Kalokalo Express

I had just missed my train ride to Umuahia. Quite unbelievable, as I had only just missed it by a whisker. I had not even finished the fresh “Tombo” palm wine that was promised at Ovim terminal when I heard the blaring horns from afar. The train was gearing to go. I had hurriedly hopped on the nearest “Okada” motorcycle and urged the driver to ride double as fast…..we only made it round a corner whilst looking ahead as the train made a slight turn towards the rolling fields on its way to Umuahia.

Life takes unexpected turns. Life, they say “is a roller coaster”….once you missed out on a vital part of life, it feels like a derailed train or better still, a missed one.

Like this train, Life had a way of throwing spanners into already laid works. I had the perfect valentine day planned out. That year, the Nigerian railway corporation had just relaunched the Enugu - Port-Harcourt shuttle with “mouth-watering packages” that promised to “wow” any couple.

“What another way to celebrate a loved one than taking her on a spin in our newly refurbished cabins, with state of the art in house luxury that will make her heart skip. See the rollings hills of Nkalagu, savor the warm taste of the freshest “Tombo” east of the Niger”…the flyer that caught my attention had read. Breathtaking views of rice fields in Ozara…..the flyer had continued but I had already made up my mind. I wanted the experience.

The train lived only to its promises….albeit to say for the first twenty minutes. The in-house bar had some chilled Guinness stout and some sort of fried meat dipped in tomato savory sauce….some light music in the background….all complimentary….a good start, as we rolled towards Agbani. The grace period had expired shortly as we approached the Nomeh terminal, the tracks were covered in grass and our train had stalled. We had probably spent the next two hours waiting for some advance team to clear the rails and restart engines. I had zoned out whilst the repairs went on, looking forward to the arrival at Ovim terminal, probably the only attraction that would salvage this near-doomed trip…..I was glad at this point that this had been an advance trip, a fact-finding one…..I was definitely not bringing her. Another mishap and I had shelved this plan forever……we had stalled once again, we had practically alighted from the train to push…..few yards I would say……jump start or kick start…..still cannot tell till this day.

My childhood friend and “bunkie” bunk mate Chisom Iwu “Pinnoto” grew up in Umuahia. Spencer Ndupu’s best friend, Obasi Mba also lived in that town, no surprise that it became I and Spencer’s home away from home.

It was a big surprise to read from some archive that Umuahia, a foremost eastern state was built to mirror Surrey, a suburb in the southeastern part of England where I was born. The hospital of the blessed Trinity, better known as Abbot’s hospital, founded by George Abbot, the then archbishop of Canterbury in 1619 still sat in majesty on Guildford high street, right opposite the holy trinity church. Its architecture and benevolence still echoing masterpieces of the old. A comparative hospital, if true to design was the Queen Elizabeth hospital Ibeku Umuahia which opened shop about 1945 or so on where lies the present day Aba Road, right opposite the guaranty trust bank.

A connection sure laid between Surrey and Umuahia.

Then again, Juliana Agbonma Akubuiro had trained in this foremost specialist hospital, class of ‘70 before jetting out to join my father in Scotland. She had, despite the war ravaging the southeastern part of Nigeria, Biafra at that time, the high handed European tutors, the strict missionary sisters that held sway in then nursing school,come out top of the class, first in the republic at that time and with eternal friendships she had developed with two other exemplary ladies, late Adeline Ugbaja, Stella Ahaonye, they had become role models to the young ladies in the village, who were all groomed to follow their footprints. She was “lady in white”, ”Sister”, “Miss”, “Mead”…endearing names by her people, names that placed her high above others. Many babies were named after her at that time and growing ones were told to emulate her….. A wonderful woman….my mother.

Many families that considered foregoing education and careers for their daughters at that time had a change of mind as Juliana and Adeline were a testament on how far a woman could go if armed with a bit of education…….A moving train

Ogechi, a cousin of mine had been married off early to the chagrin of all. She had been married off to some older man that was about sixty-five as at that time. Ogechi was a bit of a hot head at the tender age of sixteen and with a few loose ball incidents that had marred her growing. It was thought at that time to be of her best interest to be in a man’s house, settled and tamed. Again, the father had died, he would not have allowed such…..never….. but then resources were lean. It was also agreed that she would continue her education while been married. She needed her education to be rounded in her social skills….the husband-to-be was told. A consolation to the family was an expected social status incline as the man in question was a relative to the King of that village. She was to become the man’s second wife, “fresh blood” that stood to gain all if she gave him a male child. It was touted that she would get all the trappings of the royal family. No one foresaw what hole was dug for her future.

The schooling had stopped right afterward. Ogechi’s Kalokalo express had just derailed. “Girls married as children are more likely to drop out of school, have a low-paid job and limited decision-making power at home”

The first few months were a roller coaster for her. She was not prepared emotionally to handle the rigors of marriage, psychologically, she was incapable of withstanding the demands of a conjugal living. I remember visiting her with my elder brother back then, we were really scared of what possibly she could be going through. The husband was terribly jealous of any signs of youthful injection or influences around my cousin, he was wary of any moves that even exposed her to her likes. He was very insecure in the relationship that he built an imaginary wall blanketing Ogechi from the happenings of her outer self. There was some sort of abuse going on in that house that was unspoken, you could tell from her eyes whenever we visited. There was definitely something wrong. I remembered him livid with anger on seeing Chidi and me, thinking that we were a competition, we were mere cousins but the old fella was bent on enjoying his “fresh blood”, all by himself.

Then, Ogechi had gotten pregnant, further taking away chances of any form of formal education. Her train was been pushed, her life at a standstill. Her life now revolved around a budding belly, armed with scarce knowledge about her body and reproduction. She was further isolated from the outside world. I remember her husband mounting several spy posts along the market route to see if any man talked or spoke to her. I remember him from the stories that she told, how he would stay up all night querying if she slept around. She was mentally abused solely because of her age and mental incapacity to discern situations that arose. I remember those numerous times she had escaped her marital home, those days that she had sworn never to go back to that man. She complained so much about the man beating her up at several instances but no one believed her then. The man came running each time, with utmost assurances that it wouldn’t happen ever.

Ogechi had missed the Kalokalo express, her life would never be the same

The truth is that we had normalized situations like this, we had turned a blind eye to this anomaly over the years. It seemed a normal act these days for a young girl, fresh out of high school to be found in a man’s house as a wife. We had accepted it as a favorable expectation for our young girls. In the olden days, the reasons were solely economic whence these girls were married off so as to improve on the family’s fortune and finances. It was meant to pull out a family out of poverty, either in the short term or long ones. I know of some families that mortgaged their daughters’ futures for the sake of the boys/men in the family. The dowries accrued were used to start off businesses for the men. Gender inequality was brazen at that time, still is today but hidden under cloaks not readily appreciated to common eyes.

Our girls have been conditioned thereof to accept this sentence, they have been groomed to send forth their future for a temporary respite for their families. They were now considered well-taken sacrifices to redeem the family and sundry. Are we still in those eras?, were we still existing in the past when it had been proven over time that those practices were detrimental to the development of the girl child. Were we still in that era where their rights were trampled on?, an era where they did not have a choice to seal a better deal for themselves.

Despite a worldwide notion “Educate a woman, educate a nation”…We had yet to tow that route of making sure that the agents of change were empowered.

We were made for now……We now cannot see farther than our noses.

These things happen under our noses, day in, day out but the moral fabric of our society had been torn to shreds, we lack moral standings to pursue these challenges with vigor, we have more things that we considered higher up on the ladder, we were part of the rail tracks, making sure an ordinarily high-speed train derailed, making sure that the steel ricochets on the tracks split to railroad dreams into abysses.

We were made for now.

It Matters Period, as a social enterprise that strives to challenge norms that are detrimental to human existence, keeps showing resolve by championing discuses that move the ball a step down the lane. We have a lot of doubts about the present crop of youths. Our doubts need constant reassurance from within us, assurances that will stand the test of time. We need crusaders that will restore and piece together the shredded moral fabrics of our society.

We would start one at a time.

Target Mentoring Programs : There should be more stories of the likes of Juliana Akubuiro-Iwualla celebrated in villages. Stories of ladies like late Adeline Ugbaja, Helen Opara, who defied odds to become forerunners in the nursing profession should be highlighted on a regular basis to the children and young women in the locale. A host of other women in the community that shone like stars should not be forgotten. Their stories and endeavors should be incorporated as adjunct studies in the local curricular of schools. A culture where heroes were left unsung encourages a decadence in the aspirations of communities. The area of having mentors should be encouraged. Mentor-ship should once more become the way to go. Aspirations should be harnessed so as to maximize potentials among the girls in the village.

Improving Poverty Indices : Providing girls with equal access to quality education and allowing them to complete their studies will enable them to support themselves and lead fulfilling, independent lives. And we need to hear their voices by creating safe spaces and channels for them to speak up for what they want and speak out against harmful practices. Girls who are allowed to stay with their families and stay in school are able to more fully engage in society, to become financially independent, to care for their families, and themselves — and ultimately, to work toward ending poverty.{Daniele selby-Globalcitizen}.

Glass Ceiling breakers : We need to challenge norms that reinforce the idea that girls are inferior to boys and we need to empower girls to be their own agents of change. Laws and policies that frown at child marriages should be encouraged. Local watch groups should institute ways to remain vigilant, ready to report to authorities on suspected abuses. We should find ways to keep the girls longer at home.

Parents/Guardian buy-in : A targeted drive among parents and guardians should be constantly put in place so as to educate the parents on the merits of free will and aspirations, gains of empowerment and enlightenment. Proven cases should be used as manifestos as to encourage change in heart and decisions among those parents that are adamant in old ways.

Youth O’clock : The time is now to pick the mantle. The time is now to champion any goal that is proven to alleviate the downtrodden. The right time is now to crusade for those goals that mitigate against those ills in the society that deface humanity. The time is now to be the watchman, time is now to be the rail master….making sure each and every one of us hears the blaring horns of the train, preparing us ahead of time to be ready and providing easy access for each and everyone to have a seat in a moving train…..

It Matters Period

Uchenna Iwualla M.D