The Ọka Civil War, November 1901 to June 1904.

The picture below shows the grim face of an Ọka warrior, posing for a photograph around 1911 for the Colonial anthropologist, Northcote Thomas. The war ‘helmet’ on his head was called okpu mpoto and was made from the dried stems of cocoyam plants. Okpu mpoto is actually tough enough to be resistant to machete cuts. This warrior’s identity is unknown, but he probably took part in a civil war that ended 6 or 7 years before this picture was taken: The Ọka Civil War, or the Amikwo-Agụlụ War.

Ọka Town consists of 7 quarters: Ayọm-na-Ọkpala, Nkwele, Amachala-na-Atọ, Ifite-Ọka, Ezi-Ọka, Amikwo and Agụlụ. But the war was only between two quarters: Amikwo and Agụlụ. The other quarters sat by and looked, or helped with relief materials for the destitute and took care of some of the wounded and the children.

What led to the war? Short answer: business rivalry. The men of Amikwo were specialised in medicine and blacksmithing; but the men of Agụlụ had only one specialty – blacksmithing. Both groups made their living among the Ịjọ people of the Niger Delta. In time, they began to lock horns in Ịjọland. Agụlụ claimed that they started going to Ịjọland first, and that therefore that field of operation belonged to them by right; that competition from Amikwo smiths there was hurting their business; and that Amikwo should either leave smithing and focus on medicine, or find their own field of operation, or stay back home in Ọka and do their thing there.

There was uneasy tension between the two quarters until 1898 or 1899 when the incident that ignited the flame of the civil war happened. It happened in far-away Agberi, near Nembe in Ịjọland. One Amikwo doctor-cum-smith whose name was Okeke Egbe was treating a sick Ịjọ girl. The girl got worse and died. Fearing the anger of the Ịjọ people, Okeke Egbe sneaked out of Agberi and ran back to Ọka.

Finding Okeke Egbe gone, the Ịjọ people vented their anger on all Ọka people in their midst, both Amikwo and Agụlụ, demanding that they produce the doctor or leave.

Okeke Egbe refused to go back to Agberi to face the wrath of the Ịjo, and his Amikwo brothers stood by him. Agụlụ people grew furious and declared that Ịjọland was now off limits to all Amikwo men, both doctors and smiths; either that or war. Amikwo people in return said they’d keep off, if Agụlụ agreed never again to plant a single seed in the soil by way of farming. Agụlụ laughed at the ‘joke’.

Each side began making preparations for war. They picked out their war generals. Okeke Omeligbo was elected war general for the Agụlụ side. Ezekwem Okafọ-Amarị was elected war general for the Amikwo side.

One of the richest, most powerful men in all of Ọka at the time was Ọzọ Dike Nwanchọ of Amikwo. When Dike Nwanchọ saw that war was inevitable between his quarter Amikwo and Agụlụ, this clever man, who had grown rich from trading in the Niger Delta and didn’t want any headless wars disrupting his business activities, expertly manoeuvred his lineage out of the impending crisis, leaving the rest of Amikwo to face Agụlụ alone, while he and his people remained neutral. Ọzọ Dike Nwanchọ was to become a warrant chief some years later under British rule, and was the grandfather of renowned scholar Professor Kenneth Dike, first indigenous vice chancellor of the University of Ibadan.

After a long period of taunts, kidnappings, failed negotiations, and fist-fights, shooting finally began one morning in November, 1901. Around 9 am of that day, gun men from Agụlụ showed up in Amikwo, firing their guns left, right and centre. Amikwo people quickly took cover. But two people were unlucky that day. A pregnant woman named Nwachi, thinking she could stop the fight, came out waving leaves in the air and asking the men of Agụlụ to put their guns down. A bullet ended her life. The same thing happened to a Nwa-Nri from Enugwu-Ukwu, who was based in Ọka, where he practised abomination-cleansing (ịkpụ alụ) and other ritual duties performed among the Ọka people by Ụmụ-Nri. His name was Ukulu. He too came out waving green leaves at the armed men; and he too was gunned down. The first heroes of the war.

Amikwo people quickly geared up; and when the Agụlụ forces returned the next day for another showdown, they found Amikwo ready. Amikwo men shot dead ten Agụlụ fighters before the Agụlụ beat a hasty retreat.

The war got serious pretty quickly. Day and night, Agụlụ warriors kept up the offensive, attacking Amikwo from all sides, never giving them breathing space, blocking the roads to their farms, hoping to starve them into submission. And they probably would have succeeded, if not for the food smuggled into Amikwo from the other quarters of Ọka, especially from Ezi-Ọka.

The turning point of the war came sometime in 1902 at a battle known as the Battle of Okokwu. The Agụlụ army made one determined move to capture the Ọfịamazụ Stream, which was the one source of drinking water for Amikwo. Amikwo understood that if Agụlụ took control of that stream from them, that was it; the war would be over. So they massed together all their fighting men and a desperate battle was fought on the banks of the stream. Many men fell on both sides, but in the end, Amikwo decisively beat back the Agụlụ forces and won the battle.
It was after this defeat that Agụlụ began to search for foreign allies and mercenaries to help them subdue their enemy and end the war.

The first allies Agụlụ reached out to were the warriors of Ụkpọ, a town near Nnewi. The men of Ụkpọ were brave fighters, renowned for carrying huge shields that protected them from head to foot. But they had one peculiarity (according to Ọka traditions): they never ate cocoyam, and kept strictly away from it. Ezekwem Okafọ-Amarị, the general of the Amikwo army, was informed about this peculiar food taboo of the Ụkpọ warriors, and decided to use it to his advantage. He ordered his men to wrap their bullets and other projectiles with the outer skin of cocoyam tubers. On the field of battle, the mercenaries from Ụkpọ quickly realised they were being fired at with guns loaded with bullets wrapped in cocoyam skins. They broke rank and fled. The first attempt at recruiting mercenaries failed; but Agụlụ tried again.

Agụlụ now sought military aid from the feared Arọ warlord of Ndịkeliọnwu named Okoli Ijoma. Agụlụ actually paid Okoli Ijoma the advanced fees for the recruitment of Edda/Ọhafịa warriors. Ezekwem, general of the Amikwo forces, also got wind of this arrangement and decided to foil it. Disguised as a woman, he successfully passed through enemy lines and went to Mbaukwu, to the house of one Akabọgụ, who was related to him by marriage, and who also happened to be a close friend of Okoli Ijoma, having married one of his daughters. Akabọgụ agreed to go with Ezekwem to plead with Okoli on his behalf to call off the intrepid Edda/Ọhafịa soldiers. Okoli agreed, on the condition that Amikwo should pay the balance of the fees that Agụlụ was yet to pay. Amikwo agreed. The second attempt at recruiting mercenaries thus failed.

It was at this point, around the beginning of 1903, that Amikwo decided that the war had dragged on long enough, and they were beginning to feel the economic pinch. In all this time, their men had been at home and not gone abroad on business as they were wont to. Their leaders deliberated and decided it was time to go on the offensive; they had been fighting a defensive war all along, waiting for the Agụlụ forces to come for them, rather than carrying the fight to Agụlụ.

Amikwo agreed to form an elite guerrilla unit, made up of the very youngest men, fresh out of boyhood. Its membership constituted of men as young as 18; the oldest members were not over 25. They were handpicked, brave, well-trained by older veteran fighters and in all numbered just about forty. They were called Mgbankịtị, the Silent Ones, because when they were out on a mission, they spoke to no one and moved very stealthily, making not as much as a sound. To illustrate how ‘stealthy’ they could be: on one mission, some Mgbankịtị boys, came to the house of Nwakọ Udegbe, a wealthy Agụlụ man in whose house the Agụlụ leaders held war consultations. The boys went to his garden, dug up all his yams, and before they carried them away, they defaecated right in front of his gate; and all the while no one in the compound knew they were there. The message had been passed: We could have killed you all while you deliberated, but we chose not to.

In late 1903, war-weary and exhausted, Agụlụ warmly welcomed European Christian evangelists to their quarter in the hope that the Europeans would aid them in their war against Amikwo. The famous Reverend George T. Basden, author of the anthropology book, Among the Igbos of Nigeria, was one of the missionaries that came to Ọka around this period, and left a brief account of the war. Agụlụ were disappointed, for the preachers had no intention whatsoever in taking part in the fight. The reports written by these missionaries show clearly that the Amikwo people, with the help of their new guerrilla unit, had the upper hand in the war in 1903. Part of Agụlụ had been burnt down and several of its men killed.

Finally, in 1904, the people of Agụlụ Quarter made one last desperate move. They sent a delegation to Asaba (headquarters of the British Protectorate of Southern Nigeria) through Walter Kwọchaka Amobi, the future Igwe of Ogidi and, at the time, a British Agent, to invite British soldiers to come intervene in the war on their behalf. Coincidentally, the British Government was at that time already making plans to send a military expedition into the region. In June, 1904, the British soldiers led by Major Moorhouse arrived and put an end to the two-and-a-half-year-old civil war. Ọka did not resist. The war was over, but Ọka also lost its sovereignty.

[Based on the description of the war in “The Awka People” by Amanke Okafor.]

Proud awka boy

Mehn, those people go ignorant compared to today’s standard. I cannot imagine that helmet being comfortable in any way or form. I wonder how the story was documented when many Africans were not known to write before colonialism.

Someone actually sat down, did the research and put this article together. If you've ever done any writing, you'd know how time-consuming and tasking it can be. To circulate it without credit to the writer is wrong.

And yes, I wrote this. I'm sure my name was displayed on whatever platform you lifted it from.

meobizy:
I wonder how the story was documented when many Africans were not known to write before colonialism.

This was a war that took place at the turn of the 20th century. There were still some eye-witnesses around in the 1960s and even 1970s.