Many years ago, I found myself in Nsugbe as a student of the community’s famous College of Education. By the way, Nsugbe is a quiet town in Anambra East Local Government Area of Anambra State. As an agrarian community, the people love farming.
They also do a little of fishing because of their proximity to the River Niger. I still feel the warmth of those good days anytime I remember the Otite Yam Festival which holds around this time every year. Usually, people would come from far and near with their friends to mark the festival.
Earlier in the year, I returned to Nsugbe after several years to pay my last respect to a father- figure who assisted me in those days, only to discover to my chagrin, an unusual development in the community. Nsugbe has lost those virtues and accolades that once made it the envy of its neighbours. My host, a great brother and friend with whom I had navigated the town in those good old days was more explicit. “My town has lost its innocence and the glory has departed.”
What struck me first was the brazen use of cannabis, otherwise known as Indian hemp by the youths of the town. My shock later turned to sympathy as I watched the young smoke brazenly on the streets. I also observed that hemp smoking had become a fad among the town’s growing army of unemployed youths. This, naturally became a source of worry for the people of Nsugbe, particularly the aged who are witnesses to the drama that plays out almost every minute in the place..
Apart from alleged pilfering and burglary, there have been incessant incidents of rape and harassment of innocent visitors by the youths. Usually, the youths target burial and wedding ceremonies because such occasions attract a a large number of people from within and outside the community.
Literally Nsugbe is under siege. The people have been held hostage by a small group of irresponsible young men who live under the strong influence of hard drugs and alcohol. They wake up in the morning looking for what to steal or who to devour. Domestic animals that roam the streets freely are not spared from the onslaught. Farms and private plantations are routinely ransacked and crops and livestock carted away. Unfortunately, the police in Nsugbe appear to be helpless.
Unfortunately, the police have not done much to restore public confidence and I understand that they have no apologies. As I watched with a heavy heart during that burial ceremony, the tragedy that had befallen Nsugbe, certain thoughts crept into my mind. I am afraid the situation might deteriorate. Already, many of the prominent natives of the town have gone on self-imposed exile. The situation is really bad and I doubt if a quick solution is in sight.
An elderly woman once told me on the eve of my departure from Nsugbe how a team of policemen raided the town a few months ago and arrested some of the youths. After spending some days in police detention, they were reportedly handed over to operatives of the National Drug Law Enforcement Agency, NDLEA, for prosecution. To the shock of many of the indigenes, the boys soon returned to Nsugbe after it was alleged that money had changed hands. In fact, they came back celebrating and boasting that they were untouchable. According to them, they could always buy their freedom from security operatives, whatever was the cost.
This incident, I gathered, had an instant devastating impact on the entire community and its people. Fear returned to the town. Apart from the fact that the criminals became more emboldened, it also served as a tacit endorsement of criminality in the community.
This piece was actually inspired by these disturbing developments. I love Nsugbe, no doubt and I am sad at the gradual loss of almost everything that the people once held dear. Nsugbe is like other communities in the South-east crying for help. Meanwhile, I have already told some of my friends in the town to convoke a conference that would address the issue of insecurity because it is an enemy of progress.
As bad and hopeless as the case appears, it is not irredeemable and there could not have been a better time than now as tomorrow may be too late. I wish them all good luck.
Echezonam, an educationist writes from Umuahia
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