that said: “they” will make sure it won’t rain that afternoon. Juju is still very much part of tradition! Anyway, I give my gifts, meet some people I know from Kubwa, wait in the throne room together with some ancient chiefs, have friends join me, get food when the waiting is taking centuries, see the rain fall, and keep waiting. Africa Time. By about 3pm it finally starts though.
In the palace we first have the ceremony with the cola nut. Especially the Igbos have many ceremonies around the cola nut and luckily my friend translates since “the cola only speaks Igbo”. I eat the bitter nut, hoping it will keep me awake during the rest of the day. We then move in convoy to the ceremonial ground, in the centre of the village. Because the day coincides with the annual women’s meeting, all the women are dressed the same which is quite a sight. All the Eze’s take place on sofas, the lesser chiefs and everyone else sits on plastic chairs and the programme full of speeches starts. Everything is in Igbo language, but since I have attended many official events by now, I understand more or less what they are saying.
When the other candidates for a title and myself stand up, we have to sit down within a minute again; the car with the ceremonial artefacts has gone missing. So we look a little bit less dignified the second time we stand in line, but despite all the Africa Time, wahala and general chaos, I feel more honoured than I anticipated. The king places a necklace around my neck, the queen puts a bracelet over my wrist and it’s topped with a crown placed by the king. All the while he speaks of how I am now one of them, a Nigerian, one of the family. As tacky as the crown may be, I do feel a bit emotional about it all. Afterwards I shake hands with the other chiefs in a special way, a sort of special handshake, which makes me feel even more part of this beautiful bunch of people.
Later that evening I have champagne with my friend who had flown over from Lagos and we are sitting in a luxurious hotel bar in Owerri. I would almost forget the events of the day because of this completely different scene until the barman, seeing my necklace and bracelet, calls out “you are a chief!” in utter disbelief.
The next day another 13-hour journey awaits me. This time because of a flat tire and a “small mechanical problem” (the journey should last 9 hrs normally). The entertainment this time consists of Nollywood movies. The entire bus comments on the events in the film and especially the women shout their disgust when the “oyibo wife” in a film called “the spirit of love” refuses to cook for her man. If my bus were a small version of society, it is clear that women stop all change and that the men are not concerned as long as they are fed. Meanwhile I sit there knowing that the same society can honour a woman for being just herself. And for those of you who were wondering: I did not pay one single naira for the honour.
It was a weekend I will not easily forget and while I look at my crown that is too tacky to be true, I can only think “thank you”.
With regards,
Chief Thessa :-)
*because I always ended my texts to the prince with “ciao, Thessa” the letter was addressed to “ciao thessa” thereby making me and my friends believe i would become “chief ciao”. Not everybody knows Italian, clearly...