Simon Ekpa's arrest is just the first domino to fall—soon, the house of lies built by Biafra's so-called liberators will collapse under its own weight of hypocrisy and violence.
Cracks
appear even in the toughest of walls, and when they do, the whole structure is
at risk of collapse. The recent arrest of Simon Ekpa in Finland is more than
just a crack; it’s a gaping fissure in the foundation of the Biafra
secessionist movement that he leads after the incarceration of Nnamdi Kanu. As
an Igbo man, I understand the profound grievances that have fueled the calls
for secession, but what these agitators are doing is nothing short of turning a
home into a battlefield—with Igbos paying the price. My question to Simon Ekpa
and those who follow this crusade is simple: is the destruction of our land,
the violence against our people, and the fear that grips our mothers and
fathers worth the supposed freedom you claim to offer?
Nnamdi
Kanu rose to prominence not because he was a skilled diplomat or even an
eloquent speaker. He emerged as a figure of defiance, tapping into a deep well
of resentment held by the Igbo people against decades of marginalization,
particularly since the aftermath of the Nigerian Civil War that ended in 1970.
Back then, an estimated one to three million lives were lost, mostly Igbos, and
the scars left by starvation and suffering remain unhealed. Many families still
remember what it was like to be labeled "rebels," and the word Biafra
invokes a tragic reminder of those dark times. However, rather than learn from
this history, Nnamdi Kanu and his protégé Simon Ekpa have been stoking the
embers of discontent, believing the best path forward is backward—towards more
division, more suffering, and more death.
The
central claim of these agitators is that Igboland has no future in Nigeria due
to systematic discrimination and economic suppression. And yes, the
frustrations are real. The lack of federal presence in the Southeast, limited
infrastructure development, and poor political representation are legitimate
issues that need addressing. But where Kanu and Ekpa miss the mark is in
believing that violence, threats, and isolation are the answers to these
challenges. Their version of freedom is built on burnt schools, closed markets,
and communities living in fear. Every Monday, residents of Anambra, Enugu,
Ebonyi, Imo, and Abia cower indoors, under the threat of violence for defying
the enforced curfew. This is not freedom. This is tyranny masquerading as
liberation.
Imagine
children trying to go to school on Mondays and being beaten by thugs claiming
to fight for their future. How ironic is that? Education, the foundation of any
hope for a better tomorrow, is halted in the name of a misguided rebellion.
Schoolchildren who should be learning about mathematics, history, and
literature are instead learning about fear, hiding, and survival. The irony
runs deep: in fighting against perceived injustice, the Biafra agitators are
inflicting the very injustice they claim to oppose—but this time, it is against
their own people.
Simon
Ekpa’s recent arrest by Finnish authorities shines a light on the hypocrisy and
criminality that runs deep in this so-called movement for liberation. Ekpa, who
sits comfortably in Finland, has been issuing orders for destruction back home
in Nigeria. The luxury of distance has given him the audacity to dictate how
people should live their lives in Igboland, while he is far removed from the
chaos he creates. It’s like throwing stones from a glass house, except the
stones are bombs, and the glass house is a fortress in Europe.
The
Finnish police, with their intervention, have acted on something that should’ve
been clear to all—you cannot claim to be fighting for the welfare of your
people while inciting violence that ruins their lives. Ekpa’s arrest isn’t just
a blow to his campaign; it’s a reality check that actions have consequences.
Finland, a country known for its welfare, peace, and stability, won’t allow one
of its residents to be a conductor of chaos thousands of miles away. Once the
wall begins to crack, the whole illusion of invincibility that these agitators
carry quickly crumbles.
Meanwhile,
back home, the unknown gunmen—a by-product of the Biafra agitation—continue to
make Igboland nearly uninhabitable. These so-called protectors of the people
engage in extortion, arson, and kidnapping. They’re not targeting corrupt
politicians or abusive soldiers; they’re kidnapping businessmen, traders,
school teachers, and even priests. They’re burning down shops belonging to
people who are just trying to make ends meet in a difficult economy. They claim
to be protecting Igboland, but how do you protect what you destroy? A popular
Igbo proverb says, “A na-agu nwa nkita onu ka o tuo onu n’oru” (The puppy is
taught to bark so it can guard the house). The question is, what good is the
barking if, in its rage, the dog bites the very people it’s supposed to
protect?
Kanu
and Ekpa have both failed to answer this essential question—what is their
endgame, and who stands to benefit from it? The road to Biafra, as they
envision it, is lined with fear, coercion, and suppression of dissent. If they
cannot tolerate dissent now—to the point of beating and extorting their own
kin—what kind of government would they establish if Biafra were ever realized?
Would they imprison anyone who dared question their authority? Would they burn
down businesses that refused to pay tribute? The truth is, the character of
these so-called leaders is revealed not in grand speeches but in the small,
daily actions they take—and those actions reveal them to be nothing but
opportunists, exploiting old wounds for personal gain.
Take
the case of Monday sit-at-home orders, for example. Ekpa issues these
directives with the ease of someone ordering take-out, oblivious to the real
consequences. Traders lose a day’s income, families can’t afford food, and
daily wage earners are left stranded. In cities like Onitsha and Aba, which are
hubs of economic activity, the impact has been devastating. What kind of
freedom movement destroys its own economic base? What kind of liberation
strategy is built on impoverishing those you claim to want to uplift? These
agitators are not revolutionaries; they are wrecking balls, demolishing
whatever progress we manage to build.
Furthermore,
this struggle for Biafra is not even representative of all Igbos. Many
Igbos—both in Nigeria and in the diaspora—want peace, investment, and progress.
They want better roads, functioning schools, and reliable healthcare. They want
the chance to vote in elections that matter, and to have their voices heard at
the federal level. They do not want to be ruled by the whims of a man issuing
commands from a cushy apartment in Finland, nor do they want to be subject to
the brutal enforcement of so-called ‘Unknown Gunmen.’ The struggle of the
common Igbo person is not with their Hausa or Yoruba neighbors; it’s with
poverty, lack of opportunity, and an indifferent government.
And
here lies the greatest tragedy of all—in their obsession with secession, Kanu
and Ekpa have taken the focus away from real, tangible change. Where are the
demands for improved infrastructure in the Southeast? Where is the pressure on
political leaders to deliver the dividends of democracy? Instead of channeling
the legitimate grievances of the people into productive political action, they
have chosen the path of destruction. They’ve turned our beloved Ala Igbo into a
battleground, not against any external oppressor, but against ourselves.
Simon
Ekpa’s arrest marks a turning point. Perhaps it’s time for Igbos to realize
that these false prophets of liberation are leading us astray. Perhaps it’s
time to tear down the walls of hatred they’ve built and focus on dialogue, on
development, and on finding a place for Igboland within a united Nigeria. Once
the wall begins to crack, it can come tumbling down—and in this case, that’s
exactly what we need.
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