A Gbanjo Trader, Once Upon a Time

by

Obododimma Oha

Have you encountered a real gbanjo trader armed with a bell and his sweet tongue, inviting attention to his goods on the ground? "Gbanjo" is a Yoruba word  for what the English would call "auction," but that gives us a poor translation, for a "gbanjo" person does some other things. The Igbo would call this "gbanjo" something like "mgbuka" (cutting to bits or pieces) (alternatively, "ire na ntụ," or "selling as ash thrown away")  but this near-synonym is not acceptable to us, for "mgbuka" has something derogatory about it. The "gbanjo" person is not really "cutting it into bits," as the Igbo name sugggests. Anyway, the Igbo derogatorily refer to the "gbanjo" businessperson as "onye mgbuka." Also, in their naming is the implication that "onye mgbuka's" goods are of low and terrible quality. But we know that superior goods could feature in "onye mgbuka's" heap. Which is why this article partly reveals the slippery wisdom we used as "gbanjo" businesspeople once upon a time.

In my own part of Igboland, children are trained to be self-reliant. Right from infancy, they are exposed to the idea of struggling to be a success on one's own. So, when I was just a child, I was a dealer in kerosene and would return from school only to head for the market with my galon of kero and beer bottles for measuring the fluid for buyers. I used to have a strategic location in the marketplace, so that buyers would easily see me and my ware. This required being sharp-eyed to see when a bottle is approaching or when a bottle is hiding in a bag, especially if there were other competitors selling kero. But I supplemented this with going round and picking the bottles and knowing each owner, to ask the owner to pay later at nightfall when going home. So, one was used to making money by this means, or joining adults in their contributions in meetings which would be shared before a major feast like Christmas.

What it means is that one could approach the feast richer and could buy things for oneself. What gave joy like a shirt or footwear one gets for oneself? That was a special wear! And the feast was a special one!

So, one was already used to the culture of self-reliance which came up now and again. it was in the spirit of this culture of self-reliance that, during our long vacation, when I was only going to Class Three in the secondary school, I went to spend the "holidays" with a cousin who was a "gbanjo" trader in Imo State in Nigeria. In the one room that he shared with other traders, I was asked to find a corner and to occupy it. I did so. The "house" was in the heart of a market and its walls were made of zinc. That kind of house was called a "batcher." Well, my gbanjo cousin did not even mind.

In a few minutes, he explained their frugal ways: we had to go a kilometer away to fetch water in the night, we had to buy supper and it could just be leftovers of things, we had to sweep the premises, the landlady came once in a while  and was a fighter; in fact, as a no-nonsense woman, she could pour acid on anybody (something I witnessed once!), our toilet was that open street! And so on.

Over to the real "gbanjo" experience. On a marketday somewhere in the vicinity (provided the ware was ready and waiting), one would leave very early to get a ride at the back of a pickup van with some market women. The ride could be hard and challenging, but when one got to the market, one would quikly jump down or be helped to do so. One could  get cramps after such a long and uncomfortable ride. But that was to be expected and was just an exercise or personal training.

Then, to the heart of the market on arrival. One spread one's nylon on the ground, brought out one's bell, and one's carton of wares. Then one went to the food sellers to buy breakfast and eat it fast. Time waited for nobody. After that, one had to pretend to be a buyer and confirm at the shops the prices of the wares that one brought.  If one brought camphor and a wrap was ten kobo in the shops, one cut one's price to five kobo. That was it.

When the selling began and the "gbanjo" business person was with the bell inviting attention with some sweet words or drama, even those in the shops would come to buy and resell later. They could buy in large quantities. that meant more gain. Their logic was that, instead of going to Onitsha to buy which could entail offering bribe to police on the way (apart from other risks), the best thing was to buy from the "gbanjo"  trader. Let the "gbanjo" trader carry or take away the many risks.

To say the least, the profit was not much for us as "gbanjo" traders but before long we were ready for home, ready for another market elsewhere in the state, collecting our little profits. Those who wanted to sell a wrap of camphor (which may be discoloured at point due to age) for ten kobo could wait for buyers for months or even years. The "gbanjo" businessperson had moved on.

The next day, the "gbanjo" businessperson living in a "batcher" would climb into another crowded truck and head for another market in the local community. But one was not worried since one was sure of making little money during the holidays and buying things for oneself.

I remember these "gbanjo" days with great pride. Today, as an elite person, one has to live a life of falsehood, giving the young ones the wrong impression that going to school means depending on other people for life. Nonsense. One is here on earth on one's own. If one chooses not to struggle, it could be terrible and worse tomorrow. Onyemaechi? Who really knows tomorrow?

The End of Speech

by

Obododimma Oha

Think of an absurd situation in which people have to carry their ideas and things they want to talk about as enormous luggage on their heads. When they meet other people and want to talk to them, they carry down the luggage and start gesticulating. The kind of absurd situation Lemuel Gulliver describes in his encounter with the people of Laputa.

As you may argue, this kind of world is inconceivable and can only give stalled transactions. But it seems acceptable to institutions that privilege silence, or encourage people to speak less. It could particularly appeal to bee-keepers (who have to maintain silence when approaching honey-bee hives, to avoid upsetting the bees and getting stung). But human beings have to disturb the air acoustically and attach meanings to the sounds they produce, which they call speech.

 Interestingly, too, experts on sound production in  humans tell us  that that kind of process of attaching meanings to sounds comes much later in human development. In fact, they argue that the production of sounds as  a form of communication with other agents is a secondary function of the organs we assign to speech production. They inform us that the so-called speech organs (lips, tongue, mouth cavity, nostrils, etc) were primarily designed by nature to serve our feeding and survival and not for speech, that speech was added by us later. That means that those parts of the body were trained later to produce some sounds and their transformations! So, speech, you are still a late-comer, and should be prepared for the treatment mapped out for late-comers!

Well, it looks like speech has got into trouble out there where functions are strictly policed, maybe partially for coming late. It has got into trouble with those processes with which it has to share the air, like air-borne diseases and their relatives. One may be making light a very tragic situation in the COVID-19 experience if one links up the wearing of protective masks to that idea that speech is a late-comner who has to wrestle to get out of the luggage people carry to communicate ideas and the frightening possibility that it is in trouble in sharing the air and may come to a bad end.

Am I protecting my speech (maybe falsehood or non-chalance) or protecting my life when I wear the mask? Please, I am for safety and not dying due to carelessness, but one has been trained to examine life, for, as the ancient Greeks used to say, "An unexamined life is not worth living." Let us help speech to survive the pandemic, too, for the pandemic seems to force people to mask the exposed parts also used for speech.

If one protects one's speech and prevents it from being infected through the spreading of fear, fake news, and conspiracy theories, one is not doing the objectionable. The fact that modern life involves a deluge of information, which one also has to sort frequently, is itself a pandemic. Many are killed by information that pursues them here and  there. If one has to survive the news pandemic, one has to be in charge of one's mind and not submit easily to everything conveyed in language on the Internet.

I feel strongly for speech as a late-comer. If some useless humans have to be erased and a new world would emerge, then a new speech is needed (to emerge, too). The old speech may come conveying the absurd luggage from the old world. And that is not good. New world, new speech. And this new speech may have a different character and not borrow body parts as speech organs.

Perhaps the new speech has to learn from sign language, even though it has to avoid reminding one about the Swift absurd syndrome.

The end of speech should mean another form of communication free from viruses. Let us understand when the anti-virus would be produced before the creation of the new speech. Let us also be made ready, in the form of training, on how to convey our meanings in it, just like the production of sounds and the funny attachment of meanings to them. Training of the body and of the mind that conceives.

No, no need of the cremation of speech that has been taken by the pandemic. We can build archives to house things of the old life. We can actually use technology to mimic meaning-making in the
old life.

Perhaps the new human will speak through the anus instead. Perhaps the new human will not need to modify the stream of air at any point and will just produce one long guttural sound. Don't ask how meaning can be negotiated. The human being may just see another and proceed to scan the other's mind, to determine intention. It is a new day and a new language is needed.

The end of one speech: the beginning of another.

The Road to Survival

by

Obododimma Oha

If I tell my children that during the Nigeria-Biafra War, our main sources of protein and sustenance were mice, crickets, lizards, and numerous vegetables, I look like somebody who has been watching the exotic African film titled "Mr. Bones." But it was real and I was a character in that struggle for human survival. Yes; we ate funny things and they were supplied by the Maker in abundance in the Biafran countryside. We enjoyed them as baskets left after feeding on two fishes and few loaves of bread. And we rubbed our stomachs, thanking the Maker, too, for listening to our voices: Bia nuru olu anyi, nna bia nuru olu anyi! (Come and listen to us, father, come and listen!).

That means that one has got some experience of surviving in a disaster or life-threatening situation (even though disasters and their challenges may differ from context to context). That experience is helpful, for experience is still the best teacher, not the teacher with the longest cane.

That little experience shows me that survival is for those who can adjust or adapt to new situations, not those who stubbornly stick to their old ways. The Igbo were right in saying that: A naghi ano otu nga elele mmanwu (One does not watch a masquerade performance from only one spot). The performance requires moving around the square (including the global village square!) (and that movement is part of the performance, too). One who does not move around is asking to be hurt. Such a person may be flogged by  the masquerade. And if the person is rooted to a spot, other watchers may be wondering what is wrong with the fellow. Maybe the fellow has come with a witchcraft and has been charmed. Maybe the person has been struck by a thunderbolt from the hands of Amadioha on account of the numerous charms worn. So, watching a masked performance from only one spot is unusual, very!

As a result of that knowledge, we knew immediately that when we prayed, "Give us each day, our daily bread...."the bread could come as crickets and lizards. We were ready to adjust and that saved us. We were also ready to pick up the remnants for another meal, instead of leaving them like spoilt children and disturbing our heavenly father every time.

Our eyes were also open and we were ready to see things and to improvise. Those who want to change their ways should come down to earth and discover alternatives. Was it not how our ancestors discovered that pumpkin leaves, water leaf, and yam tubers could be eaten and also used as medicine? With all our learning, which new consumable have we found in the bush, apart from old ones we try to modify and transform to eat? Is it noodles and rice we could find to eat? What other things have we identified, which our ancestors did not know, apart from our fine taste of modernity that recommends that we abandon those as backward things? Even Corona virus, have we candidly asked the bush for a solution?

One can see that, as one of my neighbours once pointed out, elitism is a culture of self-deception. Elite culture tells one that it is low-down to come out of a government-owned house and harvest a bunch of oranges or mangoes, instead of waiting until outsiders harvest them and sell back to the elite person in the marketplace. Elite culture tells that lazy fellow that he or she was created only to read books. Then, eat, sleep, and bath. Elite culture is a bad culture. With all our learning, we still cannot find an instant cure for the virus within hours! With all the universities, polytechnics, colleges of education, etc! It is good and symbolic that they are all closed down, for they have failed  woefully.

So, my children, stop laughing at me as Mr. Bones. That Mr. Bones was able to solve his problems without wearing masks and crying because a virus has chosen to commit suicide in the peppersoup pot.

Look at the birds of the air and other wild animals. Do they fear or show their worry for COVID? Are they not on earth here with us? Yes, they, too, have their typical diseases. Many. But that is not the issue. So, don't go there. perhaps we need to follow them around and  find out where the magic is. How can they be so happy and unworried?

The road to survival is populated by those who can use their heads, not those who show arrogance over the little that they know.

Social Distance

By

Obododimma Oha

Sometimes, politicians and other social actors define what words should mean for us. They can even give new meanings to familiar words and we have to queue up and accept them one after the other, same way we can kill other people for a politician to win at an election, or queue up for hours on end to vote for politicians from whom we have collected some bribe money. So, we could see that politicians and other significant social actors tell or lecture us on what "distance" means and know that "social distance" can be something done to the population, using the population. The novelist, George Orwell, author of the popular
1984,was known  to have shown his annoyance over  this in his essay, “Politics and the English language. ” Indeed, his annoyance is justified.

If social distance is interpreted to mean keeping away from everyone, not just avoiding crowds in public places, does it matter? Sometimes,one can mean something without saying it directly and say something without saying something. And somebody can go to jail if that person does not do what has not been said.

This also means freezing up societies or saying no more social interaction until further notice. Social interaction tells me why lives have to meet. The other life is not created  for me to eat as  food. The other life is created to flow into mine for life to continue in a dynamic way. So, the other life is greater me.

Now, you are saying: “To your tents,O Israel!”

Anyway, “social  distance,” through which you try to kill something, should not be total distance or distance from  everyone. Don’t I know how to keep a  healthy distance from someone that I am  talking with? Do I have to wrap myself around that person or share  a seat meant for one with the fellow? Must bodies rub against bodies in a civilized world? Please,let us not allow social actors redefine for us what “social distance” means and become the victims that Omoniyi Ibietan is talking about in that update on Facebook that says:

Keep social distance from misconception, misinformation &
Disinformation....They are more contagious and deadly as COVID-19.

Does that make you a bit uncomfortable,especially after reading many conspiracy theories that look true? Anyway,”social distance” still has humour for you, as in this soccer visual targeting the targeter:

(Source: Anonymous  

Is Arsenal not reminded about the need to observe “social distance” if the club is targeting the cup? It should be a humane gunner, biko, especially in these days of Corona virus. Indeed, a Frontline Division One European League club, Arsenal has every reason to eye (and even sniff)  the cup. Corona or no Corona. Even if there is a virus on the cup, a club facing competition has to grab it.

Anyway politicians and other social actors kicking social distance  and meaning round the soccer pitch should know that we know their styles and that we know what they know.