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Patience Akpan-Obong

The poet wrote: “Ask not for whom the bell tolls … for it tolls for you and me.” Few people are immune from this madness. A highly placed traditional ruler in the community (whose name is withheld for his own protection) showed me a specially made bench that he takes to the bush each night to sleep. In the short time that I was at his home, his eyes were constantly alert for people passing outside his wrought iron gate. He would pause in the middle of a sentence to ask his son to see who was at the gate. One could see the terror in the man’s eyes especially as the evening approached and my companions and I were still at his home. His fear is not unfounded: he has had two attempts on his life in the past two months.

This bell tolls for all of us
by Patience Akpan-Obong

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A chief in one of the villages in Abak, Akwa Ibom State, was murdered by hired gunmen on Nov. 28, 2007. His name was Chief Timothy Titus Akpan, aged 63. He was my father. However, this is not about one man whose serene evening was shattered by the sounds of gunshots. This is about how a gang of idle miscreants and their sponsors are laying siege to a community. It is about the reign of terror, hate, lawlessness and wickedness that continue unabated in peace-time democratic Nigeria. It is about the Darfur in our backyard. My father’s assassination is an intensely personal tragedy, but it is also political. Political intervention is therefore required before more lives are lost and an entire community is exterminated. In the past, the police have stayed away from the conflicts in the community claiming that it is political. It is indeed political but it’s also personal as my people have to deal with the terrorism on a daily basis. In the few days that I have been home, I have spoken and listened to several people. I have cried myself hoarse but very little of my tears is for my father. My heart is breaking for my community – for people living in the shadow of terrorism and death, and for a village that has become a ghost town. Most of the people have left. Those who have no where else to go lock up and leave their homes as soon as dusk sets in. Many routinely sleep in the bushes. There are stories of people beaten up randomly at the busy Afaha Obong Junction – an intersection of three major roads connecting Abak, Ikot Ekpene and Etim Ekpo local government areas. While some of these attacks are armed robbery, others are just for the sheer joy of killing without consequence or conscience. There are also stories of women being gang raped in broad daylight, sometimes in the middle of the road. Passersby look the other way, grateful that they or their relatives are not the ones screaming and writhing helplessly on the ground. The poet wrote: “Ask not for whom the bell tolls … for it tolls for you and me.” Few people are immune from this madness. A highly placed traditional ruler in the community (whose name is withheld for his own protection) showed me a specially made bench that he takes to the bush each night to sleep. In the short time that I was at his home, his eyes were constantly alert for people passing outside his wrought iron gate. He would pause in the middle of a sentence to ask his son to see who was at the gate. One could see the terror in the man’s eyes especially as the evening approached and my companions and I were still at his home. His fear is not unfounded: he has had two attempts on his life in the past two months. The journalist in me has been asking the “Why” question. I have spoken with several people and I am confounded by the complexity of the issues. Following is a brief background to contextualize the situation. I introduce two villages, Nna Enin, one of 24 villages in Afaha Obong clan, and Nto Otong, one of 17 villages in Midim clan both in Abak local government area of Akwa Ibom State. For more than 30 years now, the two villages have squabbled over land matters. The conflict took a violent turn in 2006, ironically over an unrelated issue. A group of young people in Nto-Otong formed a Mafia-style gang with the sole purpose of harassing, terrorizing and extorting money from people. Their victims included both locals and those passing through to other parts of the state. Afaha Obong Junction became a danger zone as people were routinely robbed, beaten and subjected to various forms of indignities. The situation escalated when the hoodlums kidnapped and tortured a village head from one of the villages in Afaha Obong. A group from Afaha Obong retaliated by ransacking Nto Otong and burning down houses - especially those on the main road and homes of suspected sponsors of the thugs. In the midst of the rampage that lasted several days, a contender to the village headship of Nto Otong was killed. It is not clear if he was killed by Afaha Obong or if rivals to the contested post took advantage of the confusion. The police never investigated it thus allowing speculations to run wild and settle on my village for three simple reasons: we are fewer in population, we are next door and we are Nto Otong’s familiar “enemy.” Nto Otong seized on this opportunity to pursue their 32-year-old agenda of pushing my people out of their land. As head of the village, my father became the unfortunate target. On August 25, a week before the burial of the Nto Otong elder (who incidentally was my mother’s cousin), his brothers and cousins came looking for my father to kill. My people, who were getting ready to leave the house for the night, ran into the bush behind the house. Empty red bullet shells were lying around my father’s compound when I was home in December 2006. A back wall is still pocked with gunshot marks. In 2007, the local divisional police officer initiated a peace process between Afaha Obong and Nto Otong. While this was a positive development, a key element – investigating the murder of the Nto Otong elder – was overlooked. Also conspicuously absent from that peace process was a solution to the perennial conflict between Nna Enin and Nto Otong. In this respect, the peace agreement was premised on an extremely shaky foundation. There seemed to be a naive expectation that the general peace would trickle down to the specific issues between the two villages that predated the 2006 crisis. But my father was optimistic about the prospects of the peace deal. When I spoke with him about it on Nov. 22, he said “all is well now.” My last words to him were, “Papa, please be careful, okay? Take good care of yourself.” He told me not to worry because “My life is in God’s hands.” Six days later, he was killed as he relaxed in the evening in the living room with my mother and younger brother. Both my mother and brother were also shot (though I didn’t know about my mother’s injury until I got here). On Nov. 28, 2007, it was my father but the bell tolls for all of us. According to the police, Akwa Ibom State has the highest homicide rate in the country. There are stories of parents killing their little children and children killing their parents on accusations of witchcraft. People have killed others during squabbles over N40. A debtor has sent hired gunmen to kill his creditor because he felt insulted for being asked to pay back the debt. The list goes on. We have sent a petition to both the inspector general of police, Sir Mike Okiro, and Akwa Ibom Commissioner of Police, Mr. Michael Zuokumor, asking for the arrest of my father’s killers, not so much because we want justice but to ensure they do not hurt us again. Also, their arrest will deter other thugs and “area boys” from continuing to hijack the peace in the community, killing, robbing, raping and holding everyone in the grip of fear. We have also asked for a police station in our community to maintain the peace. Beyond the judicial solution is the need for executive (political) action. Governor Godswill Akpabio is endearing himself to the people by focusing on what really matters to them – roads and rural electrification. This is commendable, but may I suggest that peace is as basic as roads and electricity. Without peace, the roads are leading to ghost towns and villages and the electricity will only provide illumination for thugs to find their way to more raping and killing and plundering. We definitely do not need the dubious award of being the state with the highest homicide rate in the country. It should not be business as usual in Uyo while the rest of the state dissolves into Darfur. Specifically, the governor owes my family. If he had stepped in earlier, my father would be alive. My father’s nickname was “prince of peace.” Nothing will ever bring him back. I will be consoled however if his assassination ushers in real sustainable peace in my community. Then, the personal will truly become political.

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