Amongst the Igbos, the art of conversation is regarded so highly. And proverbs are the oil with which words are eaten. -- Chinua Achebe. Most times, I have continuously remained grateful to my Parents who trained me wholesomely. They taught and exposed me to what the modern world had to offer but never failed to expose me to the wisdom in the village, the ancients and culture which would automatically increase ones curiosity for more knowledge on Igbo Customs and Traditions as one gets older. Bia gee nti ebea ka I fu ka esi e kwu okwu, my dad would always compel me whenever he, his brothers, his friends, my grandfather, and my grandfathers agemates were gathered to discuss at evenings in our Ancestral Home in Ihiala. They would talk, argue, tease and laugh for many minutes and Id not be able to understand exactly what they are saying. They would seem to be enjoying their discussions and the sophisticated way they weaved their words. It was like they were acting a script and speaking the words of the scriptwriter. But they were not. The whole discussion would always appear like a drama to me, and Id be lost even despite my enjoying it. And whenever its my dads turn to speak in the discussion, I did look at him wondering when he practiced his own lines. Was it when he went to his shop in the day? Was it when he was inside the room with mum? I see him everyday, so when did he practice those lines loaded with wisecracks, anecdotes and proverbs? I struggled with the thoughts. But he never did. He just spoke from his mind like other discussants. The way they talked, one could imagine all of them to be good writers and orators. Yes, my dad planted that seed of consciousness that Amongst the Igbos, the art of conversation is regarded so highly long before I read it from Chinua Achebe. And it was true the Igbos never wasted words. My Mum did hers. She did it in a more subtle and psychologically painful manner. As an alternative to spanking or scolding me, Mum would, sometimes, drop a bombshell to me in a low voice when I misbehaved. You know the bombshell? Just a proverb! Shed always dust up her memory to dig out a proverb that would make me look foolish, as well as serve as a warning not to misbehave again. Of course, I wouldnt hurt my little ego asking her for the meaning. I wont ask Dad either. So, I visited my classmates who lived in the villages to ask for interpretation. For a whole week, Id be steeped into research. And Mum wouldnt know how she had condemned me to an unprepared assignment. Despite my being so little - (that should be in primary 1 or so) - Mum scorned me one day when I misbehaved: Onye na-abuni aso enu na-abusakwali onwe ya aso. It took me more than a year later to understand it fully that whenever you spit upwards, you will always spit at yourself; which explains why one shouldnt do things wrongly as not to hurt oneself. Yes, thats the extent Mum sparked off that curiosity for interpretation of proverbs and their understanding in me and siblings. As I got older and mixed with some of my fellow Igbos who grew outside the East like Lagos etc, I was always disappointed when they could hardly understand a simple proverb and the art of conversation in Igbo language, clearly because theyre limited in speaking their own Igbo language and therefore, limited in the Igbo words and vocabularies they knew. Thanks to their parents who foolishly thought they were doing them a favor speaking only English to them while they grew up in Surulere, Ikeja, Festac et al. My Dad and Mum can never be appreciated enough for that balanced foundation which they also considered before putting me and siblings in the different schools we attended. Everytime I chance on elderly people laughing and talking wisely like the Igbos do without wasting words, I remember Chinua Achebe and my most adorable Parents.
Posted on: Tue, 05 Aug 2014 17:44:05 +0000
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