Ojukwu, Biafra And The Power Of Failure By Olugu Olugu Orji Nearly a decade ago, I had the privilege of a most profound experience. I was with a friend who was gravely ill. I knew she was dying, and to make the scenario even testier, she knew it too. Now, that’s one position I pray never to find myself in again; ever. But if you were to be confronted with such a situation, my honest advice will be: don’t pass it up. You’re going to learn valuable lessons that will last you a lifetime. In my own case, I was sorely tempted to scram, but happily, I didn’t.   Let’s call my friend Nelly. Nelly was at least five years older than I was. Our strange relationship had developed around the fact that she’d recruited me to mentor her kid brother who was two years my junior in secondary school. She tended to treat me then like an adult that I barely was. On my part, I went to great lengths to earn that confidence. That we hailed from the same community made my task much more arduous. Nelly was in a relationship with a fellow I considered not exactly deserving of her. I did a masterly job of keeping that opinion to myself. Two years after I graduated from the university, Nelly and Gunky were married. Three beautiful children arrived in quick succession. A midwife/nurse by profession, she quickly progressed in her career. Everything seemed to be looking up for her, but she wasn’t a happy woman. Gunky obviously never really loved her. You don’t bruise and batter someone you love and care for. Abusing her was his highest sport. Because Nelly still loved and respected him, she refused to complain to anyone. But it was just a matter of time before her ordeal became common knowledge. Yet every attempt to intervene proved fruitless. In the fifteenth year of this tasteless marriage, she was diagnosed with cancer. As fate would arrange it, she was referred to the National Hospital, Abuja. For the eight months she spent in and out of hospital, undergoing all manner of treatment and procedures, my family and I were deeply involved. One fateful day, I was alone with her in the hospital and she seemed to be her usual chirpy self. She told me about Uzoma, a young man also from our community I liked very much. He had also expressed his desire to marry her. That certainly was news to me. The reason she declined was that dumping Gunky at that point would have cast her as callous and a gold digger. Uzoma was more financially endowed; and having gone out with Gunky for over ten years, she felt compelled to stick with him. A cousin of hers, whose marriage had recently crashed, and who saw no good in Gunky, had encouraged her to follow her heart. She’d spurned that counsel. (continue reading)
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Ojukwu, Biafra And The Power Of Failure

By Olugu Olugu Orji

Nearly a decade ago, I had the privilege of a most profound experience. I was with a friend who was gravely ill. I knew she was dying, and to make the scenario even testier, she knew it too. Now, that’s one position I pray never to find myself in again; ever. But if you were to be confronted with such a situation, my honest advice will be: don’t pass it up. You’re going to learn valuable lessons that will last you a lifetime. In my own case, I was sorely tempted to scram, but happily, I didn’t.  

Let’s call my friend Nelly. Nelly was at least five years older than I was. Our strange relationship had developed around the fact that she’d recruited me to mentor her kid brother who was two years my junior in secondary school. She tended to treat me then like an adult that I barely was. On my part, I went to great lengths to earn that confidence. That we hailed from the same community made my task much more arduous.

Nelly was in a relationship with a fellow I considered not exactly deserving of her. I did a masterly job of keeping that opinion to myself. Two years after I graduated from the university, Nelly and Gunky were married. Three beautiful children arrived in quick succession. A midwife/nurse by profession, she quickly progressed in her career. Everything seemed to be looking up for her, but she wasn’t a happy woman. Gunky obviously never really loved her. You don’t bruise and batter someone you love and care for. Abusing her was his highest sport. Because Nelly still loved and respected him, she refused to complain to anyone. But it was just a matter of time before her ordeal became common knowledge. Yet every attempt to intervene proved fruitless.

In the fifteenth year of this tasteless marriage, she was diagnosed with cancer. As fate would arrange it, she was referred to the National Hospital, Abuja. For the eight months she spent in and out of hospital, undergoing all manner of treatment and procedures, my family and I were deeply involved.

One fateful day, I was alone with her in the hospital and she seemed to be her usual chirpy self. She told me about Uzoma, a young man also from our community I liked very much. He had also expressed his desire to marry her. That certainly was news to me. The reason she declined was that dumping Gunky at that point would have cast her as callous and a gold digger. Uzoma was more financially endowed; and having gone out with Gunky for over ten years, she felt compelled to stick with him. A cousin of hers, whose marriage had recently crashed, and who saw no good in Gunky, had encouraged her to follow her heart. She’d spurned that counsel.

(continue reading)

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