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KWENU! Our culture, our future |
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Rethinking the Òsú concept*
M. O. ENÉ** New Jersey, USA
Monday, September 1, 2003
There are no moral absolutes. I could never argue that my belief on a moral question is anything that another person should accept. I don’t believe in absolutes. If there is an absolute for moral decisions, it is human life. Carol Gilligan[1]
Ka i ma nke a, i ma nke ozo! Igbo adage [2] PREAMBLE Seven days ago, the organizers of this Convention asked me to deliver a paper on an issue that has refused to expire in Igbo cultural dynamics, despite three centuries of Christian evangelization and five decades of legislation banning the so-called “descent-based discrimination.” The topic is simple: “Is ‘osu’ still relevant in Igbo society”? In effect, the framers of the question admit that the osu concept might have been relevant. The question to address is whether the notion is still valid, or whether it is just a relic of our religious past, a stain of sorts on society. Many Igbo people believe that a simple answer is possible; yet, everyone knows that the solution is not so simple, or we would not be talking about osu in 2003, almost 50 years after the formal abolition of the system. The question, therefore, is loaded. There are no simple answers. So, I have decided to tackle the issue from a different perspective: Is the Osu phenomenon really what it is cut out to be: a “caste system” that stigmatizes a segment of society? Is it really a stain on Igbo society? Should it be a stain or some discolor of dishonor?
Our ancestors told us: “Onye na-amaghi ebe e nyiri ozu na-esi n’ukwu avo ya.” [He who was not present at initial interment would be of little help at eventual exhumation.] Do we really know when and where this rain started? Would we know when it is over, when to hold out no more, and when to fold our umbrellas and mirror more modern social systems? It is therefore imperative that we look at the real meaning of the term “osu” within the Igbo status structure. This is very important if we want to approach the issue with an open mind, not with some sore-soul sentiments. It is the inability to grasp the meat of the matter that has kept the issue alive in supposedly Christian Igbo society.
OF DEFINITIONS AND TRANSLATIONS I accepted to make this presentation because he whose kinsmen asked to catch a skunk must be provided water with which to wash his hands, and “oku a gunyere nwata n’aka anaghi ahu ya.” I don’t recall the first time I heard the word “òsú.” I must have come back to Igboland from further studies abroad before I read or heard about the ritual status structure prevalent in many Igbo communities. Growing up in Enugu, “osu” is not a term you hear or use. In the nearby countryside, from whence my parents originated, the term does not describe anyone. So let us assume that we are dealing with the concept of a human being devoted to a deity: nwaalusi or nwaarusi, nwammuo or nwamaa, ume, osu, or other euphemistic and or derogatory terms that apply. So, though we would use the term “osu,” the definitions could be stretched to apply to similar setups anywhere in Igboland.
According to Igwe (1999): Òsú is a noun, “a person dedicated to the service of a deity as a slave; an outcaste; slave; nwa osu child of osu.” [3] Echeruo (1998) submits a similar sense: “a person (usually a man) consecrated to a shrine or a deity. And hence belonging to a caste; a descendant (male or female) of a person so consecrated; a cult slave.” [4] Let us examine these terms briefly:
(a) Dedicated/consecrated to a deity: No one would disagree that osu is a person dedicated to the service of a deity, a gatekeeper of gods. He is a priest of sorts specializing mostly in negotiated settlements between mortals and spirits (igo mmuo). No wonder then there is no stigma to such names as Nwosu (son of Osu); Osuji (a priest of yam deity, Ji), Osuala/Osuani (a priest of land/earth deity, Ani); Osuagwu (a priest of divination deity Agwu), Osuigwe, Osuchukwu, Osueke, Osunkwo, etc. This is as it should be; descendants of deacons and pastors and other categories of clergy cling to their heritage with honor. The Levis of Judaism come to mind.
(b) Slave: Exactly what makes osu a slave? No one devoted to the service of a deity and, ultimately, Chineke (Creator) is a slave. “Slave” is not even the right English equivalent for the term “ohu” or “oru,” which is presently used for “slave” in Igbo language; “indentured servant” is more an appropriate translation for “ohu” because the Igbo normally do not rob another Igbo of his culture, his being. The term “slave” is hereby misapplied. “Osu” is not a slave to a deity; otherwise, all priests and monks and nuns in all religions would be “slaves.”
(c) Outcast/Outcaste: The problem with translations is that, somewhere along the line, words that mean entirely different things are inappropriately applied. An outcast (mind the spelling) is “one who has been excluded from a society or system; one that has been rejected.” [5] Living near the shrine, usually by the market, does not make a person an outcast. The fact that osu is accorded certain privileges and or placed under certain restrictions does not and should not make him an outcast.
However, since learned linguists apply the term “caste” in the definitions cited, let us examine the term: “Caste” is a hereditary class in Hindu society.[6] There is no established caste system in Igbo nation; everyone is born to be whatever s/he wants to be. Strictly speaking, there is no restriction on marriages between osu and diala (a non-osu person); there are spoken statutes governing such matrimonial contracts because osu is of the deity, not a mere mortal. Such spoken statutes exist amongst Christian denominations; in the case of the Catholic Church, it was once written. It has not created a caste of Anglicans, Catholics, Methodists, Presbyterians, Pentecostals, etc. An “outcaste,” by the way, is someone who lives outside his caste, not “a thing set apart.” [7]
(d) Descendants of persons consecrated: It is would have been laughable, if this were not a serious social issue, to suggest that the son of a priest is a priest. Let us assume that the son of osu is “nwaosu” and that the son of nwaosu is “nwa-nwaosu,” what would that make the great, great grandson of osu? Osu? It is ridiculous to accept that the fourth-generation son of a priest is a priest, even when he is neither dedicated nor devoted to a deity. This line of argument fuels the notion that a Christian priest or pastor of osu descent, who has dedicated his life to the teachings of Jesus Christ, is still osu. Nothing could be further from the truth. The son of a rich Igbo man could be called “nwaogaranya” -- as in nwaosu, but a poor fourth-generation descendant of a bourgeois is not rich by any stretch of imagination.
The bottom-line here is that osu status exists; however, the advent of Euro-Christian culture has robbed Ndiigbo of the ability to resolve the evidently divisive, unnecessary, and incidental aspects of the phenomenon. To all intents and purposes, therefore, no one has accurately defined the term “osu,” as was probably intended by those that conceived it. An apt English equivalent is “monk”; hence this working definition of Òsú: a celibate and/or chaste citizen who has dedicated his life to serving the Supreme Spirit through a dedicated deity; a devotee of deity; a gatekeeper of gods; simply said, a monk or a marabou. How the monks of yore, who had dedicated their lives to communal deities and probably took the vow of celibacy -- if not chastity, ended up with a large community of osu-descendants is matter worth discussing. The classification of “osu-descendants” as “osu” -- which they are not -- is at the root of the problem.
THE BEGINNING Communities of osu-descendants (“umuosu” for lack of a better term) dot Igboland. How did they come about? Stories vary. In recent memory, some persons have waltzed into the status with eyes wide open. A few cases could be a pointer to how it all began.
(a) A few moons ago in a community I know, a young father who had been a pain on everyone’s neck took a step too many: He walked to the town’s shrine and asked for protection. Those who saw him alerted his kinsmen. No one bothers him any more. Everyone understood that he had become a ward of the deity (nwaalusi) since the community does not use the term “osu.” The last time I saw his junior brother, he was running from pillar to post, from Enugu to Elele, seeking a religious remedy that is readily available within his community. (b) At the tail end of the last century, in a certain community in old Orlu Province, a certain individual refused to deliver on his social obligations. After repeated appeals, the community decided to force the issue with masquerades. The man took off and ran to the town’s shrine. Men and masquerades backed off. He was free to go and come as he pleased. Case closed. (c) About 70 years ago, in an Agbaja town (Udi Division), a certain individual committed an abomination, or so they said. He fled to the town’s shrine. He automatically became nwaalusi (son of a god), a monk. He established an abode near the shrine by the market square, away from his umunna (agnate). He enjoyed all the privileges accorded a devotee of the deity. Of course, certain restrictions applied. Why the man decided to contract a marriage is another matter. His descendants are umualusi (children of god) to this day, and they inherited all paternal privileges and restrictions, even when only the okpala (firstborn) inherited the functions of their father at the shrine and outside. (d) Further back, in a certain Njikoka community of Anambra State, a widow felt that her husband’s relatives were depriving her and her little ones of their rightful inheritance. She took her children and sought refuge at the town’s shrine. She and her children automatically became osu. No one touched their lands, and no one could physically harm them anymore. The extended family rallied round, assured the woman of no further interference, and proceeded to extract her from the bondage of the deity. The required routine ritual was successful. Today, there is no osu in the community.
There are as many tales of osu origin as there are osu-descendants. In an Nsukka community, anyone who kills a kinsman is banished to live out his life with “umumaa” clan. Southwards along the Imo River, stories abound about children dedicated to deities as priests either to appease the deity, as in the case of the Igbo-Etiti woman who dedicated her daughter to Efuru Shrine in 1988,[8] or to express gratitude for the benevolence of a deity -- as was done in Biblical times Many of these devotees grew up to become great, revered priests and raised families that are to this day proud descendants of priests, as is clearly obvious in their last names; yet, and rightly so, these descendants are not considered “osu.” Of course, some war captives or pawns were said to have been forced into the service of communal deities.
Many became osu by seeking refuge at the shrine to escape transatlantic chattel slavery. Others might have taken the osu route rather than submit to harsher punishments, as in the Agbaja and Orlu cases. Obviously, the numbers increased over time for different reasons ranging from rapid procreation due to comfortable stress-free existence to voluntary subscription of those who felt unduly oppressed or who simply wanted a piece of la dolce vita, even with all its socio-psychological stigma and inherent implications. It is obvious that there was envy and even latent hatred, but there was peace and all concerned coexisted constructively. No matter how one got there, he or she became osu; and the descendants thereafter were considered children, if not devotees, of the deity. Should they be considered dedicated to this deity when they are devoted followers of Jesus Christ or Mohammed or Buddha? That is the question to address.
UNDERSTANDING NDIIGBO Ndiigbo, the Igbo people of Africa, are a unique people. They are a dynamic and deeply religious. Traditionally, the Igbo have no standing army, no police force, and no prisons. True decentralized democrats, the Igbo have no hereditary kingship, which has been wrongly translated as “Igbo enwe(ghi) eze.” How law and order was maintained and society controlled affected the way osu system used, if not conceived, in various communities. A restless race of rugged republicans, ideational individuals and avid adventurists, the Igbo are a profoundly proud people -- even avoidably arrogant. They fear no one, so much so it is sometimes scary to outsiders. [9] In such a society as the Igbo had, it was imperative that they should device a solid social structure that could not crumple from so much freedom.
On the other hand, the deities they inherited are not always benevolent; some can be so demanding the community would prefer not to deal directly with them. The Igbo can be whatever they want to be, but they make no pretensions about the spiritual realm; here, they tread ever so carefully. The concept of osu as a controlled social institution rooted in the religious realm provided a powerful tool for social control and for religious requirements. It is therefore not inconceivable that the concept of osu was conceived to take care of certain societal structuring and religious responsibilities. In that case, the problem is with the inheritors of the system, not the originators.
Summarizing Igbo worldview in seven propositions, Victor Uchendu (1995) wrote:
Although the Igbo seek explanations for social disasters through the medium of divination, they know from life experiences that their society is not spoiled by the spirits but by evil doers in society. They therefore impose a strict code of conduct with penalty for infraction that may stretch into many generations. :::: It is not uncommon for divination to hold a wrong doer accountable for wrongs committed in his third or fourth generation, as long as the living memories could recollect the event. The only redeeming feature is that ritual remedies are available.” [10]
Let us assume that a certain community of osu-descendants started with a man who failed to adhere to societal codes of conduct, or who somehow found himself dedicated a deity, or he was dedicated from birth as a result of spiritual signs or communal consensus. Should this inheritance survive after the fourth generation? It is common knowledge that there is nothing permanent in Igbo society but death. Death in itself is not necessary a final phase of one’s life cycle; it is but a transition, passing into a different existence. Therefore, what makes the osu institution persistent after so many generations and in Igbo society where “ritual remedies” to many problems are readily available? The answer to this question is in the way Ndiigbo embraced Christianity.
FROM KNOWN TO UNKNOWN Before the arrival of the Eurocentric Christian culture, the osu performed various societal functions, mostly at the shrines. They also cleansed abominations; for example, they bring down suicides and perform the burial rites, an expensive proposal that still obtains in many Igbo communities. Either out of fear for the deity or respect for the osu, they were not physically harmed nor were they sold into slavery. It is still a taboo to cause osu to bleed. It is therefore somehow correct to conjecture that the osu status had its privileges, including non-payment of levies and non-participation in communal works or in inter-communal wars. They get special services at every occasion and choice meat at ritual sacrifices. Quintessentially, the osu could have been classed as highly “special” in those days. In addition, he had extraordinary spiritual powers, and he could communicate with forces unknown to mere mortals.
No one knows exactly at what point something happened to upset the social and religious equilibrium. However, it is obvious that when Ndiigbo embraced Christianity en masse, both umuosu and umuadiala (loosely children of non-osu descent), they did not forget the age-old division. Ironically, umuosu were the first to board the Christian canoe and to rise to posh positions. There was more a clash of classes, not of cultures. At heart, the Igbo are religious traditionalists, no matter the modern faith they embrace. Regardless of the teachings of Christianity, they still live and pass on old social status structures that placed certain restrictions on osu, not necessarily on their Christian descendants. Of course, it is not all members of osu clan that embraced Christianity, just as there are still members of diala clan who honor ancestral religious traditions.
PAST IN THE PRESENT Truth be told, the Churches have failed to dent the osu issue. In many cases, they have turned a blind eye in the hope that it would go away. In some cases, they effectively sustain it by their faithlessness. On the other hand, some umuosu communities still readily defend their status, especially where the “privileges” are necessary to offset other discriminatory practices such as exclusion from taking the traditional nze or ozo title or from becoming eze, igwe, chief, and such modern institutions that further bastardize the Igbo culture. In one Nnewi community, a village of umuosu (renamed umu-something else as per Christian political correctness) is bribed before any major event. Otherwise, if an osu-descendant touches any part of the meal or drink, invitees would refuse to partake of the feast. Imagine such folk foolishness in 2003. It would be easy to test the will of umuosu by calling their bluff, as a friend dared unsuccessfully recently, but the osu are not the problem; the invitees, mostly Christians, promote the pettiness.
The osu issue rarely rears its ugly head in everyday living, even if there is a certain knowledge of who is what; it sleeps and wakes in small communities and in little minds. In highly urbanized Igbo society, it is never really an issue. If you have what it takes, you call the shots. You even take titles and feast the community. Nwaosu or nwadiala, no one cares. “Ihe nkwu gbatara ka a na-añu,” not what one’s forefather or foremother did. Yet, whenever marriage prospect materializes, all antennae switch to full blast. The diala party poses questions, even if the couple has dated for years. Suddenly the almost-made marriage collapses, unless a party is so stupendously rich or so politically powerful to quench the fire. There are some prominent and generally known examples.
The umudiala-umuosu marital divide is not unique in Igboland. Before the Nigeria-Biafra War, the people of Umuneke (Udi) did not intermarry with Umuaro (Aro-descendants), whose communities dot the area. It took some prominent personalities to bulldoze the divide and marry their Aro sweethearts. Still in Udi, the peoples of Nsude, Eke, Udi, Abia, and Amaokwe do not intermarry.[11] They call themselves Umuoshie, (children of Oshie), yet they intra-marry! Many Igbo Christian families do not allow their children to marry from or into different Christian denominations. It is almost Belfast in Igbo communities, and no one seems to be screaming.
With massive urbanization and disregard of certain traditional rites, a don’t-tell-don’t-ask could emerge, if it is not already here. People have met in Europe or in America and married without asking questions. Sometimes whispers are heard, but many Ndiigbo have become so sophisticated they would wonder from what planet the gossip-peddler dropped. With the expansion in Igbo diaspora, of those who do not speak Igbo nor understand the culture, and with the Igbo penchant for living miles apart from each other, reconfiguring relationships, and associating more as Ndiigbo -- not as clans, umudiala and umuosu are bound to intermarry, knowingly or unknowingly. RETHINKING IGBO SOCIAL STRUCTURE There is a need to rethink Igbo status structure. Osu is not the only cultural problem confronting the Igbo nation, it is merely the ritual aspect of a larger problem, and there is a ritual remedy. There are other divisions that do not require ritual solutions; yet no one is addressing them adequately. The diala-ohu division in some communities robs an entire segment of its rightful inheritance. In Igboland, no law makes a person “freeborn” and another “bondage-born” to man or deity. The fact that one’s ancestor was in indentured servitude should not persist after so many generations. It is no crime to step into servitude or even bondage for one’s survival. If it requires a fiscal payoff or ritual cleansing, then let the debt be discharged or the rites commenced. There is also the amaala-obia status, where “amaala” is supposedly a “son of the soil.” At some point in the populating of Igboland, people moved in and out, as is happening today. To regard entrenched, fourth-generation descendants as “ndiobia” (settlers, residents, guests, visitors, immigrants, etc.) is a great injustice that has led to bloodletting. It has carried on to the indigene/non-indigene problem poisoning relationships in Igbo-speaking states and elsewhere in Nigeria. Of course, the ogaranya-ogbenye divide is an economic problem that feeds other discrimination practices and ruins society, especially now that it takes one lucky strike to clean the slate of poverty and cross the Rubicon of the rich.
Somehow along the years, Ndiigbo have forgotten their ancestral injunction: “Ebe onye bi ka o na-awachi.” [Where you live, there you thrive.] This disrespect for ancestral injunction fuels the Umuode-Oruku crisis, a microcosm of lingering Nkanu-Odenigbo nightmare. The Awka-Amawbia anguish persists. The Onicha-Obosi imbroglio has passed into legend. The Aguleri-Umuleri anarchy simmers. Solutions to these archaic practices are beyond the scope of this presentation; but, as poignantly pointed out, there are remedies to the vexatious issue of descent-based discrimination, especially after learning the truth and putting the matter in its proper perspective. For example, assuming a community of osu-descendants wants out of the ritual bondage into which their forefathers entered, nothing stops them from seeking an appropriate exculpating ritual. Besides, how many shrines in Igboland are still actively served by osu? Do umuosu still abide by the alleged dictates of the deity to which their ancestors pledged? If it must take a member of umuosu clan to placate a deity that the town hardly wants, and someone is willing to serve, then he could volunteer to serve out any remaining term as a true monk. In an Ezeagu community known for its great dibia (shamans), the town ritually and physically dismantled the system. Whatever is done to dismantle or to reform the system, it should be done without further denigrating Igbo religion.
FLAWED FUNDAMENTALS It is apparent that our understanding of the osu status is fundamentally flawed. No matter how we cut it or bolt it, the osu is a monk, a keeper of the shrine. It does not have to take an entire clan of osu-descendants to preserve a religious site. The shrine is a setup of a community, a sacred soil where people negotiate with a particular benevolent force known to favor the community when properly approached. This is why the Igbo are more used to negotiating (“igo”) than to worshiping (“ife”). In fact, the term “ife” does not exist in Igbo theosophy. Nothing stops a community from renegotiating the terms of relationships between the community at large and the communal deity, which they had instituted; it was not a creation of the umuosu community.
In all Igbo communities, there are shrines built for benevolent being forces (alusi). The gatekeepers of these gods are monks (osu) and priests (ezeani, ezemmuo, or ezemaa). Whoever or whatever they are, there are certain privileges and certain restrictions. In fact, many of these holy men were celibate, if not chaste; and, if these men stayed true to their calling, nothing would have been wrong with being osu, unless politicians find a way to corrupt them -- as is happening to men of the cloth in Igboland. There is no right or wrong about one religion or the other; no mere mortal knows the truth: Religion is faith, not necessarily fact. If those who follow other teachings will not marry into these priestly clans, fair enough; those who want would come calling for the beautiful brides. The problem is that many of the so-called “osu” are Christians. They are reverend fathers, nuns, pastors, catechists, etc. What is it about the Christian faith that so many adherents have little faith? Where is the Christian brotherhood that Christ preached?
MATTERS ARISING The Church has an iron-grip on Igboland. Yet it has shown a pitiful understanding of the Igbo society. Some misguided spiritual churches recently embarked on the destruction shrines in Igbo communities. After buckets of holy water, hysterical halleluiah-screams, babbling in tongues, and incomprehensible iconoclasm, the osu status persists. The protesting potheads were merely trying a shortcut solution to a problem the church has clearly failed to resolve amongst its own membership. How is the destruction of shrines going to help integrate umudiala and umuosu of their congregation? What harm have shrines done to the churches? How many times have the priests of the shrines gone to burn down churches? Such inanity as destroying “deities” exposes the shallowness of brainwashed local clergies. Shrines and ritual relics, which some cretins cart away and sell abroad anyway, are not actually the bedrock of Igbo religious creed: Odinani is a state of the mind, a creed, and a very personal matter. [12]]
No one is his right mind should support any form of manmade discrimination. This too shall one day be a thing of the past: As the Onicha folk would say: Nke wuchee, o wudebe. The Igbo are as profoundly pious as they are socially sophisticated and economically enterprising. The osu status structure is of the ritual realm, not necessarily logic. There might have been a good reason of faith why the status so evolved; it did not just happen. Okenwa Nwosu (2002) posits that osu system is “a sad reminder of our historical past which suffered defeat in the hands of alien invaders.” [13] True, but no culture is static. Religion, being at the root of culture, must be dynamic to survive. The Igbo religious tradition, Odinani, is overdue for a makeover, a makeover that will signal the beginning of Igbo cultural renaissance. The problem is that Ndiigbo have abandoned their creed in droves and embraced the religion of Christian conquerors without much enculturation; yet, amazingly, they carry with them the baggage of a religious tradition they have abandoned. Unfortunately, the newfound shrines they call churches could not provide the required ritual remedy, an antidote that would remove the fear of some deity striking them dead if they fraternized with descendants of deity devotees. Odinani must be a very compelling institution. No wonder then Ndiigbo find Christianity easier to manipulate, thus abandoning their ancestral faith -- instead of reforming and revitalizing the hijacked, old-time religion.
MANY QUESTIONS, MANY ANSWERS Is osu still relevant in modern-day Igboland? A definite “yes” in isolation could confer an endorsement of the discriminatory practices associated with the status of osu-descent. A definite “no” in isolation would mean the height of arrogance: Why would Christians dictate to the adherent of Igbo religious traditions? So, if we agree that osu is a priest, a monk especially, then, the dreadlock and mystic osu of yore could only be relevant to a minority of citizens -- Ndiani, the Odinani adherents. So, as long as there are shrines to communal deities and people who still subscribe to the doctrine of deities as-is, there will be a need for someone to minister to their needs. How people relate to the monks is a matter of mutual understanding between the priests and the people on one hand, and the devotee and the deity on the other. In any case, there would no longer be legal osu-descendants, as is supposedly with the Catholic Church. Upon the death of a devotee, the adherents will choose another gatekeeper of the shrine from amongst the membership of the monastery, just as the Dalai Lama mandate falls on one of the Buddhist monks. In that case, no one needs to worry about matrimonial taboos, which is the main bone of contention. These men could be sought after by politicians as the then Vice President Al Gore did with California–based Tibetan Buddhist monks in the 1999 presidential elections, or as General Sani Abacha did with the Malian marabous.
It is believed in some circles that osu was a societal setup that people abused, just as is happening in the Christian priesthood. What is wrong with a man dedicating his life to the glory of the Supreme Force through lesser forces he could deal with on behalf of the community? No one ever questions the thinking of Buddhist monks who devote their lives to the teachings of Buddha. What about Christian monks who devote their lives to certain saints or nuns who work in honor of Blessed Virgin Mary? These holy ones were mere mortals; alusi (deities) are being forces, not even spirits. Igboland does not need large communities of osu, and they technically do not exist. In essence, all Christians classed as “osu” should not be so regarded. It is incomprehensible that Ndiigbo do not see the absurdity in present-day “osu” status structure: You should be dedicated to a deity to be osu. Unfortunately, as long as people could recollect and point out and pass on that a certain family is of osu-descent, there is little the Churches or anyone can do about it. Fortunately, there is a way out: It will only require redeeming ritual remedies to rid Igboland of the unnecessary class and to redeem and reserve the lexical item for exactly what it was and should be: a monk.
RELEVANCE, WHAT RELEVANCE? The osu system was abolished in 1956 by the then Eastern Nigeria government. Why has the system persisted? Uchendu (1995) was category in condemning the system: “Osu and ume should have no place in any civilization.” [14] Of what relevance could such an apparently abhorred status structure be? To be relevant it must be pertinent to the socioeconomic and cultural well-being of the people. So, maybe it served the traditional judicial and religious systems -- according to a school of thought. If that is the case, then we could say it was understandable: There were no jails in Igboland, mere mortals tread carefully in traditional religious affairs, and human life is deemed sacred. However, in postcolonial Igbo society, the system has passed its sell-by date, and the irrelevance in this case is very obvious.
Some schools of thought believe that the system is still valid and needed in some reformed format to make the practice of ostracism potent. This thinking fuelled a recent call in Igbo Forum (an Internet newsgroup) for a reintroduction of the osu system. In the proponent’s thinking, it was the only thing that would drive living fear into political contractors and prostitutes of power who are considered sellouts to the Igbo cause. When reminded of the lingering carryover from the past, the proponent backpedaled and agreed that there was a need to resolve the past before creating a new setup. It just looks like the more things change the more they stay the same. What many Nigerians fail to understand is that the osu system in not a pan-Igbo practice and that it was not necessarily designed to punish. Only communities that still see some ritual relevance or economic opportunism, albeit deemed myopic and archaic, still harbor the system in their hearts. It is a community-based practice; the solution must be community-centered. What worked in one clan may not work in another; it is the ancient decentralized democracy at work. All pan-Igbo pronouncements and permutations are mere pulpit preaching.
CONCLUSION Any community with osu-decent population should apply ritual remedies to ‘de-bond’ the ancient links because Ndiigbo, like many Africans, are people of rituals. The abuse of the system has made the institution as-is archaic and undesirable, but it cannot be wished away. Many communities have organized general communions to reintegrate all brethren from across umudiala-umuosu ritual divide. It takes time to take root but, over the years, no one hears of osu or diala in these communities; not even their priests and keepers of the sacred soils are called “osu.” It does not have to involve the destruction of a people’s heritage of according certain privileges and restrictions to the keepers of the sacred soil. Once the term “osu” is recovered and reserved for “monks” -- or jettisoned completely, it would take only a generation or so to close the chapter on the misapplied linguistic item. No one should be born bonded or branded in Igboland, especially when such labels are easily expunged. Just as circumcision symbolically cleanses the man-child of the “original sin,” an innovative ritual could serve to cleanse every Igbo of any sins from previous cycles. The particularities of the rituals are immaterial; it is all about faith, not logic.
We must learn not to see osu for what it is not; it is not necessarily an indelible stain on the Igbo society. Judaism has its priestly clan; they did not have to be subjected to social stigmatization and psychological abuse. Those who promoted the unnecessary discrimination between the descendants osu (clergy) and those of diala (laity) passed on their envy, hatred, and other negative feelings that propelled the status structure to its present obnoxious state. It is a good example of how the over-subscription of all comers for one reason or the other, not necessary for the reasons established at incorporation, could abuse a possibly simple idea of monks living out their lives in monasteries around shrines in the service of Chineke. Such holy men could have become the voice of many communities today, since they cannot be harmed; and, if you “buy” them and fail to deliver, you deal with the deities they serve. Unfortunately along the ages, some people brought what Umez (1999) called “Apartheid in disguise”[16] to the Igbo religious tradition, something the ancestors could not have foreseen.
Ndiigbo cannot create a caste system where none existed, nor should it exist in an equal-opportunity Igbo polity. There cannot be any second-class citizens in the Igbo nation, where everyone is schooled to be whatever he or she wants to be. The Igbo Golden Rule, “egbe bere, ugo bere, says it all: Let the kite perch, let the eagle perch. No stories told! We see here the consequences of viewing one’s culture from the tinted lenses of foreign religions. Words that connote simple ideas now wear the garb of ghosts; “osu” has suffered such fate. The problem therefore is that we have not properly documented the matter, talk less of seeking an appropriate reform or resolution. Without a clear understanding of what one is dealing with, all federal fiats and public pronouncements against the osu concept will meet blind eyes, fall on deaf ears, and touch closed minds. We need result-oriented reforms, not long-drawn-out legislation; critical comprehension, not crude condemnation; and, finally, ritualized remediation, not iconoclastic impressions.
It is stupendously ironic that this matter is still simmering in Christianized Igboland, with all its frothing faith in Charismatic Catholicism and Pentecostal Protestantism. Ndiigbo must step away from the straightjacket strait of synthesized religions and from positions to the right of the Pope and the Archbishop of Canterbury. They must reorganize and revitalize their ancestral religion in all its sacred and rightful ramifications. Charlatans have held sway for too long, and the new waves of denigrating home videos are not helping matters. As is happening in Igbo politics, all it took to get to the point of almost suppressing a section of the society was a few good folk hearing nothing, seeing nothing, saying nothing, and doing nothing. We must not stop talking about it, no matter how uncomfortable it makes some people. It must not happen again. When all is over, the relevance of osu (meaning “monks,” “gatekeepers of gods,” or “devotees of deity”) will depend on the needs they meet or serve in evolving societies and on how many Christians take their faith seriously enough and still subscribe to the doctrines of Odinani.
======================================================== * This paper was prepared for presentation at the 2003 Convention of Enugu Association USA in Washington, DC on Saturday, August 23, 2003 ** Maazi M. O. Ene, Ph.D. was the Chairman of the Board of Directors of Enugu-USA (1999-2002) ========================================================
Ezeh: Eteng and the Igbo
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