Obi Ndi Uka: the beginning

By

Obododimma Oha

Today, I remember my childhood. One aspect of my childhood I remember with gladness in particular is a discourse about church as an arbiter, obi ndi ụka, (literally “the mind of the church person” or “a Christian spirit...”). As children, we fought a lot over trivialities, but we quickly made up and became friends again, sharing the little chewables we could find: stale groundnuts, bean cakes, pieces of bread, biscuits, candies, chewing gum, etc. These were tempting and there was obi ndi ụka standing nearby, waiting to settle quarrels and convince us to share. Obi ndi ụka welded a community of sharers; it was only adulthood that came later to turn the soup sour, to make the quarrel last long and put heavy luggage on tender hearts. It was hard-hearted adulthoood that knew the difference between sin and righteousness, Heaven and Hell. But as children, the law was obi ndi ụka: it quickly settled quarrels and gave us justice.

How was obi ndi ụka able to work the magic? Two children would have a disagreement, maybe a fight, and a third party would come forward and throw the obi ndi ụka challenge (considering the mind of the Christian in the matter) and that would be the reason to forgive. Obi ndi ụka was what one subscribed to in the catechism class. One would not like to miss Heaven because of another person and because of a little difference. So, one quickly forgave. One had to do obi ndi ụka in the matter, not that one had accepted being treated unjustly or being cheated. One just had to do obi ndi ụka, to show that there was a difference, to suffer injustice, hoping that God was taking note. Doing obi ndi ụka was obviously a way of scoring moral points and moving on. It was the mind of the just, the mind of God. In that case, only the Devil would not do obi ndi ụka. Simply this: the Devil must be hard-hearted, we imagined. We would not like to be like the Devil! 

It was considered strange, very strange, for one to be a Christian and not have obi ndi ụka and not be able to do obi ndi ụka. What kind of Christianity was that? It puzzled us and we just had to make sure that we did obi ndi ụka, and God was always the witness.

Maybe we were very naive and obi ndi ụka was a simplistic interpretation of the Christian attitude. Maybe it was because of that naivety that adults have to struggle with camels to enter the eye of a needle but children are warmly welcome to sit beside the son of God. Maybe our witness is our witness, standing beside the evidence!

How that discourse of obi ndi ụka easily becomes  a way of seeing things and looking at the world differently. It was because of obi ndi ụka that we were able to be playmates, sharers, and people who could watch the other’s back as we stole mangoes or roamed the bushes and shot noisy squirrels. It was because of obi ndi ụka that we were able to be one, even though from various homesteads. Obi ndi ụka was a major law, our major guide. To lose it was to lose one’s way.

Come to think of it, obi ndi ụka was a special logic, the reason for a reason. What reason was greater than a reason? There has to be a reason behind a reason. Call it “super-reason.” That “super-reason” is superior and over-riding. We were its subjects.

Indeed, invoking the authentic mind of the church person was a way of confessing that there is a difference between a fake and a genuine one. Who would not want to be intepellated and governed by the genuine one? Who would not want to take sides with it? Who would want the inability to idenitfy with genuine become the reason for losing? Not me! And so, one was wholly for obi ndi ụka and supported its intervention.

It is interesting how that discourse brought peace. Fighters made up and became friends again. No more aggression. No more conflict, at least at that point. All  were for the other. It was the order of obi ndi ụka. But selfishness belonged elsewhere. One community of children; one principle of obi ndi ụka.

Has obi ndi ụka just travelled? I can’t seem to see that beautiful fellow at home! Where have you gone, obi ndi ụka? Children of this and that homestead are looking for you. They want you to touch them. They want you to guide them. They want you to help them to form community. They want to have a “super-reason.”