A Holocaust is a Holocaust is a Holocaust: Laura's Story from Biafra War Memories



The story below is so similar to my mother's and her family's in the
Holocaust in Europe. At the end Laura tries to discourage Biafra from trying for their independence from Nigeria again. It is unimaginable for her that it will happen again. The killings, the starvation, the Death Marches, rape, pillage... more than we can imagine although all of that visits us in our nightmares from our parents' stories. My mother used to say, "If there is a G-d in heaven, WHY?" The reason Biafra must try again is because the genocidal butchers are bottomless in their thirst for blood; they will revisit you whether you agitate or not. Eventually they will come for you. You must go. And if they don't want you to? Then the horror will visit them, and their families.






"My father…they butchered him"
"My name is Laura Nwando Onwualu.  I was born 1954 in northern Nigeria, Plateau State, Kura Falls"
I don’t remember much about the Nigerian Biafran War but I remember then I was in primary 6, 1967 or 66. Yes, 66 -67 No, then, there was a time – they started teaching us a song, you know, it says it is going to be our new anthem for our new country, Biafra. So we were learning the song. What we are going to do with it we don’t know but then we started noticing people in the north – because then I was staying with my grandmother in Onitsha [in the Southeast] – we started noticing our family members in the North coming home [to the Southeast] you know. We don’t know they came back telling us stories of killing in the North about how they will come to the house. The Hausas will come to the houses, kill them you know especially the men and my father came home with my mother because they were in the North. My family came home. Though my father wasn’t killed. He was on leave [from work]. He came home and they were telling me stories. One afternoon my mother was in the market. We were home and people started running and I was very young then. I didn’t know why they were running. They said the Hausas have crossed the bridge and that they are coming into Onitsha.
We were hearing gun shots and bomb blasts and all that so I gathered my brothers and started running with the neighbors. We didn’t know where we were going. We left the house and we were just trekking and people were falling and people were crying you know because they couldn’t see their loved ones. My mother came home looking for us you know. Eventually she found us. Then my father had gone back to the North because after his leave he had to go back and we didn’t see him again so.
“We were hearing gun shots and bomb blasts”
Yes, after his leave, he decided to go back because then he was working with the white men. He was persuaded not to go back because of the killings [there in the North] but he said no. He just wants to get there, take permission from his work place and come back [to join us in the Southeast in Onitsha] so he left one morning and then we never see him again and that was it. So eventually somebody came to tell us that he was killed. He was killed actually with some people that, they were to board the train, that was September 29, 1966, they were to board the train coming back to the Southeast from Jos, Bukuru precisely. They were waiting for the train at the station that night to come to the Southeast so these Hausas, they came and killed all of them there. That was how we never saw him, my father, again till date.

Judith Bergman: Why Don't All Black Lives Matter?


My friend, Judith Bergman, a writer, columnist, lawyer and political analyst





Why Don’t All Black Lives Matter?

Western social justice warriors couldn't care less about Biafra By Judith Bergman• 


gettyimages 690026530 Why Don’t All Black Lives Matter?
A man points at a Biafran flag painted on a wall on Old Market road in Onitsha on May 30, 2017, during a shutdown in commemoration of the 50th anniversary of the Nigerian civil war. Stefan Heunis/AFP/Getty Image

Fifty years ago, on May 30, 1967, Biafrans seceded from Nigeria, and declared their own state. The Nigerian government refused to accept the secession and responded by launching a war on Biafra in July 1967. The assault included a blockade of the nascent state, and resulted in the genocide of more than two million Biafrans, many of whom were children who starved to death because of the blockade. After three years of war, the nascent state of Biafra ceased to exist. 
Biafrans are an indigenous African people, who are ethnically predominantly Igbo. The territories that constitute present-day Nigeria became a British colony in 1914, merging a number of different indigenous African peoples in the artificial construct of Nigeria, among them the Biafrans. In 1960, Nigeria became independent, retaining the artificial shape left over from British colonization. 
Most likely, you will have heard nothing about this Biafran anniversary, nor about the peaceful efforts of Biafrans today to bring about an independent Biafra and the Nigerian government’s brutal suppression of those efforts. The media is not covering it, universities and think tanks are not hosting conferences about it, the United Nations Human Rights Council is not passing resolutions about it, and human rights activists and social justice warriors are not marching in the streets for Biafra. The world community is universally and shamefully silent on the plight of the Biafrans.